His Dead Lover In A New Body

Briana's bare feet slapped loudly against the pristine marble floor. She swayed her hips exaggeratedly, walking straight to the sofa and dropping her weight heavily onto the cushion directly across from Kathleen.

Kathleen instantly pressed a manicured hand over her nose, leaning back as if Briana's cheap perfume was toxic gas.

The butler rushed forward, his face pale. "Miss, you cannot be here-"

"Clark told me to stay here!" Briana shrieked, her voice echoing shrilly in the cavernous hall. "Who the hell is gonna touch me?"

At the sound of Clark's name, the polite mask on Kathleen's face cracked. Her jaw tightened. She looked down at Briana with absolute superiority. "And who exactly are you?"

Briana rolled her eyes dramatically. She grabbed the hem of her coffee-stained sequin dress and hiked it up her thigh. "Clark picked this out for me last night. In his car."

The implication hit Kathleen like a physical slap. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her teacup.

Kathleen let out a cold, condescending laugh. She unclasped her limited-edition Birkin bag, pulled out a checkbook, and scribbled a number.

She tossed the check onto the glass coffee table. It fluttered down like trash. "Take the money and get out. Don't dirty Clark's rugs."

Briana stared at the check. The memories of Kathleen stealing her family's company, her life, her future, boiled over.

A sharp, hysterical laugh burst from Briana's throat. It grew louder, echoing off the high ceilings, sounding completely unhinged.

The hair on Kathleen's arms stood up. "Guards! Throw this trash out!" she snapped.

Two massive bodyguards stepped forward.

Before they could reach her, Briana lunged. She grabbed the cup of Earl Grey tea from the table. With a vicious flick of her wrist, she sent the brown liquid splashing directly across Kathleen's pristine white gown and shocked face.

Kathleen gasped, a shrill, humiliated shriek tearing from her throat as the tea ruined her perfect makeup.

The guards lunged. Briana twisted her body, slipping out of their grasp like a snake. She grabbed a heavy crystal fruit bowl and hurled it at the closest guard's chest, knocking him back.

Chaos erupted. Briana sprinted across the hall toward a terrified maid who was holding a heavy mop bucket.

The bucket was filled with the day's filthy, grey mop water, thick with dirt and smelling of bleach and grime.

Briana snatched the bucket by the handle. Her eyes were dead, locked onto her target.

Kathleen was still shrieking on the sofa, wiping at her burning eyes.

Briana stepped up, raised the heavy bucket, and dumped the entire contents directly over Kathleen's head.

The filthy sludge ruined the custom white silk gown instantly. Kathleen sat frozen, dripping with grey mud, looking like a drowned rat pulled from a sewer.

The absolute humiliation shattered Kathleen's sanity. She let out a feral screech and lunged at Briana, hands outstretched to claw her face.

Briana was ready. She feigned a stumble, falling backward. As Kathleen leaned over her, Briana brought her knee up and drove it brutally into Kathleen's kneecap.

Kathleen cried out, her legs buckling. She crashed to her knees.

Briana instantly flipped their positions, straddling Kathleen's waist. She raised her hand and delivered a vicious, ringing slap to Kathleen's cheek. Then another.

Smack! Smack!

"That's for Clark!" Briana screamed, masking her personal vengeance as jealous rage. "He thinks you're disgusting!"

The bodyguards finally broke through the chaos. They grabbed Briana by the arms and violently hauled her off Kathleen.

Kathleen was sobbing hysterically, clutching her red, swollen face. The stench of the dirty water radiated off her. She couldn't even formulate a threat. She shoved the butler away, covered her face, and ran out the front doors into the night.

The roar of her sports car engine faded into the distance.

The grand hall was dead silent, save for Briana's heavy breathing. She was pinned to the floor by two guards, her hair a mess, but a wide, euphoric smile stretched across her face.

Up on the second-floor balcony, Clark stood in a black silk robe. He looked down at the wreckage, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Jairo stood beside him. "Should I have her thrown out, sir?"

Clark watched the feral, smiling girl pinned to his floor. Slowly, the corner of his mouth curved upward.

He raised a hand and flicked his fingers. "Let her go."