Romans & histoires The Terminally Ill Villain Supports My Broken Engagement

I said, standing up. “Oh, now you want to leave? Now that I actually bring up the topic, you act like you’re the victim here, when you’ve been nothing but a villain the entire time.” “A villain? You think I’m the villain? What the hell are you talking about, Lucas? You want me to admit I wanted to see your body in the morgue? What kind of sick person wants to hear something like that? Only someone without a heart would say something like that.” “And you’re supposedly someone with a heart? If you’re so noble, why can’t you admit that you’ve always wanted what was mine and were willing to go to extreme lengths to get it?”

He shifted when he heard my footsteps echoing off the damp concrete walls. Apparently, there had been a security breach earlier this morning during my absence. Cowards, always sneaking in from behind. I'd say he wasn't lucky, but the rest were. What do I mean? The others were killed on sight. He was kept alive for questioning. Unlucky man. I smiled, if one could call the grim curve of my lips a smile. “Hi.” Nothing. Not even a response. People could be incredibly rude.

The night Cassian Arden met Seraphina Laurent. The night Elena Vale became the villainess. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table. Because she remembered. Every chapter. Every humiliation. Every death flag. She wasn’t in her world anymore. She was inside a novel. A bestselling romance story she once read during chemotherapy nights before everything went dark. And she had become the character everyone hated. Elena Vale. The obsessive fiancée. The “villainess who burns at the end.” Her legs weakened. She almost laughed.

In a heavy voice, he replied, "You're too emotional, Terrence. There isn't an infinite amount of Narrative favor in this world. You've transferred most of Quinn's fates and opportunities to Yvonne. It's only natural that she's not protected by the Narrative anymore." A hint of pity flashed across his eyes. After a brief pause, he added, "You even forced her to endure hardships that she was never supposed to bear in the first place. Her Narrative favor had already been drained by Yvonne a long time ago. Quinn Sawyer is no longer the female protagonist." Terrence clutched his chest. The ache in his chest made it incredibly difficult for him to breathe. He couldn't believe that he was the reaso

Still, I went on, "My best friend and my husband had sex in my grandfather-in-law's casket on the day of his burial. Then, after I exposed them, my mother-in-law and these two tried to twist the narrative and paint me as the villain. "I am the victim here. I've suffered two betrayals from the people closest to me. This is the proof." I raised the phone. "They planned this themselves. I believe even my grandfather's spirit can see that I'm innocent. And I have all of you as witnesses." I turned to Dulce and finished, "Is there any doubt left?" Vincent suddenly sat up in the coffin. "Fuck you, bitch! Victim my ass! You caused this too!" he bellowed. "Yes, I'm cheating with Stephanie. So what?!

“That’s not an answer.” His jaw tightened. “It’s the only one I can give you right now.” Something about that answer felt incomplete. Carefully guarded. Like the truth existed just beneath it—but was being deliberately held back. He exhaled slowly, as though something buried deep inside him had stirred against his will. “I had a beloved once,” he said finally. “She betrayed me. And I ended it.” The finality in his tone made the air feel colder. Rose studied him. “And you think I’m… what? A replacement?”

But why would she make a request to my fiance? "She doesn’t have much time left." Tristan’s voice softened. "Victoria is terminally ill. The doctors say she may not live to see the end of the year. Her final wish is to be a bride having a dream wedding." He smiled at me."You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met in my life. I know you wouldn’t have the heart to say no." My chest tightened, but not with grief—more like rage twisting its claws around my ribs. No. No way. This was so like her.

A week later, I received news that Lilith had been forcibly sent to a mental institution. Her once-beautiful face was now disfigured by glass cuts. She wandered around in madness, constantly crying out, “Lucas, save me! Don’t let them talk about me. I’m so scared…” Eventually, as her condition worsened, she lost her grip on reality and fell from a tall building. As for Lucas, under the Werewolf Association's sentencing, his life also came to an end. One day, while engrossed in work, I received a call from an unknown number.

“Andrea knew what awaited him. A slow death, hours of brutal torture until he’d given up all his secrets. By provoking you, he died a quick death.” I regarded the bloody mess on the floor. “I doubt it was the painless end he’d hoped for.” “Not painless, no,” Felix said, following my gaze. “But fairly quick. Better than he deserved, if you ask me.” I leaned back against the wall, not sure where to go from here. My wife had betrayed me, admitted that she’d rather see me dead, and threatened to kill our baby, if it was even ours. My chest constricted until every breath was a struggle.

Thanks to her and her prompt search for help, I did not have my leg amputated. "Dylan, where is Car--- ma'am Carmelita?" I asked Dylan. I sat down and was promptly supported by the young man. "I can do it, Dylan," I said, so he didn't help but still stood by my side. "The doctor said she's okay, Brother." I was relieved by what Dylan said but was also replaced by nervousness when he said next, "But she hasn't woken up yet." "Huh? Where is she?" I tried to stand up because of what I heard, but suddenly my leg hurt. Even though I intend to take revenge on the woman, I don't want her to die. I will only teach a lesson. I don't want her to die.