บททั้งหมดของ The Face of Revenge: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Chapter 32: Someone Like HomeAdrian's POVThe penthouse was dark, save for the faint amber glow of the bar lamp. Everything else had melted into shadows—the kind that hugged too close and whispered too much.I sat slouched on the sofa, head down, glass of vodka in hand. Third? Fourth? I lost count somewhere after the second. After the burn stopped feeling like punishment and started feeling like numb.God, that dinner.It was like being buried alive with people handing you flowers and calling it love.Fake smiles, curated questions, and Vivienne's laugh—sharp, metallic, like broken glass dressed in lace.I never felt more like a ghost in my own family.

Chapter 34: Whispered HeadlinesElise's POVThe room buzzed faintly in the background—keyboards clicking, phones buzzing, and the hum of coffee machines blending with distant banter. It was the kind of white noise that usually helped me focus.But not today.My eyes flicked back to the blinking cursor on my laptop, unmoving on a half-finished paragraph. My thoughts were tangled somewhere far from politics or exposés—back in that hallway, beneath soft light and near silence, when Adrian had leaned in—"Elise," Isla said, setting a coffee cup near my hand. Her voice was quiet but firm. "You seem out of sorts.""What?" I blinked, too quickly.She raised an

Chapter 36: I'd Burn the Hours for YouAdrian's POVI hadn't slept.Not a second. Not even a blink mistaken for rest.After walking out of the penthouse, I didn't even think. I just drove.Straight to the office. As if the walls there could dull the noise in my head. As if spreadsheets could erase the way her eyes had looked at me. As if sitting at my desk would undo the way I'd leaned in too far—too close—too tempted.There was no escape plan. Just silence. And a leather sofa that groaned under me as I dropped into it, still in my clothes.I shrugged off my blazer, and used it as a blanket. Covered my eyes with one arm. Focused on breathing. Counted the seconds.

Chapter 38: The Ghosts at the TableAdrian's POV"Elise?"Screw you, Damon.Damon's voice cut across the room. Tight. Coated with concern—too much concern.The warmth Elise had wrapped around this evening—the hesitant smiles, the shared silence, the fragile glow of something beginning again—snapped like a thread pulled too tight.Because there he was.Damon Laurent. Pressed powder-blue suit, loafers that had never touched dirt, and a yacht-club tan. He looked like he'd stepped out of a curated life, one where nothing had ever truly gone wrong. Even his smile was practiced. Painless.Beside him, Vivienne wore black silk like sin. The dress hugged her frame like it was born on her. Diamond cuffs glinted at her wrists. She laughed—bright, false, unnecessary. As if she'd already won something.He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing like she was a ghost. "Where have you been?"My fingers curled

Chapter 40: The Weight of Our NamesAdrian's POVI drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting near the bag of burgers and fries, letting the city lights flicker past us in warm pulses. Elise was quiet again, but this time it wasn't the loaded silence from earlier. It was the kind that hummed—soft, settled, a stillness that didn't feel heavy. Her fingers idly played with the rolled-down window as the wind tugged at strands of her hair.When we pulled into the riverside park, she leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the view.It wasn't anything showy—no flashing lights, no curated spectacle—just a wide, open park by the water, quiet and vast. The kind of place that felt like a sigh after a long day. Trees lined the concrete paths, subtle lights twinkling up their trunks. A few couples