All Chapters of My Father's Rival Is My Lover : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Cassia had never heard a sound like that before.It wasn’t a scream. Not a wail. It was the guttural release of years, no, decades of stolen life spilling from a single breath.Her twin sister knelt in the ashes of Flamevale’s ruined square, her shoulders trembling, the fire that once obeyed her now retreating into the soot.Cassia didn’t speak. She didn’t move.She let the girl cry.Let her body shake, fists pound into gravel, teeth grit so hard they bled.This wasn’t the enemy. This was her.Another her.“I don’t even know my name,” the girl finally whispered. “He calls me Flameborne. Or Daughter. Or Weapon. But never… never anything soft.”Cassia’s heart broke in a way she didn’t know was possible.She reached out, hesitant. Her hand hovered over the girl’s ash-coated shoulder.“Then let me name you,” Cassia said gently.The girl looked up. Her eyes, once molten and merciless, were now just eyes, lost, afraid, hopeful.“Name me?” she rasped.Cassia nodded. “You were born beside me.

The late afternoon sun bathed the Ashford Estate in hues of orange and gold, but inside the mansion, tension simmered like an untamed flame. Grace’s fingers trembled as she re-read Nathaniel’s reply on her phone.Come to the greenhouse. It’s safe. And Grace… thank you for trusting me again.She didn't know what she expected, anger, indifference, maybe even silence. But Nathaniel had responded with warmth and urgency. And somehow, it steadied her.The greenhouse sat on the far end of the estate, a sanctuary hidden behind hedges of lavender and thorny roses. She remembered going there as a child, watching her mother clip herbs while her father hummed old jazz tunes. She hadn’t stepped foot there in years.But as she approached, a soft glow from within pulsed like a beacon.Inside, the scent of damp earth and jasmine wrapped around her. Nathaniel stood near the orchid section, dressed in a dark blue button-down, sleeves rolled up, chest rising and falling with visible tension. But when h

The city never truly slept, especially not when blood ran hotter than reason. By the time Vincent Ashford’s arrest warrant hit the public sphere, his enemies cheered, but his loyalists stirred from their hiding places. Vincent wasn’t just a billionaire. He was a tactician. A shadow king. And as Grace stood on the balcony of Nathaniel’s penthouse, rereading his final message, she knew with chilling certainty:The game wasn’t over.Nathaniel joined her with two cups of tea. His movements were calm, precise, but she could sense the tight coil of tension beneath. “Still no word from the authorities?”Grace shook her head. “Interpol issued a red notice. The FBI raided two of his safe houses, but they were already empty.”Nathaniel glanced at her phone. “That message. He’s taunting us.”Grace looked over the city skyline, her voice distant. “He’s promising a final act.”Meanwhile, across the world in Marrakesh, a private jet sat idle at a secret runway. Inside, Vincent Ashford paced with th

The ballroom at the Regal Crown Hotel shimmered with wealth and legacy. Crystal chandeliers hung like teardrops from the ceiling, and velvet-draped tables surrounded a polished marble dance floor. It was a charity gala, hosted by Grace under the newly-formed Charlotte Grace Foundation for Justice, and it marked her official debut as the new face of ethical philanthropy in the business world.Her dress was midnight blue, sleek and elegant, hugging her frame with understated power. It was a design by a local fashion house she had invested in, a quiet nod to her mission of lifting others up. Her presence turned heads, not just for her beauty, but because she carried something most of the billionaires in the room lacked: purpose.Nathaniel was nearby, dressed in a classic black tuxedo, his gaze locked on her as though she were the only thing in the room. He didn’t need to be at her side every second, his confidence was in the way he let her shine.Grace scanned the crowd from the podium,

The evening air wrapped around Grace like silk, warm, deceptive, laced with tension. She stood at the balcony of her penthouse, the city skyline glittering beneath her, unaware it was about to become a battlefield.Julian Creed had played her, used her desperation to plant the roots of a new empire in the ashes of the old. He wanted Ember reborn, not to save lives, but to control them. And Grace had unknowingly unlocked the first gate.But this time, she wouldn’t be outmaneuvered.She dialed Calla Voss.“Set the plan in motion,” she said. “It’s time I showed Julian exactly whose board he’s playing on.”The next morning, Grace hosted a private press brunch for select media outlets. It was elegant, intimate, champagne, fresh tulips, and just enough tension to suggest something big was about to drop.Nathaniel leaned in before it began. “Are you sure you want to do this today? You’re just regaining public trust.”“That’s why it has to be now,” she whispered, eyes scanning the room. “Stri