My Beloved Has Risen from Death’s Embrace

“Ugh Xanthea sighed as she observed Isabella’s exasperated demeanor, reminiscent of their past.

Both had attended the same high school, but their paths rarely crossed until a school dance competition placed them in direct rivalry. Xanthea had clinched the first prize, leaving Isabella with second place. That sparked a relentless imitation spree from Isabella.

Whatever Xanthea did, Isabella did too. If Xanthea joined the honors program, Isabella would switch to the honors as well. If Xanthea ran for student council

so would Isabella. Xanthea chose science? Isabella did the same. Then came the singing contests, advanced placement, and even topping the class–Isabella stopped at nothing, hiring a slew of tutors and sinking a fortune into extra lessons!

Eventually, Isabella even started mimicking Xanthea’s style of dress, her way of speaking, and her personal likes, to the extent that their classmates joked about them being a couple, much to Xanthea’s annoyance.

Whenever they met, Xanthea would scornfully call her a “copycat,” but Isabella never ceased her mimicry. It wasn’t until after the SATS, when Xanthea scored the top citywide and got into Crestwood Hall Academy, that she finally managed to shake Isabella off her trail.

What puzzled Xanthea was why Isabella, a childhood star with countless fans from her movie days, would ever feel compelled to imitate a relatively unknown like her. The one thing Isabella never copied, though, was Xanthea’s crush on Matthew.

Back in her previous life, Matthew was Xanthea’s world. So when Isabella replicated every other aspect of her life, Xanthea confronted her furiously, asking if she was going to claim Matthew too.

Isabella had scoffed, claiming she would never stoop so low, which, admittedly, was the one area where Isabella’s taste proved superior. “Rumor has it you’re about to get engaged?”

“Word travels fast, huh?”

Xanthea was puzzled at how Isabella, even after years apart, seemed to know her every move. Was she still observing and imitating her from afar?

Isabella crossed her arms and chuckled sarcastically, as if watching a fool walk into a trap.

“What’s so funny?”

“I find it hilarious that after all these years, your taste is still as poor as ever,” Isabella taunted.

Xanthea bit her tony

he couldn’t refute that comment.

Isabella mistook her silence for indifference, which infuriated her even more. She swallowed the rest of her intended barbs, thinking vengefully, “Just you wait, Xanthea. You’ll regret this.” This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Suddenly, the dressing room door was kicked open with a loud bang, startling everyone. They turned to see Judy, the diva known for her tantrums, standing furiously at the entrance, flanked by two stagehands trying desperately to calm her.

The role has been decided. Director Hawthorne himself made the call. There’s no use causing a scene,” they pleaded.

“Let go of me! I want to see who dares to steal my spot!”

Isabella, spotting Judy’s rage, gleefully said to Xanthea, “She’s here for you.”

Judy, notorious in the industry for her bratty behavior and powerful sponsors, usually had everyone cowering. But now, she was outmatched by Xanthea’s snagging the coveted role.

As Judy saw the card on Xanthea’s makeup table, she burst into the room, her eyes burning with envy at the sight of Xanthea’s stunning reflection in the mirror.