The Other Woman นิยาย & เรื่องราว

he said to her and she screamed even louder. I swallowed, and my cheeks heated up. I had never seen something so sexually graphic in my whole life. I blinked, facing Chiara as she seemed so engrossed in what was happening outside the booth. "Do you know the woman?" she whispered. I again glanced through the gap and noticed the woman, I almost let out a scream but covered my mouth with Chiara's dress that was in my hands. "That's Mrs. Gastone," I whispered back.

They are living the ideal life for us. "Is that you?" I was apprehensive when the woman shrieked and emerged with a haircut and a new curl in her hair. "Howdy!" I screamed, perplexed by what he did. "Junneng! How dare you, your lady is drawn to you! That's why you're driving me away; you're bringing your other woman! That is how you are going to open up to me on our anniversary! What a pig you are!" I recoiled in surprise and backed away.

I should ask him after the meal was over. On his right was a smiling short woman. She had dark hair, a mix between brown and black, and freckles all over her face. The woman beside her gave me a small smile. She had hair as white as snow. Her eyes were golden like fire. She seemed timid. There was another woman on the Head’s left-hand side. She had only one eye. The other eyelid was sewn shut. So were her lips. I shuddered and gulped down the scream that almost left my mouth.

Nothing else matters right now. And then there’s Laim. The reason all of this happened. I made him a promise— next time I see him, he dies. This afternoon, while I was still in the hospital room with Marcus, something strange happened. A woman appeared, sitting on the very bed Marcus was lying on. She looked right at me, her lips curling into a knowing smile. I knew who she was immediately. "Longest time," I said, my voice calm but wary. "Yeah, longest time," she replied with a smirk. "Can’t you see that nature is against you now?"

Simple furniture. Family photographs. Old books. Memories. Lots of memories. The woman motioned toward a chair. Lydia sat. The older woman settled across from her. For several moments neither spoke. Finally Lydia broke the silence. "You know Adrian." The woman's face hardened immediately. "Unfortunately." Lydia leaned forward. "Who are the others?" Something changed in the woman's eyes. Pain. Deep pain. The kind that never truly leaves. "You really want to know?" "Yes." The woman looked toward a framed photograph sitting on a nearby shelf.

Enough to remind me he was there. Always there. The woman noticed. Her gaze flicked toward him before returning to me. A strange smile touched her lips. “He’s different from the others.” I frowned. “The others?” “The ones who came before.” The room instantly became tense. Rex’s expression darkened. “What others?” The woman immediately regretted saying it. I could see it. The realization crossed her face a second too late. Ash pointed dramatically. “There it is. Another terrifying statement.” Nobody laughed. The woman sighed.

That got her attention. She looked me up and down, all attitude. "Sir, watch what you say. That kind of claim can get you in trouble. Ms. Sweeney's husband is upstairs—having dinner with her and their child. You should leave." Talia said keeping a "strong, independent woman" image helped her run the hotel, so I stayed out of the spotlight. Because of that, everyone at Cresthaven only knew their GM was sharp, young, and in control. No one knew the place was mine.

The young woman was the original poster herself, a third-year medical student named Elowen Jensen. The moment she spotted me, who was struggling in Vincent's arms, she burst into tears. Pointing at me, she bellowed, "Girls, that's her! That's the old hag who seduced my boyfriend! Vince told me he doesn't love her at all; she's the one who's clinging to him and refusing to divorce him!" Her classmates and the netizens behind her immediately rushed forward to corner me. Vincent's next move sent me plunging straight into the abyss.

I watched the conversation from across the room. I could not hear it. I had the specific and particular view of a man at a distance watching two women speak — the silver-haired woman with the thirty years of rooms behind her and the twenty-four-year-old woman who had arrived in September with one suitcase and was standing at the front of this one with the quiet and specific authority of a woman who had found out what she was capable of. The Harper woman gave her a card. Lena took it.