All Chapters of THE WOMAN THEY COULDN’T BREAK: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Chapter 71 I buried myself in hospital work. It was the only thing keeping me sane. Every morning I slipped into my white coat, tied my hair into a messy bun, and pretended the world wasn’t collapsing around me, pretended I wasn’t hollow inside, pretended I wasn’t waiting for news that never came. Nathan. The name echoed in my chest every time I drew blood, handed over a prescription slip, or took a child’s temperature. I smiled at patients, but my smile never reached my eyes. At night, when the halls emptied and the fluorescent lights flickered in that way that made everything seem haunted, I stayed behind, charting cases that weren’t even mine. Anything to keep my hands busy. Because when they stilled, when silence surrounded me, his absence suffocated me like a vice around my throat. It had been two weeks since he vanished. Two weeks of torment. Every day after my shift ended, I dragged myself to the police station. I would stand at the counter, gripping the wooden edge

Chapter 73The hospital corridors still smelled faintly of antiseptic, a sterile reminder of the endless cycle of lives saved and lives lost. I’d walked these halls so many times that I could have counted the cracks in the white tiles with my eyes closed but lately, even that familiarity didn’t soothe me. Ever since Nathan’s disappearance, everything in me felt fractured, like I was stitched together but barely holding.Every morning, before I put on my scrubs and tied my hair into a neat bun, I made the same detour. The police station. I would walk in with a forced calm, ask the same questions, and receive the same answers. “We are still investigating, Miss Rivers. We will contact you when there’s an update.”At first, I argued. Then I pleaded. Now, I just nodded, collected my disappointment, and dragged it into the hospital with me.Today was no different. I’d already heard the rehearsed script at the police station before showing up here for my shift. My colleagues greeted me warml

Chapter 75The chandeliers glittered above us like frozen constellations, cascading golden light over velvet drapes and polished marble floors. The gala was a masterpiece of elegance, the kind of night meant to dazzle donors into generosity. Soft violin notes danced in the background, weaving through the low hum of laughter and conversation. Waiters floated between tables like shadows, balancing silver trays stacked with champagne flutes and appetisers that looked more like artwork than food.I should have felt proud, honoured even, to sit here. This was the kind of event people dreamed of attending. It was a symbol of status, prestige, and good intentions wrapped in glittering lights but my heart wasn’t here.My smile felt tight, like a mask barely holding in place. I clapped when everyone else clapped. I laughed softly at jokes that didn’t even register. I nodded at colleagues who leaned close to whisper about which company pledged the most. Yet, inside, my chest was hollow.Becaus

Chapter 77The once bubbling hall was now as silent as a graveyard.Not the peaceful kind, not the serene hush of night when the world settles into slumber. No!!! This silence was a predator, heavy and rushing. The kind of silence that sits on your chest, steals the air from your lungs, and makes you wonder if the next sound you hear will be your last.I crouched low, my dress pooling around me, the thick fabric clinging to my knees as though it too was afraid. My hands were flat against the carpet, shaking and damp with sweat. I forced myself not to move, not to breathe too loudly, even though every instinct screamed at me to run.The man on stage, the one who had spoken into the microphone straightened. His mask gleamed under the chandelier lights, a grotesque mockery of a human face. His gloved fingers curled around his weapon like it was an extension of his arm. He didn’t have to raise it. His very presence radiated power and control.Then his voice thundered again through the spe

Chapter 79 I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of that first gunshot. It rang in my ears long after the echo had died, a violent punctuation mark tearing through what had been a night of forced glamour. The gala had started as every other one does, dresses shimmering under chandeliers, champagne flutes clinking, polite laughter bouncing against marble walls, but all of that was gone now. We were no longer an audience of donors and doctors. We were hostages. The masked men patrolled the stage like predators who had finally cornered their prey. The rest of us were pressed together in our seats, too afraid to move, too afraid to breathe too loudly. I sat there, my hands trembling on my lap, my chest tight with the kind of fear that makes you cold from the inside out. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny, stubborn thought whispered Nathan’s name. Was he alive? Did he even know what was happening here? A loud crackle suddenly burst from the ceiling, pulling me out of my