Reborn Heiress: Married To My Ex-Husband's Rival
Chapter 92 I Hate Her Father

Chapter 92: Chapter 92 I Hate Her Father

Kingsley’s eyes moved slowly between Jack and Vanessa. The lines on his forehead deepened as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

He could feel the tension between Jack and Vanessa.

"You two know each other?" Kingsley asked, his voice calm, but his jaw was tight, his eyes sank, trying to decipher Vanessa’s expressions.

Jack gave a bitter laugh. He pointed at Vanessa as if she was a clown.

"Know her? This woman was my ex-girlfriend," he said loudly. "Her name’s not Vanessa. It’s Lucinda."

Vanessa’s face went pale. Her lips parted but no sound came out. She felt unfamiliar sense of panic wash over her.

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "Lucinda? No. You’re wrong. Her name is Vanessa." He wasn’t even sure himself.

Jack shook his head slowly, enjoying every second of the tension. "No, Dear Kingsley Elm. You’ve been played. She’s always been Lucinda. That’s the name she gave me when she was in my bed. When we were building a future... before she ran off."

Kingsley looked at Vanessa again. His heart thudded once. Shock spread on his face in disbelief.

"Is that true?" he asked quietly. "Is your name not Vanessa?"

Vanessa’s lips trembled. Her fingers gripped the wheelchair tightly. "Kingsley, please. Let me explain—"

Jack interrupted with a sharp laugh.

"Explain? What’s there to explain? You’re a chameleon. With me, you were Lucinda. With him, you’re Vanessa. Who are you really, huh? A cripple now? Or just another lie in a dress?"

Kingsley stared at her, everything in him twisting. Then his mind pulled up a memory—the day of their wedding. The day she vanished.

"You ran away from me," he said, voice cold. "Left me at the altar knowing damn well what I was going through at the moment—I lost my parents then!. The same day I heard rumors you’d left with some man. That man... was you, Jack?"

Jack gave a smug smile and bowed slightly. "Guilty as charged."

Kingsley’s eyes burned into Vanessa. "You left me... for him?"

Vanessa looked like she couldn’t breathe. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was complicated. I was confused. Jack made promises—"

"—Promises I couldn’t keep," Jack cut in with a shrug. "Yeah, yeah. Spare us the soap opera."

Kingsley’s face grew darker. His voice was quiet but sharp. "So when he lost everything, you came crawling back to me. In a wheelchair. Playing the pity card."

Vanessa shook her head fast. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "No! I didn’t come back for that. I didn’t even know you were—"

"Save it," Kingsley snapped. "You lied about everything. I knew something was always fishy about you. Cheap hypocrite from the slum."

Raymond, standing by the side, scoffed loudly. He folded his arms and rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Jack stepped closer to Vanessa. His eyes were cold, his smile cruel. "You always were a little actress. But the play’s over now, Lucinda."

"Stop calling me that!" she cried. "That name is dead! I’m not her anymore!"

Jack’s hand moved fast and landed a hard slap across her face. Her head snapped to the side. The sound echoed through the parking lot of the hospital.

Raymond flinched. One of the guards shifted. But Kingsley stood still. His fists clenched, but he didn’t speak. His face was stoic as he watched the scenes unfold before him.

Vanessa gasped, holding her cheek that seems to have been burnt. Tears ran freely down her eyes and stained her cheeks.

Kingsley looked at her one last time, his eyes were cold like ice. Then he turned.

"Let’s go," he said to Raymond and the other men.

"No. No. Kingsley, please come back." Vanessa screamed, too immersed in her ’act to be a cripple’ role that she genuinely forgot she could stand up from the wheelchair and run after him.

Without another word, Kingsley got into the car. Raymond followed. The guards moved in silence. One by one, the doors closed. The engines started.

Jack turned to watch the cars as they pulled out of the garage and mixed with other cars on the road.

Now alone with Vanessa/ Lucinda, Jack laughed again. "Wow. You really screwed that one up."

Vanessa stared at Kingsley’s cars disappearing into the distance. She looked broken as if she had just lost a part of herself.

