All Chapters of The Wealthy Divorcee: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The world shrank to the spinning blade of the spear.Jenna saw nothing else—no fire, no jungle, no survivors—only the jagged tip slicing toward her heart.Her breath stopped. Her pulse stuttered. Her legs refused to move.Everything inside her screamed, "Move, Jenna—move!" but terror locked her joints tighter than ropes ever could.The spear cut through the firelight——and then a force slammed into her side.Impact. Pain detonated across her ribs. The world pitched sideways as she crashed into the sand, Tiara slipping from her grip with a mechanical cry.A shadow had tackled her. Steeve.The spear whistled past her ear. So close she felt the wind of it.It buried itself in the sand where her chest had been. A heartbeat slower—and she would have been dead.Jenna gasped, dragging air into her lungs. Her ribs flared with sharp agony. She tried to stand——but the jungle erupted.They came like a wave.Dozens of warriors burst from the treeline with bone-tipped spears, obsidian knives, and

Chapter 143 – Ritual PreparationThe moment the chieftain’s bone staff singled Jenna out, the atmosphere in the village shifted—like the jungle itself leaned closer to listen. The chanting died down into excited whispers, then rose again in feverish waves. Warriors pounded their chests. Women began preparing fires, dragging out carved stone bowls, ropes, and baskets woven from sinew.The ritual was beginning.Jenna forced her back straight, though pain pulsed through her ribs with every breath. Her wrists throbbed where the restraints had rubbed skin raw. But she refused to shrink back from the bars.Fear would not keep her alive.Her mind would.

The ropes bit into Jenna’s wrists as the warriors dragged her across the dirt, the ritual ash still burning on her skin. The storm overhead thickened, clouds rumbling like distant war drums. She barely kept her footing as they tied her to one of the wooden posts lining the sacrificial grounds—thick beams made of weathered trunks, stained with old, dark streaks she didn’t want to identify.Steeve was bound to the post on her right, trembling uncontrollably. Lucia and the two remaining male survivors were tied to the others, forming a crooked semicircle facing the massive bonfire at the center of the village. The flames raged high, spitting sparks that drifted like fireflies.The tribe bustled around them, preparing for the night’s ritual. Warriors sharpened obsidian blades against stones. Torches were planted in a wide ring, crea

The spear flew.Lightning illuminated its arc—white, sharp, inevitable.Jenna didn’t have time to scream.David tackled her sideways. The spear tore through the space where her throat had been just a heartbeat earlier, burying itself deep into a tree trunk with a brutal thunk.Jenna hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs. Mud splashed around them, the taste of soil hitting her tongue. Steeve stumbled beside her, crashing to his knees.Behind them, the Bone King roared—angry, wounded pride echoing like thunder.

David’s confession, the shadow at the ravine’s mouth, the realization that the Bone King was not the island’s only nightmare. Jenna’s pulse had not slowed once since leaving the shelter. Even Steeve’s breath trembled in uneven bursts. Their bodies moved because David said to move, but their minds were still trapped in the horrors of the night before. And as dawn strained weakly through the canopy, it became horribly clear: the deeper they followed David, the deeper they stepped into an island that wanted them dead.Dawn had not yet touched the island, but the jungle had begun to stir—soft rustling, distant calls, the whisper of creatures waking beneath the dripping canopy. The air was thick and damp, clinging to skin like an unseen hand. As David motioned for Jenna and Steeve to follow him north, the unease in their chests only deepened.