Semua Bab The Phoenix Bride Rises: Trust Was Her First Mistake : Bab 171 - Bab 178

The internet never sleeps. Even after the whirlwind of Arla-Rosa’s surgical feats and the spectacle of her wedding, millions of eyes still scoured the digital expanse, hungry for truth, eager to uncover what the polished headlines had missed. It was in this relentless digital tide that a small army of netizens began to sift through archives, piecing together fragments of a story that the world thought it already knew.Among them, Lila Chen’s blog post had ignited a spark. Early in the morning, she awoke to notifications piling up like tidal waves. Comments, shares, retweets, and emails flooded her inbox. People were hungry for more than the glossy coverage of a miracle doctor and a fairytale wedding. They wanted proof. They wanted truth. And the evidence waited in the unlikeliest of places, surveillance footage from Brilliant City, the very streets where Arla-Rosa had spent her formative years.The first clip was grainy, the colors faded from years of storage, but the story it told wa

The world had witnessed the brilliance of Arla-Rosa Hernandez. Yet, even triumph cannot silence curiosity, nor the unrelenting gaze of the public eye. As hashtags #TruePrincessRosa, #MiracleDoctor, and #BrilliantRosa trended across continents, the focus shifted from her achievements to the shadows that had allowed an imposter to occupy her rightful place.King Aurelius of Vespas, once a symbol of unquestioned authority, now found himself under intense scrutiny. Commentators dissected every royal decree, every photograph, every official statement. News outlets and social media analysts asked aloud. How did Aretha Santon, a girl with no bloodline claim, gain acceptance as a princess while the real heir remained hidden? The questions were unrelenting, the curiosity global.Prince Miguel of Vespas, who had spent years in quiet seclusion, emerged with a statement that shook the internet. “Arla-Rosa Hernandez is my daughter. She is the rightful heir to the Vespas lineage. Any claim otherwis

The internet may rage, the world may question, and rivals may tremble, but Arla-Rosa Hernandez remained unmoved.In the sun-dappled gardens of the Fleming estate, sunlight danced across the fountain where Cedric held her hand, their twins, Cassian and Celeste, chasing one another in gleeful circles. Laughter echoed freely, pure and untainted. The world outside could storm and roar, but here, nothing touched her. Not the Santons, not rogue journalists, not schemers hoping to undermine the miracle doctor and princess.The media frenzy, the public investigations, the hashtags trending worldwide, they all existed in a distant, unreal space. Arla-Rosa did not comment, did not argue, did not defend. She simply lived, with quiet authority, her calm a force more powerful than any argument.And that silence terrified her enemies. They could not measure her reaction, could not predict the next move. Every threat, every whisper of scandal, hit only empty walls. Arla-Rosa had lived twice before,

Peace, however fleeting, rarely lasts when power and ambition linger in the shadows. While the world celebrated Arla-Rosa’s triumphs and her quiet life with Cedric and the twins, a subtle threat stirred far from the limelight.The remnants of the Guxani sect, thought vanquished on a hidden island months prior, had survived. Hardened by exile and driven by revenge, they quietly regrouped, waiting for the right moment to strike. Rumors of their resurgence reached international intelligence networks, yet none could predict the precision, or the cruelty, of their potential assault.Cedric, aware of every ripple of danger, had already anticipated this. He stood in the private study of the Fleming estate, the polished wood reflecting the low glow of his desk lamp. His expression, calm yet unreadable, was the very image of composed authority. But the subtle twitch in his hand, a shadow of Grimm, his underworld persona, belied the storm he controlled.Master Ye sat across from him, hands fold