Chapter 3: Basking in Pleasure
While Frances struggled to steady herself in a life that had suddenly turned cold and unfamiliar, life continued elsewhere in the city.
In a luxurious penthouse, Marcus lounged comfortably on a velvet couch, a glass of wine in his hand. Beside him, Charlotte leaned into his chest, her lips curved in satisfaction.
"Finally, we have gotten rid of the devil, haven't we?" she said, swirling her wine slowly, her polished nails gleaming under the soft light.
Marcus smirked, pulling her closer. "Yes, baby. Let us forget about her. I will bring the house documents for you to sign. It will be yours now."
Charlotte's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Of course," he replied casually. "It is just paperwork."
She laughed softly, pressing a kiss against his lips. "Thank you, honey."
They sank into each other, their laughter echoing through the room, careless and unbothered.
To them, it was love.
To anyone watching closely, it was something far darker.
Marcus tilted his head slightly, as though a thought had just crossed his mind. "I have been thinking. Let us register our marriage tomorrow."
Charlotte pulled back, her face lighting up with excitement. "Finally. Do you remember how I begged you to marry me before?"
Marcus chuckled. "You were impatient."
"You told me not until Frances was out of the way," she said, her tone light but filled with meaning.
He did not deny it.
Instead, he smiled.
Everything had gone exactly as planned.
Charlotte stood up, pulling him along with her. "Come here," she said playfully, running toward the room.
Marcus followed, laughter spilling from his lips as he chased after her.
The door shut behind them.
Later that day, Charlotte stepped out of a sleek black car in front of an upscale boutique. Her heels clicked confidently against the polished floor as she walked in, her presence immediately drawing attention.
"I want the most expensive designs you have," she said, her voice firm. "My husband will pay for everything."
The attendants exchanged glances before quickly moving to serve her.
"Yes, ma."
Charlotte moved from one outfit to another, barely sparing a glance before discarding each piece.
"No, not this. Bring something better."
"Hmm… maybe this one."
"Actually, I want more options."
Her voice carried authority, as though the entire store existed for her alone.
"Even if I change five times today, you will keep up," she added coldly.
"Yes, ma," the attendant replied, forcing a polite smile.
Soon, two women entered the boutique.
Gladys and Messy.
Charlotte turned to them with a bright smile. "Oh, you are here. Did you enjoy the ride? My husband arranged it."
Gladys nodded. "Yes, we did."
Charlotte let out a soft laugh, though there was no warmth in it. "You? Afford this place? Stop dreaming."
The two women forced smiles, hiding their discomfort.
Moments later, an attendant brought out a white gown, off shoulder, adorned with delicate silver petals.
Charlotte's eyes sparkled as she ran her fingers over the fabric.
"This one," she said softly.
She stepped in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.
To her, this was victory.
She had taken everything.
The man.
The house.
The name.
And she believed that meant she had taken the future too.
Across the city, in a well furnished living room, Mrs. Troy Stary sat with a group of elegantly dressed women, her chin lifted proudly.
"My son is now the CEO of a company," she said, sipping her drink. "If your children need a job, they can contact him."
The women murmured in admiration.
"You are so lucky."
She smiled, clearly pleased.
After they left, Marcus walked into the room.
"My son," she said, turning to him. "When is your wedding?"
"Next week, Mum," he replied. "We have already gotten the marriage certificate."
Her smile stiffened for a brief moment before she forced it back.
"Good," she said. "It must be grand. I want all my friends there."
Marcus sighed. "Mum, I told you, the money is a loan."
"What loan?" she snapped. "Just do as I said."
He frowned slightly. "Mother, have you heard anything about Frances?"
Her expression hardened instantly. "Do not mention that girl again."
"I am only saying we should be careful," he said quietly.
"Focus on your wedding," she replied, waving him off. "We must spend big."
Frustration flashed across his face before he turned and walked away, the door closing sharply behind him.
The room fell silent.
Mrs. Stary sat still, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass.
For a moment, the confidence she displayed earlier faded.
Something uneasy lingered beneath it.
Fear.
Because deep down, she knew.
Charlotte was not someone to trust.
And whatever they thought they had buried…
Might not stay buried forever.
Meanwhile…
Far away from their celebrations and arrogance, Frances was still alive.
And everything they thought was over…
Had only just begun.