บททั้งหมดของ Kidnapping the Mayor’s Daughter: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Darla’s eyes opened to a new environment. It took her a minute to confirm that it was a hospital. The doctor in front of her opened and the doctor walked in, his face full of pity as he stared at her. Dread formed on her face as she embraced her heart for the worse. “Did anything happen to my baby?” Her voice barely escaped. The doctor hesitated, his gaze lowering for a moment before he spoke. “I’m sorry, miss… but you lost the baby.” The words slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs. Her heart clenched, the ache expanding, suffocating. A strangled sob tore through her as tears trickled down her cheeks. It hurt her to know that a child that she could have loved dearly was already gone before she could show thy child the world. Maybe it was for the best, probably the world’s was of telling her that she wasn’t ready. Just as the thoughts rumbled in her head, another thought caught her attention. Ethan.He was in the wreckage with her, what happened to him?“What about

It has been four years.Four years since Darla left. Since she walked away from everything she once knew, boarded that plane with nothing but heartbreak, regret, and a horrible past.Now, she was back.The moment she stepped off the plane, she felt the familiar uneasiness. The chill stung against her skin, but she welcomed it. She slowly took deep breaths.Darla never thought she would return. Not after everything. Not after the way she left.But she had to.There were things she had left behind. Loose ends that needed tying. Ghosts that refused to rest. And now, she was finally ready to face them.People often warned that revenge was dangerous—a poison that consumed its wielder just as much as its target. They spoke of it as if it was something to be feared, something to resist.But what they never told you—what no one ever admitted—was how intoxicating it was.The thrill.The satisfaction of watching everything unfold exactly as planned.For four years, Darla had watched. Waited. Ke

Revenge is a slow burn—a fire that starts deep in your gut and spreads until it consumes everything in its path.People warn against it, say it will rot you from the inside out.But they never talk about the rush.The satisfaction.The raw power of watching the people who wronged you crumble under the weight of their own sins.Darla never knew how intoxicating it could be—until tonight.She had seen the way their expressions twisted—first shock, then anger, then finally settling into pure hatred.At least, hers did.Esther.God, she hated Darla.It was written all over her perfectly painted face, hidden beneath layers of artificial charm. The way she clutched Roy’s arm, fingers digging into his sleeve as if Darla were a ghost who had returned to haunt her.And maybe she had.Maybe she wanted to be.She couldn’t stand Esther.Not just because she had married Darla’s fiancé, but because she had stolen the life Darla was supposed to have. The love. The family she had envisioned.Esther h

Ethan’s knuckles had turned red the moment he stepped out of the car, his fingers clenched so tightly that the veins beneath his skin protruded like strained cables. He flexed his hand absently, a futile attempt to shake off the tension that seemed embedded too deep to dislodge. The car ride had been mortifying, the low hum of conversation between John and Carlo barely registering. Their voices melded into the background—mere noise compared to the chaos raging inside his head.Darla.She had been right there. Right in front of him. And yet, the instant their eyes met, she had turned and fled. As if he were something to be avoided. As if he were nothing.How many times was she going to keep running from him?A sharp exhale left him, his jaw tightening with barely restrained frustration. He could never forget that face—those eyes, the way her lips parted in that fleeting second before she bolted like a coward. His chest burned with something raw and unnameable.Anger?Frustration?Pain?

Esther’s eyes flicked to the clock on her office wall for the fifth time in as many minutes. Each tick seemed to echo louder than the last, pounding in her ears like a cruel reminder. It was past seven in the evening, the sky outside her floor-to-ceiling windows a dull gray, streaked with the last traces of daylight. Her phone lay face-up on her desk, dark and silent despite the dozen missed calls she had made.She drew in a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus on the financial reports open on her monitor, but the numbers blurred together, meaningless. The cursor blinked accusingly, a taunt to her futile attempts at distraction. Her manicured fingers drummed nervously against the mahogany desk, a tremor betraying her otherwise composed exterior.Two hours.For two hours, she had been calling Roy.And for two hours, he had not picked up. Not once.Her chest tightened painfully, a dull ache settling beneath her ribs. The same ache that had been festering since that night—since Darla h