Marriage Lottery: Heaven Sign Or Hell Ticket Chapter 02
When I opened my eyes, I was on my wedding night with Elias.
Elias was strikingly handsome, but his eyes held no warmth at all.
He tossed a document onto the table. “Sign it.”
I picked it up. It was a marriage agreement.
[No interference in each other’s private lives; a monthly allowance of five million.]
[No entry to the study on the third floor.]
[Every month, Aria Hartley must go to the family chapel to pray for Elias Whitmore’s true love twice.]
Looking at those familiar clauses, I almost laughed.
In the last life, Vivian felt humiliated, tore the agreement apart, and swore she would win Elias over with sincerity.
She was locked in the basement that very night.
But this time, when I saw the five million monthly allowance, I signed my name without hesitation.
Elias was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be so cooperative. “You’re not going to read the terms?”
I handed the agreement back to him, smiling, “Mr. Whitmore, you loved someone else. I understand.”
“As long as the money comes as promised, I’ll do more than pray. I’ll even call your true love ‘Mom’ if you’d like.”
Elias’s expression darkened instantly. “Get out.”
I left quickly.
Being a wealthy heir’s wife meant having money, having free time, a husband who never came home, and no pressure to produce an heir.
And Vivian actually thought that was some kind of suffering?
Some people really couldn’t appreciate the finer things in life.
Just as I stepped out of the bedroom, a message from Vivian arrived.
[Aria, we’re the best sisters in the world. I know marrying an heir means you’ll be living like a widow.]
[But don’t worry, I’ll bear the bitterness of love for you. You mustn’t lose hope or think of harming yourself! I couldn’t go on without you.]
I let out a derisive laugh.
Vivian truly was putting on a performance this time. Did she lose her appetite if she couldn’t see me suffer?
Then her Instagram update popped up.
The background was the gloomy Cross Manor.
She was wearing a spaghetti strap nightgown, showing off plenty of skin.
[Damian may have a bad temper, but that’s only because he cares too much about me. The night is beautiful tonight. I can’t wait for our wedding night.]
I opened the photo and zoomed in.
Shards of shattered glass littered the floor in the corner.
And on her exposed wrist, I could faintly see a purplish bruise.
I smiled and left a single sticker in her comments: [Good luck!]
“Vivian, your blessings are only just getting started.”