Semua Bab Reborn as the Wife He Killed: Bab 331 - Bab 340

The night was deep and hushed.The corridors of the hospital lay empty, echoing only with the faint, rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the low whisper of wind seeping through the cracks of the window frame. When Alia pushed open the door to the ward, the sharp scent of disinfectant still hung heavily in the air.Elias sat by the window, his posture tense, head snapping up at the sound. Across from him, Marcellus reclined half-upright on the hospital bed. His complexion had regained a trace of color, yet his gaze remained calm, authoritative—unyielding, as always.Both men rose almost at the same instant.When they saw Alia standing safely in the doorway, Elias’s shoulders eased, the rigid line of tension finally loosening. Even Marcellus released a faint breath of relief.“You’re back,” he said. His voice was steady, composed—but beneath that surface calm, a ripple of emotion betrayed itself.“I’m fine,” Alia replied curtly. Her tone was level, yet there was a fleeting shadow in he

Alia’s fingers trembled as she looked at the cup of blood.The crimson liquid still slid slowly down the inner wall, leaving behind a dark, glistening trace—a mark of sacrifice that could never be taken back.She drew in a deep breath, forcing the tremor in her chest to still, then reached for the glass tube beside her.Her movements were cautious, reverent almost, as if she were handling something sacred rather than a man’s blood.The thick red stream flowed into the test tube with a muted sound, faint yet heavy with meaning.“I hope Livia can see what you’ve done,” Alia murmured. Her voice wavered, tight with emotion, though her tone remained calm.“No matter what happens… I hope this all ends well.”She sealed the tube, pressing the cap into place.The soft click echoed faintly in the quiet room—and in that sound, it felt as though she had sealed away not only Marcellus’s blood,but their fate,their gamble against destiny itself.Elias stood beside them, his expression dark, sha

At last, Alia could no longer restrain herself.Overwhelmed by the tide of emotions that had been building within her, she threw herself into Marcellus’s arms.For a brief, fleeting instant, the air between them ceased to exist—the sound of the monitor faded, the sterile scent of the ward dissolved—there was only the rhythm of her heartbeat, desperate and uneven, thundering between them.Marcellus’s eyes softened, just slightly—so faintly it could have been imagined.He had seen her strong, cold, unflinching in the face of pain, yet in that moment her movements carried a kind of fragile urgency.When her fingertips brushed across his cheek, the warmth of her skin seared through him—a warmth that spoke of fear, of longing, of every unsaid word she had buried beneath her calm.It lasted no more than a breath, yet it felt like the world had paused for it.Then, she slowly straightened, trying to steady her breathing, her lips trembling as she forced out the words:“Wait for me. I know

The night was deep and heavy, the cold wind carrying shreds of mist and the fractured glow of streetlights.Alia stopped at the edge of the abandoned warehouse, her breath forming a faint wisp in the frigid air.This was the place—the one Jim had chosen.The scent of rust and damp concrete filled her lungs, sharp and metallic, like the aftertaste of blood. Every step she took toward that door made her pulse tighten. The faint creak of the old hinges echoed in the darkness as she pushed the half-open iron door.Inside, the light was dim and unsteady. A few yellowed bulbs flickered overhead, casting long, trembling shadows across the floor.At the far end, near a cracked window, Jim sat slouched at a metal table. His fingers tapped lazily against the surface—a slow, deliberate rhythm.When he heard her footsteps, he lifted his head. A faint smirk curved across his lips, casual yet cutting.“You came. So—how did it go?”His voice carried that familiar tone of mockery, careless and self-a

The moment his words fell, the tension in the air grew almost tangible—like a wire stretched to the point of breaking, vibrating under invisible pressure. Every breath, every flicker of movement seemed enough to shatter the fragile balance.Overhead, the dim yellow ceiling light trembled ever so slightly, its filament buzzing in protest. The glow it cast was uneven, rippling across the warehouse floor in restless waves. Two shadows stretched and tangled within that shifting light—one long, one short; one rooted in stillness, the other poised for motion. They crossed and broke upon the cracked concrete like a silent duel of presence and will.Jim stood half-veiled in darkness, his black trench coat absorbing the light. The edges of his form blurred with the shadows, yet the faint glint at his wrist—a watch, a metal buckle, or perhaps something sharper—caught the eye like a warning. His posture was deceptively relaxed, shoulders slouched, one hand buried in his pocket, but beneath that