My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 03

My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 03

Grayson snapped back. He yanked his gaze away, voice hardening. “Nothing. Let her enjoy her little moment. Once she’s married off and widowed in all but name, she’ll have plenty to cry about.”

He said the words, but something in his chest tightened.

As he was leaving, he passed the terrace and slowed his steps. He threw a remark over his shoulder. “Don’t think all that money means you’ve won. Marry in and do your duty. Don’t shame this family.”

I kept watering. “Mm.”

He stared at the calm line of my profile for a few seconds. The irrational irritation surged hotter. He wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him.

In the days that followed, Grayson visited the Vance estate with unusual frequency.

Every time, he claimed he’d brought something for Celeste. Every time, his eyes strayed toward me.

One afternoon he brought a mango mousse. When he handed it to Celeste, she frowned and pushed it back. “You forgot I’m allergic to mangoes?”

Grayson paused. Without thinking, his gaze flicked to me.

He had passed a patisserie yesterday and noticed me staring at this exact mousse for a full thirty seconds. He’d bought it on impulse.

He shoved the box toward me. “Seraphina, I already bought it. If Celeste can’t eat it, you take it.”

I looked at the mousse and spoke flatly. “No. Throw it out.”

I turned and walked into the kitchen. I didn’t look at Grayson again.

He stared after me, fingers crushing the pastry box.

He had to be losing his mind.

To remember, unbidden, what this woman loved to eat.

The day before my wedding, my mother called me to the living room and shoved a wrinkled white dress into my arms. “Wear this tomorrow. “No one’s coming to watch a deathbed wedding anyway. Don’t waste money on something new.”

I glanced at the gown. A rental. There was a red wine stain on the train that wouldn’t come out.

“No need. I have something.”

“What could you possibly have?” My mother rolled her eyes. “I’m warning you, don’t start with me. You’re lucky to get anything at all. Stop being difficult.”

I ignored her and walked back to my room.

On the desk sat an unmarked parcel. It had arrived that morning. I opened it and found a formal red gown inside — a deep crimson silk piece, embroidered with intricate florals, the stitching impossibly fine.

I was running my fingers over the fabric when I heard two knocks at my door.

Grayson stood in the doorway, his expression uneasy. “I came to drop off Celeste’s wedding shoes. And to remind you — tomorrow is the wedding. Don’t try anything.”

He paused. “Celeste has suffered enough. No one gets to hurt her in this life.”

Suffered enough?

She grew up in this mansion, pampered in silk and cashmere. She got everything she ever wanted.

What suffering did she endure?

The one who suffered was me.

I was the one who spent seventeen years in the countryside, splitting firewood, slopping pigs, eating scraps.

I was the one who returned to the Vance family and was treated like a trespasser — shoved into a storage room, fed leftovers, whispered about by everyone.

I was the one who married him in my last life and got branded a shameless schemer by his entire social circle. The one he iced out for three decades.

I died in a hospital bed, with no one to even close my eyes.

Celeste suffered?

Her only suffering was having her spotlight stolen by the real daughter.

His gaze dropped to the crimson gown in my hands. He frowned. “What is that old rag? Don’t wear something that makes you look ridiculous and embarrasses your sister.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

I folded the gown carefully into the small suitcase I had bought with my own money. I didn’t lift my eyes once.

Grayson stood in the doorway, watching me for a long moment. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

In the end, he just let out a cold scoff, turned, and walked away.