All Chapters of His To Ruin: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the morning damp and heavy, the air thick with that wet, metallic scent that always follows a storm. Outside, the earth glistened under the hesitant sunlight, and in the distance, the world had already begun to move on. But here, inside the safe house, time felt suspended.The funeral was over. Elena’s casket had been lowered, flowers scattered like fragile bursts of color over the wet ground, and the procession had moved on. On the news, Robert Wolfe stood perfectly straight, every movement measured, every word calculated. His mask of composure was flawless. He had done it well, too well. Too many people would see only the perfection of the ceremony, the poise of the patriarch. But I knew. I had seen the chaos that came before, the grief that had been twisted into anger and madness. I had seen the truth, and it didn’t match the broadcast.I sank deeper into the armchair, hugging myself as if I could hold the storm at bay. My chest ached in a way t

The streets were empty, slick with rain, the world outside still and gray, as if it had paused to let us catch our breath. Ivy drove us quietly, her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes occasionally flicking to mine in the rearview mirror. Killian Senior sat beside her, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped in his lap, silent.I didn’t speak. Words had abandoned me in the hours since the funeral coverage. The only thing I could feel was the tight coil of grief in my chest, the raw, unyielding ache of loss, and the weight of things left unsaid.The cemetery loomed ahead, smaller, private, almost intimate now that the press and spectators were gone. The casket had already been lowered days ago, flowers now muted by the rain, petals wet and soft against the ground.We stepped out, and I felt the cold air hit my skin like a shock. Ivy stayed close, her presence grounding, unintrusive. My father’s hand brushed mine briefly as we walked, almost a question, almost a promise, and I let it lin

The road stretched endlessly under the grey sky, winding through quiet neighborhoods that felt nothing like the world Killian had grown up in. With every passing mile, the air inside the car tightened, slowly, painfully, like something invisible was coiling around all three of them.Killian drove in silence, one hand on the steering wheel, the other linked with Ivy’s.It wasn’t just to comfort her. He needed the tether, the grounding.In the backseat sat the man who had been a legend, a ghost, and a puzzle all at once. Killian Senior, Killy, as his family had once called him.He wasn’t breathing deeply. Wasn’t speaking. Wasn’t blinking much either.He was simply… there. Rigid. Still. As if the closer they got, the more the past wrapped fingers around his throat.“You don’t have to do this today,” Killian murmured without looking back.“I do.”Killy’s voice didn’t sound like his. It was quieter, younger, almost fragile.“If I wait another day, I won’t have the courage. Thirty years is…

The atmosphere inside the Lancaster home felt suffocating, as if the walls themselves strained beneath the pressure boiling within the family. The evening air outside was cool, calm, indifferent, but inside, heat rose from pure tension. Richard paced the living room like a raging storm trapped in human form, fists clenched, jaw locked, every step sending tremors of his fury through the space.Andrew stood near the doorway, shoulders tight, watching his father unravel. Linda sat at the edge of the couch, fingers twisting her shawl, tears quietly streaking down her face as she tried, and failed, to steady her breathing.“I don’t care what either of you think!” Richard exploded, voice shaking the room. “Andrew...listen to me. You must get Ivy back into that house. She has to marry Victor. Has to!”His face flushed red, veins bulging, his anger fueled by fear he refused to name.Linda flinched as if struck.“She cannot marry him again!” Her voice cracked as fresh tears spilled. “Richard,

The drive felt longer than it should have.Not because of distance, but because every passing streetlight carved shadows across Killy’s face, memories, ghosts, everything he’d buried and everything he’d lost tightening around his chest like rope.June sat in front with Mark, whispering excited instructions to him even though he already knew the way.Ivy sat quietly beside Killian in the backseat. Killy sat alone.He hadn’t realized how small the world could feel until he was forced to face the one place he’d spent thirty years avoiding.His parents’ home.The place he disappeared from.The place his absence had swallowed whole.His hands trembled on his knees.Killian noticed. "Dad,” he murmured, voice low. “We’re with you.”Killy nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. His throat felt bruised.He stared out the window.Same streets. Same houses. Same gate. Different lifetime.June turned in her seat, smiling softly.“They renovated the porch,” she whispered, as though that detail c