Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper - Chapter 119: Chapter 119
You are reading Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper, Chapter 119: Chapter 119. Read more chapters of Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper.
For a moment, my heart stopped.
Elon had never mentioned me.
The people planned to use these videos to blackmailing Elon and Stacy for endless wealth.
But I wouldn’t give them the chance. If everything was going to burn, we’d burn together.
At the grand wedding, the screen showing the photos flickered.
After the static, a chaotic, panicked face appeared, laughter and cries echoing through the hall.
This was my wedding gift to Stacy—and my backup plan.
The tape from Elon’s safe, with all the perpetrators’ names, was now public.
The room erupted in shock. Stacy’s perfect face twisted as she frantically pushed guests and reporters out.
"Damn it, was it you who did this? Do you want to kill us?"
"Go to hell!"
Rain blurred my vision. I couldn’t see their angry faces, only felt the pain in my abdomen.
The stress and the rain finally made the medication take effect.
Warm liquid trickled down my legs. Pale and weak, I curled up, letting them hit me.
The rope binding me was slowly cut.
When the rope finally snapped, I would fall uncontrollably, crashing into a heap of broken flesh.
On this tiny rooftop, no one would come to rescue me.
I calmly closed my eyes, waiting for it all to end, hoping only that Grandpa would be at peace in the nursing home.
The expected pain didn’t come. Suddenly, my wrist was yanked hard.
Elon, who should have been at the wedding in a sharp suit, was panting heavily, soaked in rain.
Even though his arm was dislocated from the force, he still didn’t let go of my hand.
His black hair was drenched, and his face was unusually panic-stricken and disheveled. He stubbornly tried to save me.
In reality, Elon would always be as cold as he sounded on the phone.
How could he abandon his wife to save someone like me, someone he had no relation to?
I thought of this as a ridiculous fantasy in my final moments, watching Elon's panic-stricken face.
Suddenly, a sense of twisted satisfaction surged inside me. I just wanted to drive another knife into his heart.
"Elon, my biggest regret is pulling you down from the rooftop that day."
If I could go back again, I would have let his life fall, giving him no chance to deceive me.
When I was finally rescued from the rooftop, I had almost lost consciousness, my abdomen in agonizing cramps.
I could only vaguely see Elon, his twisted arm, his shocked expression slowly turning to one of sickness and stubbornness.
He held a syringe filled with a clear liquid, bringing it close to me, his eyes red as he injected the cold liquid into my body.
"Emma, you can’t get rid of me."
Once you save someone on the brink of death, don’t think you can abandon them again.
"Emma, don’t think about abandoning me again."
Elon had never mentioned me.
The people planned to use these videos to blackmailing Elon and Stacy for endless wealth.
But I wouldn’t give them the chance. If everything was going to burn, we’d burn together.
At the grand wedding, the screen showing the photos flickered.
After the static, a chaotic, panicked face appeared, laughter and cries echoing through the hall.
This was my wedding gift to Stacy—and my backup plan.
The tape from Elon’s safe, with all the perpetrators’ names, was now public.
The room erupted in shock. Stacy’s perfect face twisted as she frantically pushed guests and reporters out.
"Damn it, was it you who did this? Do you want to kill us?"
"Go to hell!"
Rain blurred my vision. I couldn’t see their angry faces, only felt the pain in my abdomen.
The stress and the rain finally made the medication take effect.
Warm liquid trickled down my legs. Pale and weak, I curled up, letting them hit me.
The rope binding me was slowly cut.
When the rope finally snapped, I would fall uncontrollably, crashing into a heap of broken flesh.
On this tiny rooftop, no one would come to rescue me.
I calmly closed my eyes, waiting for it all to end, hoping only that Grandpa would be at peace in the nursing home.
The expected pain didn’t come. Suddenly, my wrist was yanked hard.
Elon, who should have been at the wedding in a sharp suit, was panting heavily, soaked in rain.
Even though his arm was dislocated from the force, he still didn’t let go of my hand.
His black hair was drenched, and his face was unusually panic-stricken and disheveled. He stubbornly tried to save me.
In reality, Elon would always be as cold as he sounded on the phone.
How could he abandon his wife to save someone like me, someone he had no relation to?
I thought of this as a ridiculous fantasy in my final moments, watching Elon's panic-stricken face.
Suddenly, a sense of twisted satisfaction surged inside me. I just wanted to drive another knife into his heart.
"Elon, my biggest regret is pulling you down from the rooftop that day."
If I could go back again, I would have let his life fall, giving him no chance to deceive me.
When I was finally rescued from the rooftop, I had almost lost consciousness, my abdomen in agonizing cramps.
I could only vaguely see Elon, his twisted arm, his shocked expression slowly turning to one of sickness and stubbornness.
He held a syringe filled with a clear liquid, bringing it close to me, his eyes red as he injected the cold liquid into my body.
"Emma, you can’t get rid of me."
Once you save someone on the brink of death, don’t think you can abandon them again.
"Emma, don’t think about abandoning me again."
End of Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper Chapter 119. Continue reading Chapter 120 or return to Her Scissors Cut My Hair, But His Betrayal Cut Deeper book page.