MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

The leather chair was cold against Marceline's back. She shifted around, trying to get comfortable. The office looked like every other corporate space - all gray and black, just like Cross's soul. She ran her fingers over the armrest. Expensive stuff. The walls had awards and certificates she couldn't read from where she sat. Pictures of Cross shaking hands with suits. A world she was married into but never belonged to.Quiet. The clock on the wall was too loud. Tick. Tick. Tick. She checked her phone. Cross still hasn't been back. Typical. He called her here like she worked for him instead of being his wife. Well, wife on paper. Their marriage was more like a business deal than anything with feelings.Her wedding ring caught light from the big windows. Heavy. Expensive. Like wearing handcuffs made of diamonds. She twisted it around her finger - something she did a lot since the wedding. The diamond was perfect, the setting fancy. Cross made sure everyone knew what it cost. Image was

Samantha's eyes burned with fury as she stared at Marceline . Her manicured fingers curled into fists at her sides, knuckles white with the pressure of barely contained rage."How dare you threaten me," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. Each word dripped with venom, her carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal the ugliness beneath. The silk blouse she wore rose and fell with her rapid breathing, betraying just how deeply Marceline's words had affected her.Marceline, in stark contrast, remained infuriatingly calm. "Oh don't say that, I'm not threatening you at all," Marceline muttered, her voice carrying that maddening tone of innocence that only served to fuel Samantha's anger further. "I'm only giving you an instance." She examined her nails with deliberate nonchalance. The air between them crackled with hostility. Samantha's chest heaved as she fought to maintain some semblance of control, but Marceline's dismissive attitude was like gasoline

Samantha stared at him, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide like she'd just watched him grow a second head. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning in Cross's office.Never had she thought Cross would do this kind of thing. Not Cross. Not the man who treated relationships like disposable coffee cups, using them up and tossing them aside without a second thought."Cross, what has gone over you?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, her voice higher than usual.She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Don't tell me you've fallen for her." The words came out sharp, bitter. Like she was spitting out something that tasted bad.Cross didn't even look up from his desk where he was shuffling through some papers. His movements were casual, almost lazy. "It's not your business, Samantha."His voice was flat, emotionless. The same tone he use

"Ma'am, we're here."The taxi driver's voice cut through the fog of Marceline's thoughts like a knife through butter. She'd been staring out the window for God knows how long, watching the scenery change from the familiar cramped streets of her neighborhood to this... this place that looked like it belonged in a damn magazine."Oh, thank you," she muttered, fumbling around in her purse for her wallet. Her hands were shaking a little - when had that started? She pulled out a crumpled twenty and handed it to the driver, not even bothering to wait for change as she pushed the car door open.The taxi pulled away with a soft purr of its engine, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk like some lost tourist. And honestly? That's exactly how she felt.Right before her stood a beautiful mansion. Not just nice. Not just big. Beautiful in that way that made your chest tight and your stomach drop because you knew you didn't belong anywhere near it. The kind of place that had perfectly manicur

Marceline stared at her mother like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and impossible to process. Her brain felt like it was moving through thick honey, trying to make sense of what Amanda had just said."What are you saying, mother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The confusion in her eyes was raw, vulnerable.Amanda's hands trembled as she reached out, her fingers wrapping around Marceline's wrist with desperate urgency. "Marceline, I know you might not like the idea, but that's the perfect way to escape Cross."The words hit Marceline like a physical blow. She looked down at her mother's grip on her hand—those same hands that had braided her hair as a child, that had held her when she cried, that had taught her how to be strong. Now they were asking her to run. To abandon everything.Slowly, deliberately, Marceline removed her hand from Amanda's grasp. The gesture was gentle but firm, like pulling away from a flame b