Chapter 232: Flashback – The Hunter’s Revelation

Author’s POV (23 Years Ago)

The following day, Meredith woke up with a mind boiling with questions. She decided to put an end to her doubt and find out if Morgan truly knew she hadn’t been the one there two nights ago. With a slightly trembling hand, she typed a short message: "Hi Morgan, can we meet today?"

She watched the screen breathlessly, her heart hammering with every passing second until the phone vibrated: "Come to the house."

Meredith surged out of bed as if struck by an electric current. She showered quickly and chose her outfit with surgical precision to captivate him.

She wore a short black skirt that accentuated her slender frame, paired with a bold red top and heavy makeup that defined her features.

She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, exposing her neck. She left the house feeling lighter than air, fluttering like a butterfly in her excitement to see him.

The taxi pulled up in front of Morgan’s luxury building. she stepped out and climbed the stairs with hurried strides. Standing before his door, she took a deep breath and knocked. Morgan opened it; he was handsome as ever, but his features carried a mysterious coldness.

"Good morning," he said flatly.

"Good morning," she replied with a broad smile, then added with a forced shyness, "May I come in?"

In that instant, a spark flashed in Morgan’s eyes. He noticed immediately that the "Violet" who had stormed his house last night and stripped him of his mobility had never asked for permission; she had acted as if she owned the place. He nodded slowly. "Yes, come in."

Meredith walked in and headed to the lounge, seating herself coquettishly on the sofa. Morgan sat beside her, but kept enough distance to observe every reaction. Meredith wanted to win the game, using the information Violet had slipped her the night before to prove she was the same girl.

"Last night was unforgettable," she said, fluttering her lashes softly. "I loved your surprise."

Morgan was caught off guard. What surprise? He felt a chill sweep over his chest where the wound carved by the real Violet resided. Yet, he maintained his mask of absolute calm. He leaned in slightly. "Tell me... what exactly did you like?"

"I loved the roses and the candles," Meredith replied confidently, thinking she held the winning cards. "Everything was magical."

At that moment, Morgan knew with absolute certainty: this girl was not Violet. The Violet who was here last night was a fierce tigress with a scalpel, not a girl swooning over candles. But he needed physical, undeniable proof. Suddenly, he feigned alarm, staring at her shoulder.

"Violet! There’s a bug on your shirt!"

Meredith shrieked, her body jerking in panic. Morgan clamped his hand firmly onto her wrist. "Stay still... don’t move," he commanded in a low, authoritative voice. "Turn around so I can see... it’s on the back of your neck."

Meredith turned on the sofa in fear, giving him her back entirely. Morgan reached out slowly, his heart thumping with anticipation. He brushed aside her ponytail with his other hand, exposing her clear, white neck. He found nothing. No small mole. None of the tiny details that had burned into his memory from the night before.

His features hardened. The staggering truth was now bare: Violet had a twin, and the one sitting before him was the fake. He gave her shirt a mock flick and stepped back, exhaling coldly. "It wasn’t a bug. Just my imagination."

Meredith let out a sigh of relief, turning back toward him with trembling features. "Oh... you scared me so much!"

While she struggled to regain her composure, Morgan’s head felt like it was about to explode with questions. If this was her twin, why did she pretend to be Violet? Why did she sleep with him that first night and ask for money? And who was the one who took her revenge last night and branded his chest?

Meredith broke his train of thought by touching his hand. "Morgan... are you with me?"

He looked up at her, his gray eyes sharper and more enigmatic than ever. "I just drifted off," he replied curtly. Then, watching her reaction closely, he added, "Violet, would you like to go out with me tonight?"

Meredith’s eyes gleamed with greed and delight. "Yes, absolutely!"

Morgan gave a cold, lopsided smile as he began to weave the threads of a plan in his mind. "Excellent. Be ready at eight. I’ll come pick you up from your house."

"Alright," she replied enthusiastically.

Meredith leaned in boldly, placing her hand on his thigh. She trailed her fingers seductively, whispering, "Didn’t you miss me?"

Morgan felt a surge of loathing crawl through his veins, as if her touch were contaminating his skin. He played along with a hollow voice. "Very much."

Her hand slid brazenly toward his dick. "I want you," she breathed.

In that instant, Morgan caught her wrist and pulled it away with stern finality. He stood up abruptly. "I have work to do now."

Meredith was flustered, her expression crumbling as she tried to process his sudden rejection. "Fine... I’ll go," she said, gathering her bag.

Before she could leave, Morgan grabbed her wrist again, squeezing slightly as he looked into her eyes with a terrifying depth. "Tonight, ’Violet’... will be a night to remember."

Meredith smiled, assuming he was promising a romantic night. "See you then."

She left, walking on air. Morgan stood in the middle of the lounge, sparks flying from his eyes. He was preparing a revenge worthy of the deception he had suffered. He was enraged that this girl, with her cheap performance, had cost him his chance with the real Violet.

Yet, despite everything Violet had done to him last night, the memory of her ferocity sent a strange thrill through his senses. How was it that every woman submitted to him, yet she alone had managed to make him submit to her? He loved her madness.

He loved how she took her revenge with such power.

He reached up and touched the wound that still throbbed in his chest, tracing his fingers over the bloody brand. "You wrote the word ’Blind’ on me, Violet," he whispered with defiant intensity. "And my love for you will be exactly like that word."

He stepped toward the large window, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. Suddenly, the image of the bracelet he had seen once flashed in his memory the one engraved with the name ’Meredith’. At that moment, the full truth clicked. He knew that the name of the fool who had just left was Meredith.

He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white, his voice a serpentine hiss. "Meredith... I will make you pay dearly for your deception."