The Mistress의 모든 챕터: 챕터 31 - 챕터 40

R18The heavy steel door of Room 402 was thrown open, but it wasn’t the silent nurse, Elena, who stood there. It was a sea of suits and the unmistakable, towering presence of Zander.I was slumped in the velvet chair, my eyes glazed, still playing the role of the sedated victim. But as Zander’s gaze met mine, I saw the mask of the “Dark Alpha” crumble for a split second, replaced by a raw, agonizing relief.“Get her out of here,” Zander commanded, his voice a low vibration that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.As the orderlies moved to lift me, Zander’s eyes drifted to the corner of the room—to the baseboard where I had spent nights scratching into the expensive wallpaper. He froze. I watched him track the lines, the inverted spirals, and the specific, jagged silhouette of the oak tree.His breath hitched. Hidden within the manic cross-hatching was the “Villaruel” symbol—my maiden name’s crest, a secret we had shared in the college studio years ago. It was the proof he

The courtroom felt like a cathedral of judgment, all dark wood and high ceilings that swallowed the sound of my breathing. I sat at the petitioner’s table, my hands folded perfectly, my spine a rigid line of defiance. Beside me, Sophie was a fortress of legal documents, her eyes scanning the room with the precision of a hawk.Across the aisle, Daniel sat with his legal team—a phalanx of the most expensive litigators the Blackwood name could buy. He wasn’t the man who had dragged me into an SUV or the man who had recorded my son’s cries. He was a portrait of a grieving, betrayed husband. He wore a navy suit that made him look approachable, and his hair was just slightly unkempt, as if he had been too busy caring for a motherless child to notice his own appearance.“Your Honor,” Daniel’s lead attorney began, his voice echoing with practiced gravitas. “This is a tragic case of a family torn apart by instability. My client, Daniel Sy-Blackwood, has spent five years building a life for his

“Drink it, Victoria. You know you won’t be able to sleep unless you take your ‘calmative.’ Think of the boy. You need to be rested for your visit tomorrow. You wouldn’t want to be too shaky to hold him, would you?”The voice of Dr. Aris was as smooth as expensive silk, the same clinical, soothing tone he had used to navigate the corridors of my mind for five long years. But tonight, as I stared at the small, unassuming white tablet resting in the center of his palm, I didn’t see a healer. I didn’t see the man who had supposedly pulled me back from the brink of a post-partum breakdown. I saw a mercenary. I saw a man who had traded his Hippocratic Oath for a Blackwood retainer. More importantly, I saw the shadow of Daniel, and the quiet, pervasive influence of the woman who had replaced my mother, standing right behind him.“I don’t need it tonight, Doc,” I said, my voice a flat, dry rasp that felt like sandpaper against my throat. I kept my hands hidden beneath the heavy silk of my robe

“Did you really think the truth was buried deep enough, Daniel? Or did you just assume I’d be too drugged to ever recognize the ghost in my own memories?”My voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the frantic beating of my heart. I stood in the middle of Daniel’s private sanctum, the heavy scent of old money and leather feeling like a shroud. Downstairs, the mansion was in a state of orchestrated chaos. Avalain had staged another one of her “pregnancy scares”—a masterful performance of fainting and clutching her stomach—drawing every maid, guard, and even Michael toward the east wing.It had given me exactly seven minutes.The heavy, steel door of his floor-vault was finally open. I hadn’t expected to find a treasure trove of gold or bonds; I had expected more ledgers. But as the heavy door swung on its silent hinges, my eyes fell on a small, velvet-lined wooden box tucked away in the deepest corner. It looked out of place among the cold folders and hard drives.With trembling fingers, I

The door clicked shut with a sound that felt like a guillotine blade dropping. Daniel stood there, the silver syringe glinting in the low light, his eyes searching mine for even a flicker of the “Architect” he had seen on the road. I didn’t give it to him. I let my knees buckle, my body hitting the thick carpet as I crawled toward him, clutching at the hem of his trousers.“Please,” I sobbed, the tears burning my cheeks—real tears, born from the sheer horror of what I was about to do. “I’m so confused, Daniel. The voices… they told me to run, but look where it got me. I’m broken. I’m so tired of being broken. Just… just take me back. Please don’t send me away again.”I saw the tension leave his shoulders. The syringe was tucked back into his pocket, replaced by a hand that gripped my hair, forcing my head back. He looked down at me, his face twisted in a grin of terrifying triumph. He didn’t want my apology; he wanted my soul.“That’s my girl,” he whispered. He hoisted me up and threw