"Ursula, what are you playing at? You've always competed with Joan behind closed doors. Now you're suddenly defending her?" A sneer twisted his lips. "It's because you're jealous of Janet, isn't it? I used to think you had some sense of decency. Turns out you're just like Joan—scheming, spiteful, and impossible to reason with!"
Every word landed like a stone. I felt nothing.
Rhys lifted his chin, voice ringing with self-righteous conviction.
"Let me make one thing clear to both of you. If my family weren't forcing my hand, the only woman I'd ever marry is Janet." His eyes swept over us with contempt. "Even if you get my name, you'll never have my heart!"
With that, he scooped Janet into his arms—she was still sniffling on cue—and strode away without looking back.
But Janet, nestled against his chest, turned her head just enough to catch our eyes.
And smiled.
A faint, knowing curl of the lips.
I watched Rhys disappear around the corner, then turned to Joan.
"Are you sure you want to marry him?" Joan's brow furrowed. "There are plenty of ways to make their lives miserable without throwing yourself into the fire."
She shook her head immediately. "Absolutely not. The way he looked at her just now made me sick."
She paused, something clicking behind her eyes. "Wait—you said there were other ways. What did you mean?"
I didn't answer directly. Instead, I asked her a question.
"The kidnapping in our last life. Have you ever wondered who was behind it?"
Joan's expression went blank. She frowned, thinking hard—then her head snapped up, pupils contracting.
"It was... Gwendolen Pruitt?"
"Yes." I confirmed her suspicion.
Gwendolen was my cousin.
She'd been born rotten, cruelty woven into her very bones.
Back in school, she'd led the pack of bullies—once locked a classmate in the bathroom and doused her with ice water, all because the girl was prettier than her. When the incident blew up, she got slapped with a major disciplinary mark. Later, she beat someone badly enough to land them in the hospital, made the evening news, and earned herself a stint in juvenile detention.
She came out worse. Smoking, drinking, scamming her own family for cash. They'd cleaned up her messes more times than anyone could count. The Pruitt clan had been trying to disown her for years.
She'd always stolen what was mine—toys, clothes, even friends.