Ever since Evan hurt me and brought in a doctor to treat my injuries, he hadn’t shown up for several days.
During that time, I pretended to be sick, quietly planning my escape.
Anne, not one to let things rest, created a new account to contact me and bombarded me with countless photos of her and Evan looking intimate and happy. Her messages were dripping with affection and smugness, as though she were staking her claim.
I felt nothing.
I calmly opened each photo, saving them one by one.
After scrolling through her blatant attempts to show off, I casually replied, “After all those tricks you’ve pulled, Evan still hasn’t proposed to you?”
Her facade crumbled instantly. She fired off a barrage of voice notes and texts, each more venomous than the last.
“Have you seen what people are saying about you online? The one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker! The public sees the truth, clear as day.”
She gloated for a while longer, and when I didn’t respond immediately, she sent another jab, “If I hadn’t left the country back then, do you really think you’d even have a chance?”
I quickly texted back, “Great! Let’s switch places. You help me leave, and I’ll leave the Scott family to you. The title of Mrs. Scott will be all yours.”
She hesitated for a moment but ultimately refused.
