The Real Heiress Rules the World (Sloane Rivers) novel Chapter 391

Chapter 391 Who’s The Real Lunatic

Chapter 391 Who’s The Real Lunatic

After the two attendants finished bathing Sloane, they left the room.

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A short while later, the door opened again. A woman in a red dress stepped inside, moving slowly; her silver mask caught the candlelight, glinting with a cold sheen.

Her chilled fingertips brushed against Sloane’s cheek, tracing across her skin inch by inch as if inspecting its smoothness. Her gaze grew dazed with obsession, then suddenly turned icy.

“Too much alike…” she murmured, almost entranced. “Even the texture of your skin feels identical…”

Sloane caught the keywords immediately, but her expression didn’t change.

“Tony’s going to love this…” The woman broke into sudden laughter, her voice tinged with manic anticipation. “What was it he used to call Beth? Soft skin? Hah… soon, that’ll be mine…”

Sloane glared at her, keeping her composure but snapping coldly, “What exactly are you trying to do?”

The woman only smiled back, her grin eerie and grotesque. She leaned down, her crimson lips nearly brushing Sloane’s earlobe. “I’m going to have Samantha’s face remade into yours… and she’ll take over everything that belongs to you.”

Her fingertip grazed Sloane’s trembling lashes. “The man you love is Lucas, isn’t he? I’ll have someone stage a little play… send Samantha back to him, let her stand in for you and marry him instead…”

Sloane’s pupils contracted sharply; her face went bloodless. She gripped the edge of the tub with all her strength, her knuckles blanching. “You… you lunatic!”

“Yes, that’s it…” The woman’s voice quivered with excitement, her eyes glittering with madness beneath the mask. “A little more fear… a little more despair…” She suddenly clamped her hand around Sloane’s chin. “When the surgery succeeds, I’ll make you watch as Samantha, wearing your face… climbs into Lucas’ bed.”

Sloane’s entire body shook; tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. The woman straightened with satisfaction, her heels tapping a lively rhythm against the tiles.

The moment the door shut behind her, every trace of fear vanished from Sloane’s face; her tears stopped as if cut off,

She slowly lifted her head, her eyes swirling with cold calculation.

The next day, Sloane was taken to a brightly lit treatment room. The woman was there too, ordering her to lie down. She personally spread a layer of pale green ointment across Sloane’s skin; the acrid scent was sharp, like herbs mingled with the metallic tang of blood.

“Don’t move.” Her nails dragged across Sloane’s collarbone. “This is an ancient formula I brought back from overseas-it’s meant to nourish the skin.”

Sloane feigned weakness; when the woman turned away, she quickly slipped a needle out of sight.

When the treatment ended, she was escorted back to her room.

The milk bath waiting for her was hotter than usual; fresh petals floated on the surface. Immersed in the

1721

7:15 pm P P P P

Chapter 391 Who’s The Real Lunatic

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