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100. The Midnight Conversation

Autor: Jaziel
last update Fecha de publicación: 2026-11-05 18:02:04

The library was a cathedral of shadows.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting long, dancing shapes across the spines of the leather bound books. The air was cold, smelling of old paper and the faint, lingering scent of Alistair’s expensive scotch. I stood in the doorway, my silk robe wrapped tightly around me. I had not been able to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photographs on the walls. I saw the contract. I saw the cold, calculating eyes of a man who had ruined
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  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   100. The Midnight Conversation

    The library was a cathedral of shadows. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting long, dancing shapes across the spines of the leather bound books. The air was cold, smelling of old paper and the faint, lingering scent of Alistair’s expensive scotch. I stood in the doorway, my silk robe wrapped tightly around me. I had not been able to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photographs on the walls. I saw the contract. I saw the cold, calculating eyes of a man who had ruined my life.I walked into the room. My bare feet made no sound on the thick Persian rug. Alistair was sitting in his leather armchair by the hearth. He was holding a thick, leather bound book in his lap, but he was not reading it. He was staring into the dying fire. He did not turn around when I entered. "I knew you would come," he said. His voice was quiet, lacking its usual mocking edge. I stopped a few feet away from his chair. I crossed my arms over my chest, a defensive gesture. "I am not

  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   99. The Uncle's Offer

    The estate was a maze of dark corridors and cold stone. After the confrontation in the garden, I had retreated to the guest wing with Adrian, but I could not sleep. The revelation about the betrothal contract, the looming threat of Elias Sterling, and the suffocating presence of Alistair in his gothic fortress were keeping my mind racing.I left Adrian sleeping in the massive four-poster bed and slipped out into the hallway. I was wearing a silk robe over my nightgown. The fire in the library was still burning, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.I walked down the grand staircase, my bare feet silent on the stone steps. I needed a glass of water. I needed a moment of silence.But I was not alone.Alistair was sitting in a leather armchair by the fire. He was still wearing his tailored suit, though he had removed his jacket. He was holding a crystal decanter of amber liquid. He did not look surprised to see me. He looked like he had been waiting."Trouble sleeping, Little Pearl

  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   98. The Promise

    I needed air.The library felt like a tomb. The walls were closing in, suffocating me with the weight of the past. The photographs of my life, stolen and curated by a madman, seemed to mock me. The scent of old books and expensive scotch was suddenly nauseating. I pushed past Emmanuel, who tried to grab my arm, and I walked out of the room.I walked through the grand foyer, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the marble floor. I threw open the heavy oak doors and stepped out onto the stone terrace. The freezing Swiss wind hit my face like a physical blow, but I welcomed it. I needed the cold. I needed to feel something other than the suffocating rage.The garden was a vast expanse of white snow and manicured hedges, illuminated by the pale moonlight. The mountains loomed in the distance, silent and indifferent. I walked down the stone steps, hugging my arms around myself. I stopped by a frozen fountain, staring at the ice.I heard the crunch of snow behind me. I did not need to

  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   97. The Collector

    The file in my hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I stared at the photograph of Elias Sterling. The man who built the empire. The man who was supposed to be dead. The man who had apparently orchestrated the abduction of his own granddaughter. My mind was racing, trying to piece together the tangled web of lies that had ensnared my family for three generations. "You are lying," I said. My voice was hollow. I looked up at Alistair. He was standing by the fireplace, swirling his scotch, looking like a king in his castle. "Elias is dead. He died of a heart attack twenty years ago."Alistair chuckled. It was a dry, rasping sound. "Elias did not die. He simply stepped back. He let the world believe he was gone so he could pull the strings from the shadows. He is the one who convinced your father not to pay the ransom. He is the one who ordered the hit on Marcus Vaughn. He is the one who has been funding the destruction of the Sterling and Vance families."I threw the file on th

  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   96. The Swiss Estate

    The Sterling private jet touched down on the runway in Geneva just as the sun was setting. The sky was a cold, bruised purple, bleeding into the snow-capped peaks of the Alps. The air outside was biting, a sharp contrast to the pressurized warmth of the cabin.I stood at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a thick black cashmere coat. Adrian was right behind me, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back. Behind him stood my brothers. Emmanuel, Josh, and Hector. They were all dressed in dark suits, their faces carved from stone. We were not here as tourists. We were here as an invading force.A fleet of black SUVs waited on the tarmac. Six armed guards in dark suits stood at attention beside them. Emmanuel had not taken any chances. He had brought a small army.We climbed into the vehicles and began the long drive into the mountains. The roads were winding and treacherous, carved into the side of the cliffs. The higher we climbed, the colder it got. The pine trees were heavy

  • THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE   95. The Hidden Patriarch

    I stepped out of the cottage and into the freezing night air. The rain had stopped, but the wind was howling through the pine trees, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay. I walked down the gravel path until I was out of earshot of the house. I pulled out my phone and dialed Emmanuel's number again. He answered on the first ring. "Zara," Emmanuel said. His voice was tight. "I have been thinking. We need to move carefully. If Alistair is really alive, we cannot just storm his estate. He will see us coming.""Emmanuel," I said. My voice was completely flat. "Stop talking."There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line."What did you just say to me?" Emmanuel asked. His voice was dangerously quiet."I said stop talking," I repeated. I looked up at the dark sky. "I spoke to Elena Vaughn. She told me everything. She told me about the kidnapping. She told me about the third partner. She told me that Alistair is the one who orchestrated all of it.""I know," Emmanuel said.The

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