Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 428

In this life, Claire had always gone out of her way to avoid him, but today was the first time she and Vincent faced off head-to-head.

“I’m talking to you! What, cat got your tongue? Hurry up and bring me my basketball, now.” Vincent barked the order at Claire, bossy and scowling.

Staring at his smug, unpleasant face, Claire was suddenly struck by how blind she’d been in her last life. How had she ever ended up friends with Vincent during those fifteen long years in the orphanage?

Now that the rose-tinted glasses were off, it was clear—there was nothing likable about him.

Claire picked herself up off the ground, grabbed the basketball, and walked toward Vincent, step by steady step.

Vincent tilted up his chin, gloating. “See? I told you. She’s nothing but a bookworm. Useless outside of class.”

“What’s the point of being smart if you still have to listen to me?”

“See how obedient she is?”

Claire stopped in front of him—and with zero hesitation, hurled the basketball straight into Vincent’s face.

“Aaah!” Vincent shrieked, clutching his nose as he crumpled to the ground, blood trickling between his fingers and splattering onto the floor.

Little Claire stood over him, her face utterly devoid of emotion.

Without a word, she kicked him over, then landed two solid blows to his stomach.

She’d wanted to do this for ages.

In her previous life, she’d dreamed of knocking Vincent down a peg or two. But back then she’d been crippled, half-deaf, missing a kidney—her body was so frail she was always the one getting hurt.

This time around, even though she was only five, Claire was strong and healthy. She was obedient, studious, and the matron doted on her, making sure she had better food and clothes than any of the other kids.

So now, her skin was fair and clean, her hands soft and plump like little dinner rolls, and her arms and legs chubby but sturdy—perfect for dishing out a beating. Taking down Vincent was child’s play.

She remembered them so clearly because, in her last life, they had planned to adopt her.

But at the time, she’d refused. She hadn’t wanted to be separated from Vincent.

To stay with him, she turned down the chance at a new family.

Thinking back on it now, Claire wanted to slap herself.

If she’d let herself be adopted back then, maybe none of the tragedies that followed would have happened.

She stared at the couple, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, Vincent—still sniffling and wiping his bloody nose—scrambled to his feet and pointed at Claire, trying to play the victim. “Headmistress, she hit me with the basketball! And she kicked me, too!”