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93. The Hidden Enemy
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-11-05 17:59:03
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THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 120. The Mercy
The cherry tree garden was bathed in the harsh, flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. The sirens had stopped, but the red and blue lights continued to pulse against the dark sky, casting long, dancing shadows on the white silk ribbons and the fallen petals. The paramedics were working quickly, stabilizing Celeste on a stretcher. She was barely conscious, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The blood on her white dress looked almost black in the artificial light.I stood a few feet away, watching them work. Adrian was beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back. My brothers were standing guard at the entrance of the garden, ensuring no press or curious onlookers could get through. Josh arrived a few minutes later. He was wearing his white coat over a dark suit. He walked straight to the stretcher, his grey eyes scanning the medical readouts."She is in acute organ failure," Josh said, his voice clinical. "The poison has ravaged her system. She needs to be moved t
THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 119. The Trap
The cherry tree garden was bathed in moonlight.The venue was completely empty. The chairs were stacked in neat rows. The white silk ribbons were tied to the branches, fluttering softly in the night breeze. The stage was set. The altar was waiting. It was supposed to be the most beautiful day of my life. Instead, it had become a graveyard.I walked through the iron gates. Adrian was right behind me, his hand resting on his weapon. Hector and Emmanuel flanked me, their faces carved from stone. We had left the security team outside. I needed to do this alone. I needed to face her without an army at my back.I walked down the stone path. The cherry blossoms were falling like snow. The air was cold. It smelled like spring and fresh earth and something else. Something metallic. The smell of blood.Celeste was standing in the middle of the aisle.She was not hiding. She was not running. She was just standing there. She was wearing a thin white dress that hung off her fragile frame. Her dark
THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 118. The Florist
The flower shop was called Petals and Poison. The irony was not lost on me.It was a small, charming boutique tucked away on a quiet street in Brooklyn. The windows were filled with beautiful arrangements of roses, lilies, and orchids. The sign on the door said Open. I pushed it open.A bell chimed. The shop smelled like damp earth and fresh flowers. It was warm. It was inviting. It was the perfect cover for a traitor.Sarah Jenkins was standing behind the counter. She was arranging a bouquet of white roses. She was in her late fifties, with kind eyes and a warm smile. She looked up when I walked in. Her smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it returned."Ms. Sterling," she said. Her voice was pleasant. "What a lovely surprise. I thought we were meeting tomorrow to finalize the centerpieces."I walked toward the counter. I did not smile. I did not pretend. I looked at her the way I looked at an enemy."You have been meeting with Celeste," I said.Sarah's hands froze. The white rose
THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 117. The Hidden Threat
The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.I was sitting in the study, the heavy cream envelope resting on the mahogany desk in front of me. The elegant handwriting of Elias Sterling seemed to mock me. I will be watching. The words echoed in my head like a gunshot. I had spent the last two hours staring at it, trying to figure out my next move. I had told Adrian I was going to bed early, claiming a migraine. It was a lie. I did not want him to see the fear in my eyes.I could not let him worry. He had spent months worrying about me. He had sold his family estate, faced down kidnappers, and stood by my side through a media circus. He deserved a peaceful wedding. He deserved a normal life. But normal was a luxury that I had never been able to afford.I picked up my phone and dialed Hector. He answered on the second ring."I need you in my study," I said. "Right now. And come alone."Ten minutes later, Hector walked through the door. He was wearing a dark sweater and jeans. He looked like he ha
THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 116. The Wedding Plans
The penthouse living room looked like a floral shop had exploded inside it.There were swatches of silk in every shade of white and cream. There were binders filled with photographs of centerpieces, seating charts, and cake designs. There were three different wedding planners, all talking over each other in a symphony of frantic professionalism. I was sitting in the middle of the chaos, clutching a cup of tea that had gone cold an hour ago."Mrs. Sterling," the head planner said, her voice bright and manic. "We have a problem with the cherry blossom trees. The garden at the estate is not in full bloom yet. We could force them, but it would cost a small fortune."I felt a spike of panic. "Force them. Do whatever you have to do. I want the cherry blossoms.""Mom," Chloe said. She was sitting on the arm of the sofa, her feet tucked up beneath her. "You are worse than a bridezilla."I looked at her. She was laughing. She was wearing a pair of my sweatpants and a t-shirt that said 'I am th
THE DYING WIFE'S REVENGE 115. The Mother's Confession
The Sterling manor was cold.It was always cold. It was a mausoleum of old money and ancient secrets. I walked through the grand foyer, my heels clicking against the marble floor. Adrian was right behind me, his presence a solid, comforting wall of heat. I did not stop to admire the art or the flowers. I walked straight to the sunroom at the back of the house.My mother was sitting in her wicker chair by the window. She was wrapped in a thick grey shawl. She looked smaller than I remembered. She looked older. She looked terrified. She had known I was coming. The phone call had been brief, but the tone of my voice had been unmistakable. I walked into the room. I did not sit down. I stood in front of her, holding the photograph and the letter in my hand. "You lied to me," I said. My voice was cold.My mother looked at the papers in my hand. She did not ask what they were. She knew. She had been waiting for this moment for twenty-seven years."I know," she whispered. A tear slipped dow
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