When the garage went quiet, Jack walked closer and squatted beside her wheelchair.

"You thought you could play both sides, huh? Kingsley the rich man. Me the wild lover. But now, neither of us wants you."

Vanessa’s voice shook with rage. "You ruined this for me! You couldn’t just stay away!"

Jack shrugged. "I didn’t ruin anything. You’re the one who faked being crippled."

"I had a plan!" she screamed. "You just came and crushed it! Like always!"

Jack leaned in close. His voice turned low and mocking. "You’re nothing without someone to carry you. And now....you got no one."

He stood up, brushing dust from his jeans. "I’ll bounce back. But you?"

He looked down at her with a smirk. "Good luck."

Jack walked away without looking back. He opened the door to his rusted car, the engine made a violent sound like it was coughing as it started. He drove off, tires squealing slightly on the concrete floor.

Vanessa was alone now.

She sat in the middle of the garage, she could hear her own breathing. The wheelchair didn’t move. Her hands were shaking beside her.

She looked down at her lap. Her dress was wrinkled. Her face stung from the slap. Her heart felt like it was bleeding.

Then she screamed. A loud, raw and painful scream.

"LIARS!" she cried. "YOU’RE ALL LIARS!"

She pounded the armrests with her fists.

"I HATE YOU, JACK! I HATE YOU, KINGSLEY!"

Her breathing grew uneven. Her chest rose and fell in fast succession. She looked around like a trapped animal.

There was no one left.

—

—

Kingsley sat on the dark brown leather couch in his living room, a half-empty wine glass in his hand. The floor around him was filled with wine bottles, some full, most empty.

He took another sip, letting it burn down his throat.

Mrs Jenkins walked past the living room. She paused in the doorway, took one long look at the mess, and sighed.

"Young man," she muttered, "you’ll rot your liver before you fix your heart."

She shook her head and turned around, heading to the kitchen. "I’m making dinner," she called over her shoulder. "Maybe eat something before you drink yourself into the floor."

Kingsley didn’t respond. He swirled the wine in the glass and stared at it like it held answers.

A few minutes later, Raymond walked in. He stopped just inside the room and looked around, looking rather unimpressed. His eyes landed on Kingsley.

"You’re turning this place into a graveyard," he said.

Kingsley chuckled, dry and bitter. "It’s my house. I can turn it into a funeral home if I want."

Raymond shook his head and stepped closer. "You know, instead of drinking like a water tank with a hole in it, you could just go apologize to Jasmine. Bring her back home."

Kingsley’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look up. "I don’t want her back."

"Sure," Raymond said, crossing his arms. "And that’s why you’ve been drinking like your soul is on fire since the day she walked out."

Kingsley scoffed. "Don’t talk like you know me."

"I do know you," Raymond replied, his tone was a little sharp. "I’ve known you since you were nothing but pride and suits. You were better when she was around. Now look at you."

Kingsley didn’t reply. He took another sip instead and pretended like his secretary wasn’t talking to him in such an unruly manner.

"I only drink two glasses a day," Kingsley said finally, his voice low. "Sometimes none. But lately... I can’t stop at ten."

He set the glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I miss her," he said quietly. "I keep telling myself I don’t. That I’m better off. But... I miss her."

Raymond nodded slowly. "Then what’s stopping you?"

Kingsley looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. "Her father," he said. "That man... he had a hand in the death of my parents. I hate him."

Raymond didn’t blink. " Are you in love with her or in hate with him?"

Kingsley frowned. "What does that mean?"

Raymond took a step closer. "If your hate for her father is stronger than the love you have for Jasmine... then maybe you never really loved her at all."

The words hit like a slap.

Kingsley didn’t respond.

He sat there, his hands tightened around the glass.

Raymond waited for a moment, then shook his head and turned away.

"I’ll be in the kitchen with Mrs Jenkins," he said over his shoulder. "Figure it out. Or don’t."

The door shut behind him.

Kingsley was left alone again. To wallow in his thoughts and figure things out on his own.

He stared at the glass in his hand, then slowly set it down. He leaned back into the couch, closed his eyes, and felt the ache spread through his chest.