Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 257

She dumped all the old memories onto a pile with her out-of-season clothes, ready to be tossed out.

There was the lotus flower she’d pressed for him when she was fifteen. The jar of origami wishing stars she’d made at seventeen. The concert ticket for his favorite band when she was eighteen—she’d emptied her piggy bank and waited in line all night just to get them front row seats. And the scarf she’d knitted for him.

She remembered a freezing winter night when he took that scarf and wrapped it around Kristen’s neck instead.

Amelia hauled everything into the backyard. With one match, she set it all on fire.

“Ma’am, what are you burning?” Donna, her housekeeper, stopped and stared at the flames.

Amelia barely looked up. “Just some expired junk.”

Fifteen years of tangled memories—gone in a blaze.

Diana’s flight landed at five thirty, so Amelia timed her day around it and set up a three o’clock meeting with the real estate agent at Golden Bay Villas.

With the agent leading her, getting in was easy.

The agent barely stopped for breath, going on about how great the villas were. “Mrs. Salmeron, do you see anything you like?”

Amelia flipped through the brochures until she found a photo that caught her eye. “Number seventy-eight looks good. Can you show me that one?”

“Absolutely!” The agent beamed.

Amelia stared out the window, her eyes cold and sharp.

Number seventy-eight was right next to the one she really cared about: number seventy-nine.

The villas were about five hundred meters apart, with a strip of greenery between them. When the agent stepped away to take a call, Amelia slipped off, cut through the greenbelt, and walked straight to the door of seventy-nine.

Signs of life were everywhere—someone definitely lived there.

She was still watching when a silver luxury car pulled up. Amelia ducked behind the bushes.

The car stopped at the door. The driver got out and opened the back door.

“Mrs. Lin, we’re here.”

A woman stepped out—elegant, well-dressed, every inch a lady of wealth.

Amelia saw her face and clenched her hand around a leafy branch, thorns digging into her palm. She didn’t even feel it.

She couldn’t look away from the woman getting out of the car. A hatred she thought she’d buried came roaring back, fierce and raw.

That face—impossible to forget.

Bianca.

“You’re Norma’s daughter, aren’t you?” The hospital hallway had been deserted, the click of red heels echoing until the woman stopped in front of seven-year-old Amelia.

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