GEEKY GIRL REVENGE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

We were escorted through an open corridor scented with salt and roses. The building itself was grand ivory pillars, glass domes, and a statue of a mermaid wearing a hat. Yet the copper plaque at the gate left no room for ambiguity: The Seaborne Retreat – Private Luxury Inn.Was this a former palace turned into a lodging? Or an inn deliberately designed to resemble a royal estate? I couldn’t tell. What mattered was that soon I would find a soft bed and the comfort of soaking in rosewater.Two attendants in cream linen uniforms walked ahead, their gazes straight ahead, as if every step they took was accompanied by an orchestra. Draped over the backs of their hands were warm rose-scented towels. Hugo and I were filthy, sticky with saltwater, but we were welcomed like VIP guests, not castaways rescued from the tide.“Am I dreaming?” I whispered.“If so, it’s a dream sponsored by a platinum card,” Hugo murmured half in awe, half in wariness.We were placed in the southern pavilion, with so

That morning, the sky looked like a freshly washed canvas. Soft shades of pale blue faded toward the horizon, and a light mist still lingered low over the surface of the sea. We stood on a small wooden dock, exactly where we had first arrived. Only this morning, everything felt different.Someone had turned a dream into reality the night before, and now it was time to say goodbye.Lord Barnaby stood before us, dressed in a white linen robe and that worn-out straw hat far too large for his head. In his hand, he held a carved walking stick he claimed was made from fragments of an old ship’s hull.“I don’t like farewells,” he murmured. “They always make the sea feel lonelier.”I offered a small smile. “But the sea always hides countless stories beneath its silence, doesn’t it, Lord Barnaby?”His wrinkled eyes looked into mine: sharp at first, then softening. He nodded slowly.Hugo shook his hand warmly. “Thank you for everything. For that night. For this island. We won’t forget it.”Lord

Spring in Paris greeted me with a pale sky and a playful breeze. The streets looked the same, yet my steps had changed. I now walked as Ana Cassilas, wife of Hugo Maximiliano Cassilas, a title that sounds lovely on party invitations but hides many snares in reality.My new life began with a fanfare. The media hailed us as a golden couple, the emblem of modern love and the cause of global heartbreak hashtags in every caption. Behind the smiles I offered to cameras, I still ran the company my father entrusted to me. I remained Ana Horrison, standing on my own, not merely an extension of my husband’s name.My days were filled with board meetings, investor visits, and the occasional gala dinner beside Hugo, whose presence always drew admiration. Yet I never truly felt part of the Cassilas inner circle. My mother in law treated me like a princess, greeting me with warm hugs and genuine care. There was, however, one figure who made no secret of her dislike from the first moment, Hugo’s adop

The first day without Hugo turned out to be far less liberating than I had imagined. I thought I would breathe more easily, sleep more soundly, and wander anywhere I wished without hearing those teasing voices: “Honey, it is time for research,” or “Are you sure you do not want to extend the cuddle session?” I was mistaken.Morning had only just reached Lyon when my phone began to vibrate. I ignored it, thinking it was merely a message from the office. When the screen lit again, the familiar face appeared. Hugo. Video call.Reluctantly I answered. His image filled the display, hair still damp from the shower, half‑awake smile in place.“Morning, Mrs Cassilas,” he greeted.“Are you deliberately trying to keep me from working?” I asked, stifling a yawn.“I simply want to see my beloved wife’s face before breakfast.”“Your appetite depends on me far too much. That cannot be healthy.”He laughed and angled the camera toward a croissant and a cup of coffee. “See? Still untouched. Because yo

Since dawn, my team and I had set up a makeshift studio inside the technician van. Just a folding table, a laptop, an encoder, and one large screen displaying a live feed from the infrared camera. Nicky had installed the camera the night before, right in the eastern meadow, the route Celeste had used to sneak in.At exactly 9:00 p.m., I opened the CASSTalk Live app, the massive video platform built by Hugo and now used by millions worldwide. The red “Go Live” button appeared. I typed a short title:Saint Roch Open Audit | Night 4 | Green Energy TransparencyA three-second countdown. The broadcast began.The screen split in two. One half showed my face, the other the live infrared feed. Warm temperatures of objects and people appeared in bright orange hues against the dark night.“Good evening,” I said softly but firmly. “Four days without bird fatalities. Four days of turbine shutdown as requested for the audit. Tonight I want to show you our process, unedited, with no delay, streamed