The First Wife’s Revenge
The date began to shift, the numbers warping.
From, Five years ago.
To, Tomorrow.
Her name was rewriting itself.
And beneath it, new words appeared in blood red script, letters forming as if written by an invisible hand,
“Blood given. Oath renewed. The rebirth begins.”
Olivia dropped the book.
Outside, the bells of the sanctuary began to toll, slow, thunderous, final.
And somewhere in the darkness, Jessica’s voice whispered through the air, soft, dangerous, almost loving,
“Welcome back, Olivia.”
Bab Populer