All Chapters of Luna's Perfect Revenge: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Rain fell again the following night. Droplets clung to the hospital window, creating a soft, almost soothing rustling sound.The hallway lights were dim and most visitors had gone home. Only a few nurses walked slowly through the corridor, pushing medication carts in the quiet.Inside the treatment room, the atmosphere was shrouded in a thin veil of haze. The monitor's glow reflected faintly across Estelle’s face. Her eyes were tired, but she couldn’t bring herself to close them. She watched Roland relentlessly, as if afraid that if she looked away, he would slip away from her again.Kiara had fallen asleep in the waiting room while Gloria remained awake, arms crossed, murmuring prayers under her breath. Lennon sat on the sofa, unnervingly calm—almost too calm. He had just closed his laptop and leaned back, his posture perfectly controlled.Estelle drew in a slow breath, trying to steady herself. “He's doing better,” she whispered, half to convince herself. “Look, his heartbeat is nor

The ride home felt like a slow-moving nightmare. The dusky sky draped the city in dull, heavy grey, and the remnants of rain reflected the blurred glow of streetlights.Estelle sat in the back seat. She shivered beneath an endless grief. Hugging her arms close to her body, she tried to endure the cold that had seeped into her bones.Lennon sat beside her, continuing to play the part of a loving husband. From time to time, he patted her on the shoulder. At other moments, he spoke softly. “You need to rest, Estelle.”But Estelle heard none of it. His voice felt distant, like a muffled echo from far away that was unable to reach her ears.Her mind replayed the events at the hospital over and over again. Each moment was painfully vivid, dragging her deeper into despair: Roland’s faltering breaths, the erratic beeping of the monitor, the coldness of his hand when she held it, and that lifeless stare that made her knees give way.The en

A few minutes later, Wade left the Montague residence, deliberately choosing not to stay too long so they could enjoy some peace and quiet. Hiram closed the door carefully, ensuring the stillness of the house remained undisturbed. Silence settled again, seeping into every corner and draping itself over the entire household—a silence so dense that it felt as though it were clinging to the skin.Estelle stood still in the living room for a moment after Wade left. There was a long pause between her breaths, which were neither steady nor frantic. She lowered her head slightly and pressed her fingertips to her temple, trying to calm the subtle throbbing that was bothering her more and more.But calm never truly came. Worse still, Roland’s voice kept playing in her mind on an endless loop.“No, Alpha. Please—don’t hurt Estelle.”Each time that sentence echoed in her mind, something inside Estelle tightened and heated

Flashback.Estelle’s consciousness returned gradually, as if she were rising to the surface after being submerged for far too long. Her body felt heavy, aching and cold. Pain stabbed her in multiple places: her abdomen, chest, legs and even her head.Estelle let out a faint groan. Her eyelids fluttered open.The stark white hospital lights were blinding. The steady beeping of a monitor echoed quietly through the room. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air.For a moment, Estelle’s mind was blank. Her awareness ebbed and flowed like a wavering tide—weak, disoriented and unsure of where she was. But then a sharp jolt of pain shot through her right thigh, bringing back memories—darkness on an empty road, the violent crash of her car, wolves snarling, and the crushing impact that hit her body.I was attacked, Estelle thought, a chill creeping down her neck. But who were they? Why were they targeting

Electronic audio from the main stage echoed through the vast hall. The spotlights were being tested one by one and animated graphics were displayed on the thirty-metre international LED screen. Meanwhile, the foreign technical team was running sound-sync trials for the main event of the International Media Convergence Summit 2032—a massive production that Wade held only once every two years.Wade stood in the middle of the room wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up slightly. With a tablet in hand, he reviewed the programme sequence, assessed the lighting layout and gave brief instructions to the nearby producers as required.“The transition for the second panel is too fast,” said Wade, brushing his jaw. “Realign it with the opening graphic.”A producer responded immediately. “Yes, Mr Wade.”The room was buzzing with multiple languages overlapping, the hum of rigging machines, crew members calling instru