All Chapters of The CEO’s Vengeful Bride: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

The world came back to life in fragments. The familiar hum of technology that had once felt like a constant companion returned slowly, its warmth seeping through the veins of cities and continents. The lights flickered, first in one part of the globe, then another, as systems rebooted from their forced slumber. Satellites blinked to life, communications channels hummed, and the familiar sound of traffic, of people, of life, slowly found its rhythm again.But all of it was unaware of the delicate thread it had been hanging by. The world's pulse had stopped, if only for a moment. A reset - a thin line between salvation and annihilation.In the silence of the small, darkened room, Elena stirred. Her eyelids fluttered as the disorienting haze of sleep gave way to consciousness. She blinked into the dim light, confusion clouding her thoughts. Something felt… wrong. Not just the heaviness in her chest or the strange echo in her mind, but something deeper, like a part of her had been torn awa

The man beside me said he was my husband.And every morning, he greeted me with the same steady smile, the same low-voiced, “Good morning, sweetheart,” like we hadn’t met for the first time just days ago.This house - this villa perched on some silent stretch of coast – was too beautiful to feel like a prison. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A cage padded in soft linens and sunlight. I wasn’t locked in. Not physically. Yet every part of me knew I wasn’t free.Not when I didn’t remember who I was.Not when my instincts screamed louder than the silence.He said his name was Damien.And I said nothing - because part of me believed him.He moved around me with a grace that came from familiarity. He knew where I kept the salt in the kitchen. Knew how I liked my tea—two sugars, lemon, no honey. Knew I couldn’t sleep unless the hallway light was on.Those weren’t coincidences.They were clues. Footprints. History I couldn’t recall.And the scariest part?When he touched my hand, I didn’t p

Victor hadn’t aged.That was my first thought when I saw him – alive, upright, and still dressed like he’d just walked off the battlefield of a forgotten war.But the second thought came with teeth: I knew he was lying before he even spoke.Damien’s hand lingered near his concealed weapon. I didn’t blame him. The last time we’d seen Victor, he’d vanished with half the Syndicate’s secrets and a bullet lodged near his spine.Now, somehow, he stood before us at the edge of the safe-house bunker, a tablet in one hand, and eyes that didn’t flinch.“You’re not surprised to see me,” he said.I wasn’t. Not really.Some ghosts never stay buried.“Start talking,” I said, voice tight. “You owe me answers”.Victor didn’t argue.He just nodded toward the table where I’d left the drawing of me, Sierra, and the erased third figure.“You remember them yet?” he asked, gently.“No,” I replied. “But I remember the feeling. Like something inside me snapped and someone locked the pieces away.”His eyes dar

The storm inside my head began with a spark.A flicker of light behind my eyelids. A scent that didn’t belong. A child’s laughter echoed in an empty room. Then came the bleed – red blooming from my nose without warning as Victor calibrated the neural re-compiler strapped to the base of my skull.“You don’t have to do this today,” Damien said, standing at the edge of the cold lab Victor had carved out beneath the ruins of a forgotten military base. “You’ve been through enough.”But I needed answers more than comfort. Especially now.The girl I’d met in Project Nova’s skeletal hallways, the one who wore my face, haunted every breath I took. Her voice, cold and sure: You’re not the first. Just the most dangerous.Dangerous. That word had too much weight.Victor tapped a command into his console. The neural re-compiler hummed to life.“Initiating memory tether sequence,” he said. “This might sting.”Understatement of the year.Pain hit like a lightning bolt driving through my spine. I bit

The morning came like a blade through the fog – silent, cold, and slicing.Elena stood on the observation deck of the bunker, her hands resting on the reinforced glass as she watched the world above flicker into panic. News feeds ran across the wall-mounted monitors, each broadcasting chaos in real-time: downtown Shanghai paralyzed by swarm drones, Manhattan traffic lights overridden to cause simultaneous pileups, Paris rooftops burned by laser-guided microstrikes. No city was spared. Luca had flipped the switch.Phase Three had begun.Victor entered his voice tight with adrenaline. "AI signature confirms it. This isn't a random attack. It's surgical. Targeted political, financial, and communication hubs only. He’s not destroying the world - he’s reprogramming it."Damien clenched his jaw. "He’s playing god."Elena didn’t turn around. Her eyes were locked on a screen showing Rio de Janeiro in flames. “Not god. Architect”.Behind them, Isabelle burst into the room, tossing a data pad on