All Chapters of Reborn as the Wife He Killed: Chapter 351 - Chapter 360

“I think… it’s time.”Marcellus turned the phone in his hand, his fingertips pressing down, trapping the faint glow of the message in his palm. “I’m convinced this came from one of the other factions. They’ve realized the fragments are converging. It’s likely a trap—but we’re at an impasse, and there’s no better move left.” His tone was steady, but beneath that calm lay a grim, cornered resolve.Alia’s eyes tightened as she listened. She folded her arms across her chest, as though shielding something fragile within. “You’re right. Before, I might’ve thought—if the Grail is destroyed, then so be it. But now things are different. If we want to bring Livia back, we need it. Still, we can’t just walk into their sights like fools.”Her voice carried both edge and clarity—a blade sharpened by reason, one that could cut through both fear and doubt.Elias stood by the window, his knuckles pale under the lamplight. “And that message,” he added quietly, “means they know how far we’ve come. They

In another hidden corner of the world, the night hung low and heavy—like a shroud that breathed.A single lamp flickered in the room, casting a wavering, amber glow across an ancient desk. A twisted shadow stretched long upon its surface, while a man sat still before it, silent as stone.On the desk, the interface of a message remained open.The words—an anonymous invitation sent to all factions—still glimmered coldly across the screen.He stared at the lines for a long time, unmoving. His fingers trembled faintly on the table—a fragile, conflicted tremor, hovering between release and guilt. Finally, a low laugh slipped past his lips, hoarse and hollow, tinged with both madness and despair.“So… it’s come to this.”The corners of his mouth curved upward in a faint, bitter smile—mockery of himself, or perhaps of fate. But that smile broke quickly. He raised his head, eyes tracing beyond the window where the darkness pressed thickly against the glass. Far away, moonlight wandered throug

Alia’s voice was low and steady, but her fingertips had already tightened unconsciously.That silhouette—she didn’t need to see his face to recognize it.As the boat drew nearer, the lantern light revealed the sharp lines of a familiar visage—Eryx.He was clad entirely in black, his long coat rippling in the night wind. His hair, loosened by the sea breeze, framed his face in slight disarray, yet none of it diminished the austere, almost sacred coldness that emanated from him. In his hand he held a long staff, the metal ring at its tip trembling faintly, producing a subtle chime of metal against metal. It was no mere ornament—it was the mark of his authority, the emblem of the power he now wielded.His eyes fell upon the two waiting at the shore—deep, unwavering, as though he were gazing not at people, but at the intersection of fates.The boat bumped softly against the stones at the water’s edge with a muted thud.Eryx stepped onto land, his boots crunching against the slick gravel.

The night was thick as ink, the fog growing heavier by the minute. The air on the island had turned dense and frigid, as though a cold curtain had settled over every inch of ground. Wind swept across the water, carrying an eerie undertone—like a low, distant moan foretelling something ominous.Alia, Marcellus, and Eryx stood where they were, none of them moving first. The island was dead silent; even the waves seemed to hold their breath.The air pulsed with a restrained yet lethal tension—as if several bows had been drawn tight, each waiting for the other to release.Suddenly, the wooden door of the house creaked open with a long, sharp squeak.The sound sliced through the stillness like a blade. A faint light spilled from within, and a figure slowly stepped out.It was an elderly gentleman, his hair silver-white, dressed immaculately in a charcoal-gray suit. His collar was crisp, his posture upright, and a black ebony cane rested in his gloved hand. The lamplight cast fractured shad

“I don’t know what happened between you,” Alia said, her voice cold and steady, carrying a faint tremor she tried to suppress. “Nor do I know why we’re here. I only know this—my husband is hurt, and I need to take care of him.”She paused, then lifted her gaze toward Edgar. Her tone softened, but the words pricked like fine needles—calm on the surface, edged with quiet defiance.“I didn’t expect to see you here… Father.”The air froze.Firelight flickered in her eyes, unable to hide that glint of steel. She was lying—she knew exactly why she had come, knew that everything before her had long been nudged toward this moment by some unseen hand of fate. Yet she still wore that mask of innocence, using composure to drown the storm within.She didn’t know why—perhaps it was because of that fragment, or the strange gravity it carried—but she could feel Livia’s emotions pulsing through her: that torn sense of loyalty, that chaotic love, that impossible distance between daughter and father.F