All Chapters of One Heart, Which Brother?: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The city lights flickered against the night sky, restless and alive, but inside the private penthouse overlooking the harbor, the atmosphere was suffocating. No marble pillars, no grandeur, no haunting silence of the Delwunco estate just steel, glass, and the hum of the world below.Lia sat by the tall window, her reflection a ghost in the glass. She wore crimson silk, a deliberate choice too bold to be mourning, too sharp to be soft. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, dark waves framing a face that looked almost serene. Almost. But serenity was a mask, one she had perfected. Beneath it lived a storm.Behind her, Ruben was pacing. He had spent the last hour on the phone with men who once swore allegiance to him, only to hesitate now, fearing the shift of power they couldn’t quite name. He’d tried to rally them back into his grip, but whispers spread fast whispers that his wife was no longer standing behind him, but above him.He ended the call with a curse and threw the phone onto t

The night air outside the Delwunco estate felt heavy, as though even the wind itself carried whispers of ghosts. The mansion glowed in soft amber light, its marble walls gleaming like a mausoleum dressed for royalty. Yet inside, the silence was anything but peaceful.Lia sat in the grand dining hall, alone at the head of the table. The long mahogany stretch before her was set for no one else silver cutlery polished, crystal glasses catching candlelight, untouched food cooling under its delicate fragrance. She hadn’t summoned anyone. No guests. No Ruben. No Daphne.This was a throne room, and she was the queen who didn’t need a crown.Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, nails painted black to match the dress hugging her form. She had grown into something sharper, darker since the burial, since the wedding, since Julian. And tonight, her silence wasn’t grief it was calculation.The echo of footsteps broke through the stillness. Ruben entered, shoulders squared, his expression unrea

Lia stood by the balcony of the master bedroom, the black silk of her nightdress pooling around her legs, her hair pinned with cold precision. The room was lit only by the city lights pouring through the open glass doors, catching the hundreds of framed photographs of Julian she had lined across every surface. His smile was everywhere. His innocence haunted every wall.Behind her, Ruben stirred. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, head in his hands. Since their second marriage, he had carried the weight of a man chained, his voice quieter, his movements slower. He knew Lia had changed but in these last weeks, he was beginning to realize the depth of that transformation.“You didn’t come to bed again,” he said quietly, not daring to look at her.Lia’s laugh was soft, cutting. “And what exactly would I be coming to? A husband who spends his nights drowning in regret instead of fixing the ruins he helped create?”Ruben’s fists clenched. “I’m trying ”“No,” she cut in, turni

The ballroom of the Delwunco estate had never seen such a gathering, not even during Ruben’s reign at his most feared height. Now, it was Lia’s domain. The chandeliers burned brighter, the marble floors gleamed as though polished with blood itself, and the walls carried a silence that demanded obedience.But it wasn’t just the grandeur that stunned everyone who stepped inside. It was her.Lia.She stood at the center of the room, draped in a gown that seemed more like a warning than attire. Midnight black velvet clung to her frame, slit dangerously high on one side, the neckline daring, sharp as a blade. Her hair was pinned back, a crown of obsidian stones resting against it not of royalty, but of conquest. She wasn’t dressed as a bride anymore. She was dressed as a ruler, the kind that could smile while plotting your downfall.Ruben sat beside her at the head table, but even he looked more like an accessory than her equal. His face bore exhaustion, guilt, and the shadows of a man who

The warehouse reeked of iron and rot. Shadows clung to the concrete walls, thick with the smell of blood and sweat. Lia stood at the center, her black heels clicking against the floor as she moved forward, unflinching, regal in her silence. Her eyes were locked on the trembling man bound to the chair, his face bruised, his shirt soaked with sweat and blood.Julian’s killer.For weeks, she had dreamed of this moment. A thousand times, she had imagined how it would look, how it would feel. And now, here he was helpless, cornered, awaiting her judgment.The man tried to speak, his voice breaking through cracked lips. “P….please… I didn’t mean for it”Lia raised a single finger, silencing him before he could finish. “Do not speak his name.” Her tone was sharp, merciless. “You lost the right to speak at all the moment his blood stained your hands.”Behind her, Ruben and Ken watched. Ruben’s chest was tight, his fists buried deep in his pockets as if to keep himself from interfering. Ken’s