Chapter 113

Ever since Vivienne Archer joined the production crew, Serena Blake's days had become unbearable.

"Serena, that move is wrong," Vivienne interrupted the rehearsal again, demonstrating the correct posture with effortless grace that reduced Serena to a mere backdrop.

Serena bit her lip, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Spotting Damian Cross entering the room, she quickly lowered her head, exposing the delicate curve of her neck.

"Mr. Cross..." Her voice trembled.

But Damian walked straight past her, handing Vivienne an ice-cold water bottle. "Settling in alright?"

"Absolutely," Vivienne twisted the cap off, winking at Aria Bennett. "Especially after making new friends."

Aria returned the smile. "Likewise."

The two beauties exchanged a radiant grin that stung like sunlight.

"Your skin is flawless," Vivienne leaned in, suddenly pinching Aria's cheek. "What's your secret?"

"Good genes," Aria smirked. "Though that perfume suits you perfectly."

Vivienne laughed. "Sharp eye!"

Her twirling skirt revealed every curve of her enviable figure.

"Some people," Vivienne's gaze flickered toward Serena, "couldn't pull this off even half-dressed."

Aria smoothly added, "Not everyone's blessed with the right assets."

Serena's nails dug into her palms as she clenched her skirt. She cast a pleading look at Damian, only to find him engrossed in his phone.

"Brunch this weekend?" Vivienne slung an arm around Aria.

"Sure." Aria pulled out her phone. "Let's exchange contacts."

As they traded numbers, Serena finally bolted from the rehearsal room.

Meanwhile, at the Blackwell family estate...

"Grandmother, I can't take this..." Dorian Blackwell collapsed onto the sofa, his face ghostly pale.

The elderly matriarch fussed over him. "Another nightmare?"

"The coffin...the woman in red..." Dorian trembled violently. "She's coming for me!"

The old woman immediately dialed the blood mage.

Smoke coiled through the mystic's dim chamber. Studying the ghost marriage contract, her expression darkened. "The groom's been switched."

"What?" Dorian sprang up.

The blood mage sneered. "Someone altered the hex. Now you're the one bound in this unholy union."

The matriarch's knees buckled. "How...how do we fix this?"

"Find the caster," the blood mage's eyes gleamed with malice. "Make sure she dies first."

Dorian clenched his fists. "Moira Blackwell! It has to be her!"

"Patience." The blood mage produced a gleaming pair of scissors, snipping a lock of Dorian's hair. "She'll come to us."

Tossing the strands into a brazier, she watched the flames dance. "The real show's just beginning."