Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)
Jilted Bride 82

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82

"Tell me why you want to invest in this show," James said as he closed the script.

Ophelia smiled, "There's no specific reason. But if you insist on one, it's simple. This show is guaranteed to be a hit." James asked, "So confident?"

He thought, 'If anyone else have said this, I might have thought they are overconfident. But when it comes from Ophelia, there is something in her eyes that makes me believe her, inexplicably. Ophelia had heard this story from Kevin when she was a teenager. It was about the redemption of two boys, a tale full of depth.

In her past life, Elliot had forcefully rewritten the original, turning it into a commercial romance drama to give Emily more screen time. He'd even twisted the dual male protagonists into a love triangle competing for one woman. Despite these changes, the series still drew a big audience. If that version could succeed, Kevin's original, which was far superior, would undoubtedly do even better, especially since fan fiction was becoming a growing market. "Mr. Guinnes scheduled us for three o'clock, and it's already three-thirty." A grating voice floated up from downstairs.

The old house had poor soundproofing, and James, who had been hesitating, furrowed his brows at the annoying noise and slammed his hand on the table. "Let's draft the contract."

Before he even finished speaking, a contract and a pen appeared in front of him.

James chuckled, "You're something else."

He took the contract, skimmed it, and finally signed his name on the last page. brought the contract with you."

"How were you so sure I'd sign? You even

In fact, Ophelia hadn't been completely certain. If James hadn't agreed today, she wouldn't have pushed. But she was ready to lay out the pros and cons. After all, there was still a bigger play ahead, and if James chose to invest in Elliot's project, he was bound to lose money.

Ophelia shrugged. "All I can say is, you made the right choice."

James was taken aback. He thought, 'She's quite bold.

Ophelia smiled and added, "To be blunt, your dedication to art outweighs your focus on profit. To flatter you a bit, you've got good taste."

"Are you flattering yourself, or me?" James tapped the air with his fingers. "I feel like I just got played by you. But I don't mind. You've got a way about you that I can't help but like."

and

He thought, 'There is something about Ophelia I couldn't quite put my finger on. All I could say is that she has good vibes. "Sit tight for a bit. We'll go over the details soon. Let me go downstairs and send them off first," James said, standing up leaving the private room. Ophelia took a sip of coffee and asked Chloe to check on Kevin's current address for her.

While waiting, she scrolled through her phone and saw that Kenneth had posted on his social media: [Missing you.] He also posted a photo of the stark, white ceiling of his hospital room. It oddly gave off a feeling of loneliness.

Ophelia couldn't help but smile. She commented: [Dear, don't you know? You can post without including a picture. Better ask Mark to teach you.]

In the hospital room, where Kenneth had only one WhatsApp friend, Ophelia, his pale face immediately turned darker as

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Chapter 82

he saw the comment. He said, "Mark."

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair, what is it?" Mark replied, ready to act.

Kenneth exhaled. "Never mind."

He thought, 'Ask Mark to teach me? I don't need that.

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Seeing that Kenneth hadn't replied, Ophelia's smile grew wider as she commented again: [How about I teach you myself?]

Kenneth replied: [Sure.]

Seeing his one-word reply, Ophelia could almost picture Kenneth's proud expression.

After sending Emily and Sophia away, James and Ophelia continued discussing until it was dark outside.

Leaving Café Sol, Ophelia took a cab to an old apartment building.

The hallway lights glowed a warm orange, and the walls were plastered with small, worn advertisements. By the time she reached the fifth floor, she could hear a man coughing roughly from inside one of the apartments. She continued up to the seventh floor and knocked on the middle iron door.

"Who's there?" A familiar voice called from inside, and Ophelia knew she was at the right place.

Kevin opened the door and put on his glasses. When he saw who was standing outside, he froze for a moment, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You are...?"

Kevin was wearing faded, old clothes, and his hair had turned mostly grey over the years.

Ophelia smiled, "It's me, Elia."

"Elia? Oh my, I didn't even recognize you. Come in." Kevin's eyes still curved into crescent shapes when he smiled, but now they were framed by lines of age.

Ophelia thought, 'He must be around fifty now. It feels like a lifetime has passed since we last met.'

Ophelia stepped into the small one-bedroom apartment, which was tidy and clean. The only thing that hadn't changed was that the place was still filled with books and piles of manuscripts.

"Have a seat, Elia. How did you replace out I live here?" Kevin's eyes shone with joy as if he were seeing a long-lost family member, mixed with a bit of pride.

"I asked around."

"I moved back here a couple of years ago, but I couldn't replace you" Kevin probably mentioned it to someone at the time, which was how Ophelia found out.

They chatted for a while, catching up on life. When the conversation turned to Kevin's current work, the light in his eyes dimmed slightly.

"Don't even mention it. I still don't have signing authority yet," he said with a casual tone, though the bitterness was clear. "You probably won't believe it, but those two award-winning shows from a couple of years ago, the ones by that renowned screenwriter Elliot, they were both adapted from my work." He said it with a hint of pride, but lacking the rights meant no one acknowledged him.

"But hey, at least I'm earning a bit of money now. How about I treat you to some cake? I heard girls your age like coffee. Let's I'll take you to get some." He grabbed his coat as he spoke. The apartment was too small to offer much hospitality.

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Ophelia didn't refuse his kindness, and they headed to a nearby street food market. Kevin bought her a large cup of coffee. "There aren't any cake shops nearby, so we'll have to save that for next time," he said.

"Alright." Ophelia took the coffee, popped in the straw, and took a big sip. "Thank you."

They sat on a bench at a bus stop. Ophelia asked, "Haven't you ever thought about leaving Elliot's company?"

"Elliot said that for the piece I'm working on now, I'll get credit as the original author." Kevin's eyes were still filled with hope despite all the unfairness life had thrown at him. A person like him, so optimistic, would later end up taking his own life in the last timeline. It was such a cruel irony.

"What if he doesn't give you credit?"

"Then I've thought it over. A company has reached out to me, and I could sell this piece to them."

That was exactly what happened in the previous life. Kevin had taken his work to that other company, only for Elliot to turn around and accuse him of stealing his work.

Kevin had very little understanding of intellectual property, and he couldn't clear his name. On one side was a renowned editor, and on the other, a poor man from the slu