Semua Bab The Phoenix Bride Rises: Trust Was Her First Mistake : Bab 21 - Bab 30

The days blurred together after that. Morning began with insults. Lunch came only if the cook took pity. Nights ended with bruises, sometimes words, sometimes worse. The Santon estate had always been a battlefield for Arla-Rosa, but this time, she wasn’t just surviving for herself. She was surviving for the fragile lives growing inside her. The doctor had told her that she had detected two heartbeats. Arla-Rosa was most likely carrying twins.Even now, cradling her sore ribs, she typed furiously on her old laptop in the flickering light of the storage room. Her breath was shallow; Almay Santon had thrown a heavy porcelain tray earlier that evening. It had missed her head by inches but clipped her side hard enough to leave a purple welt. Arla didn’t cry. Crying was a luxury. Crying made her weak.The spreadsheet stared back at her with endless rows of numbers, quarterly growth targets, supplier inconsistencies, client projections. She adjusted them line by line, formulas flowing from h

The next morning brought no reprieve for Arla-Rosa Hernandez. A grey fog clung to the Santon estate, draping the air in a suffocating stillness. Arla-Rosa moved through the house like a ghost. She was silent, her eyes were hollow, and her every step was calculated. She kept her head down, avoiding Gerard’s gaze, which lingered too long when she entered the room.Breakfast was a muted affair. Almay Santon barked orders at the maid. Gerard read the financial reports Arla had worked on through the night, tapping the table with his pen in irritation. And Seth? He hadn’t returned to the estate, nor called since the aborted clinic visit. Not even a message to check on her, save for the demands.Good, Arla thought bitterly. Stay away. But even with his absence, the noose around her throat tightened. Every document she signed. Every figure she analyzed. It all led back to Seth’s company, and her forced role in holding it together.She spent the early hours managing supplier calls, negotiating

Arla-Rosa moved like a shadow through the house now.Days blurred into each other, tight-lipped maids, cold dinners, Seth’s looming presence, and the ever-silent phone. She was still forbidden to leave the Santon estate without permission. But her mind hadn’t gone quiet.Grandpa Robinson was still unconscious. Seth was rising like a phoenix in the business world, using her work, her strategies, her analysis. Yet she had no rights. No voice. No protection. And he was no longer hiding his relationship with Aretha, making Arla-Rosa wonder just how long the deception had stretched. Seth had moved in to the Santon family home since grandpa Robinson fell ill. The first reason was to watch Arla-Rosa closely. The second and most probably the most important reason was the lovebirds could not get enough of each other. That would be Seth Robinson and Aretha Santon. It was truly laughable how they were willing to exploit her and act as if their moral compass was top notch. If I don’t act now, I’

As Seth's words cut through her like a knife, Arla-Rosa's world crumbled. The man she thought she loved, the man she was going to marry, was a monster. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of despair, unable to find a lifeline to cling to."Seth, please," she begged, her voice shaking with desperation. "You're going against the law. You can't just imprison me like this. Think about our relationship, about our engagement. We were going to build a life together."Seth's laughter was like a slap in the face. "Our engagement was a farce, Arla. I never loved you. I used you for your business acumen, and you delivered. But you were always just a means to an end." Arla-Rosa's eyes widened in horror as Seth's words ripped away the last shreds of her dignity. "You're lying," she whispered, but the doubt had already taken root."I'm not lying," Seth sneered. "I've been with your sister Aretha all along. And as for the babies you're carrying... let's just say that's a little 'gift' from the m

The cold, harsh concrete floor beneath Arla-Rosa’s back was unforgiving, but she had long stopped caring about discomfort. Her body, battered and bruised, was nothing more than a shell. It was a cage she could not escape, a prison holding her within its walls. Her skin felt taut, every movement sending jolts of pain through her veins. She had given up on trying to sleep, her eyes flickering open at the slightest noise, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The warehouse was silent except for the occasional creak of metal and the distant hum of the city beyond.Her belly, once a symbol of promise and hope, now seemed heavy with a burden she could not bear. Each shift of her body felt like a reminder of what she had lost. What she was being forced to endure.But the twins in her womb were no longer a burden, at least not entirely. Something had changed in the days of silence and pain, a subtle shift deep within her. The agony, the constant suffering, had somehow led her to a new understa