Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 99: Love?

Esme hummed a sweet, lilting melody as she reread the text she had gotten from a contact, her lips curving slowly into a satisfied smile.

Her fingers flew over the screen with practiced ease as she typed her response.

Make it VIRAL. Then deliver the phone to me through the post.

She hit send and shook her head musically, the tune never leaving her lips, twirling lightly out of the elevator the moment it dinged.

Sabrina dared to threaten her?

She twirled again, heels clicking softly against the floor. Did the fool really think she was some rich kid with no common sense—someone who could be taken for a ride, used up, and discarded once useless?

Esme twirled again, this time more dramatically, one hand shooting up into the air like a ballerina striking a final pose.

This would show her.

This would teach her to cut her coat according to her size—to stay firmly on her miserable level. They were no equals. Never had been.

She pressed the button to the apartment door, still humming, the melody dancing with her mood.

It remained Gianna.

The bitch was just lucky, Esme decided bitterly. Maybe she had slept with the fates—or bribed whatever god was in charge of fortune and favors—but it didn’t matter. Luck could be overturned.

The door still hadn’t opened.

Esme brought up her phone, already dialing as she waited. She would teach Gianna a lesson soon enough—and this time, she wouldn’t need a scapegoat to do it.

"Hey, Mason... where are you?" she said brightly into the phone. "I’m right outside your door..."

She shook her head to a beat only she could hear, her hand making loose, wavy movements as she swayed—half breakdancing, half performing some improvised routine—looking almost like a boneless snake.

The door opened seconds later.

"Esme... what are you doing here?" Mason asked, brows furrowing as he looked at her. He seemed paler than usual, shadows sitting under his eyes.

Esme shrugged and pushed past him before he could protest, ignoring the disgruntled look he sent her way.

"I heard from Daphne that you weren’t feeling fine," she said breezily. "So I came around... considering I’m a good cousin sister."

Mason rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Well then," he said dryly, stepping aside, "make yourself comfortable..."

She followed him into the sitting room after he shut the door, her gaze sweeping the space. She watched him dump himself heavily onto the couch, reach for the large container of cheese balls, and start digging into it, chewing noisily.

"Are you really sick," Esme asked, her tone sharpening as realization crept in, "or are you just heartbroken?"

The anger slipped into her voice when she saw what was playing on the television. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the station—and then the content.

A short video looped endlessly: Noah’s punch thrown toward Zane, and Zane sidestepping it with infuriating ease.

Esme sighed when Mason didn’t answer her. She dropped onto the seat beside him, unable to quell her curiosity despite herself. With every word the newscaster said, her frown deepened.

Turns out the object of the quarrel was Gianna.

Surprise surprise. Of course it was.

Esme gritted her teeth, her hands curling into fists as she watched the armor her brother had refined and worn for years crack for the first time in forever.

What was wrong with this idiot? What was wrong with these men, fussing over a mere pussy that wasn’t even great—she was sure of it.

Now look at this one, she thought angrily, her gaze flicking to Mason as he chomped mindlessly on cheese balls.

And for what? A woman who didn’t even look at him twice.

He had taken leave from work for the same woman.

This woman could singlehandedly bring down everything they had worked for—and they wouldn’t even see it coming.

The anger surged in waves.

Esme shot up from the chair and stalked toward him. She grabbed the container from his thigh, yanking it away. Before he could even open his mouth, her hand flew up and landed a sharp, burning slap across his cheek.

"Wake up, Mason Beckett!!!"

Mason froze, shock rippling through him. His hand flew to the stinging spot on his face as his mind scrambled to understand what had just happened—what had caused it, what had possessed Esme with the audacity to raise her hand at him.

Slowly, he rose to his feet.

Esme pulled back instinctively, uncertainty flickering briefly in her gaze. Mason caught it—and smirked.

"What?" he asked coolly. "Afraid now?"

Esme scoffed. "As if." She waved a hand toward the room. "What are you doing?"

She gestured again, sharper this time. "I understand your desire for independence—that’s why you left the family house. But this..."

She waved at the scattered junk, the half-empty containers, the mess. "This is not what your father had in mind when he let you live alone."

A pause followed.

"What happened to my strong cousin?" she demanded. "What does that woman have that turns you all into idiots? Can’t you see you’re losing your spark?"

Mason deflated. The fight drained out of him as he sank back onto the couch.

"I think I love her."

Esme scoffed again, harsh and dismissive. "If you’re still thinking, then you don’t love her. You’re just infatuated with what she represents."

She leaned closer. "At least have the good sense to use her for the company’s good, the way your father is doing. Don’t go sleepy-eyed and dull about it."

Her voice sharpened. "You’re making her feel powerful—and that gives her more energy to keep looking down on you. So wake up!"

"You can talk without shouting..." Mason muttered, though her words had already begun to sink in.

Had he gone soft on Gianna—even knowing she didn’t want him soft?

How could he blame himself? He had always gone soft on women because they loved it. He just didn’t know how to... go hard. Or was it strong?

He ruffled his hair in frustration.

Watching her, wanting her, and not being able to have her made him sick. He needed her—needed to ease that ache.

And now his cousin brother had set his sights on her too.

If they finally happened, he would never have her. Never.

"I need to have her, Esme..."

Esme softened instantly. She sat on the armrest and rubbed his shoulder fondly. "Of course," she said gently. "And you will have her. I promise."

She smiled, confidence absolute. "And you know I don’t fail my promises. Just follow my advice—and you’ll be fine."

She leaned in and kissed his hair, pulling him into her chest. "If you want Gianna," she murmured, holding him close, "you’ll have her. As much as you want."