She sneered, “I actually feel sorry for you; after all, you jeopardized your future just to frame me, and in the end, you couldn’t even make him blame me a bit.” Vanessa’s face contorted in anger.

Suddenly, Phoebe grabbed her injured left hand, a sharp glint flashed in her eyes, “Actually, I kind of pity you. Do you want me to help you out?” Vanessa looked at her warily, trying to pull her hand back.

Only then did she realize how strong Phoebe was gripping her; she couldn’t pull away at all. She looked at Phoebe in panic, “What are you going to do?”

“To help you,” Phoebe said sweetly, then suddenly squeezed the palm of Vanessa’s injured hand with force until fresh blood spurted out, staining the bandage red. Only then did Phoebe leisurely withdraw her hand. She looked at Vanessa’s face twisted in pain and whitened, “There, now you can go to Theodore and play the victim.”

After speaking, she wiped the blood from her hands onto Vanessa’s white nightgown and even gave her a provocative glance.

“Don’t be too grateful.”

Shaking all over with pain, Vanessa glared at Phoebe’s retreating back. “Phoebe, I will not let you off, just wait for it.” “Bring it on.”

Phoebe snorted coldly, entered her bedroom without looking back, leaving Vanessa’s furious roars outside the door.

Vanessa stood in the living room, her complexion deathly pale from pain. She never expected Phoebe to pull such a move, adding insult to injury to the wound in her palm. That bitch!

Having taken out her anger on Vanessa, Phoebe felt much better. After washing up, she lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Half asleep and half awake, she felt someone push open the bedroom door. She rolled her eyes toward the entrance and saw Vanessa tiptoeing in.

In her hand was a gleaming kitchen knife, which under the moonlight emitted a threatening chill as she slowly approached the bed.

Phoebe’s eyes widened, fixated on Vanessa. She wanted to speak but could make no sound; she tried to sit up but was immobile.

All she could do was watch as Vanessa raised the knife and fiercely chopped towards her neck.

“Ah!”

Phoebe screamed and sat up, her heart pounding wildly. She looked around-no Vanessa, no kitchen knife, and she wasn’t splattered with blood. Gasping, sweat streamed down her forehead as she collapsed on the bed, panting heavily.

The dream had felt so real, as if she had just lived through it.

She reached up to touch her neck.

Thankfully, it was still there!

She lay in bed for quite some time before she collected herself, completely devoid of any desire to sleep. She picked up her phone to check the time. Five fifty.

She got up, washed up, and changed clothes.

The living room was silent; Vanessa wasn’t there, nor was Theodore. After standing there for a while, she turned and entered the kitchen.

She wouldn’t bother making breakfast for them. She heated up a dose of medicine, took it, then packed two more doses into her purse before heading out. At just past six, the sun had already risen, casting a reddish glow on the horizon.

Phoebe walked into the office, carrying breakfast to the pantry. She had just finished grinding coffee when someone came in. She looked up and froze.

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