บททั้งหมดของ MY BROTHER-IN-LAW IS OBSESSED WITH ME: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

CAISEN VALENTINE'S POVI lowered my voice again, staring down at the floor."When I was eighteen, I ran.""I'd had enough. Enough of blood and screams and power games. I escaped through the tunnels under the old brothel compound. Grayson had just come back into my life — He took me in, trained me. When I showed up at their door, I was filthy, starving, half-dead. And still Edward didn't stop hunting me."I looked up at Conrad, and something twisted in my chest."He used to say, 'No matter how far you run, Caisen, you'll never escape me. You are me. You can hide your name, change your face, but you can't scrub off your blood. And one day, you'll come back. Because monsters like us don't get to live clean lives.'"I exhaled. A deep, shaky breath."I didn't want to become like him, Conrad." "But somewhere along the way — I did."My voice cracked then. The words fell like glass."I let you suffer in silence. I walked past you in that hellhole and did nothing. I saw you on those cameras,

CAISEN VALENTINE'S POVThe light in Lucian's study always had this dull amber hue, like dusk frozen in time. Fitting, considering how much death we planned within these four walls.I stood by the window, watching the rain smear the glass like blood diluted in water. The thunder outside rolled in slow, ominous intervals—nature mourning what we were about to do.Conrad was curled up on the velvet armrest beside me, one leg tucked under the other, lazily flipping through the last encrypted dossier we'd cracked. Liam was pacing the room, always silently boiling beneath the surface like an unused grenade. Grayson stood at the corner bar, his fingers dancing along the crystal decanter before pouring himself two fingers of whiskey—neat, no theatrics.Lucian, as always, looked like sin tailored in Versace—cool, composed, and cruel. He tossed his phone onto the desk with a thud that made all of us look up."He's gone," Lucian said flatly.Liam cocked his head. "Who?""Edward. His power's gone.

CONRAD WILLIAM'S POVThe air inside Lucian Throne's study was thick. With silence. With history. With the scent of bloodied guilt and vengeance too long delayed.It's been three days since we dragged Edward—three days since the lights flipped on in that eerie mansion to reveal a pile of corpses and the barrel of a gun against Caelen's head. Three days since Manav, the perfect pet, turned out to be the serpent Edward himself had raised, only to strike him where it hurt the most.And now... we sit in the heart of the storm.Grayson, Joshua, and Liam sit on one couch—like three shades of judgment day, tired but unshaken. Across from them, I sit beside Caisen. He hasn't said a word in the last half hour, just tapping his ring against the wooden armrest. Deliberate. Cold. Calculating.Lucian lounges in his chair like a king reclaiming his war throne, and right on the armrest, perched like a crown jewel, sits Caelen. His body relaxed, his arm draped around Lucian's shoulders as he watched t

CAISEN VALENTINE'S POVThe hum of Grayson's office was oddly calming, sterile in all the wrong ways, except for the glass coaster Conrad kept shifting from side to side with two fingers like it offended his existence. I had my feet on the coffee table and my hand halfway into Conrad's shirt.He gave me the look—that quiet, murderous glare that said: "Try that in front of people and I will kill you slowly."To which I responded by running my thumb over the waistband of his jeans and smirking at him like I was daring him to do it now.It was stupid how easily I could still rile him up. One and a half year since we started dating, and I could still get him flustered with the dumbest move.Conrad clicked his tongue. "Are you done molesting me in public?""No," I replied. "This is barely second base."Before Conrad could murder me with a pen, the door opened and in walked Shourya. His sleeves rolled up, collar popped slightly open, tie missing. He looked like he was trying too hard not to

LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe cursor blinked at me like it knew I was a fraud. Ten chapters in, and my manhwa already felt like it was circling the drain. Not exactly the dazzling debut I had pictured when I signed that contract. The comments section was a battlefield of “The story's bland” and “No spice, could be better,” sprinkled with a few dagger-sharp reviews that still managed to live rent-free in my head. I pretended they didn’t bother me. They did. I was mid-sulk when my phone started vibrating across the desk like it had a personal vendetta against my coffee mug. I glanced at the screen: Kim Seirra.I swiped to answer. “Seirra. To what do I owe this disruption to my artistic misery?”“Liam! You sound like you just got evicted,” she chirped, her voice annoyingly bright for someone who probably had a functioning serotonin supply. “Are you working?”“I was, if you can call staring at an empty panel ‘working’,” I said, spinning in my chair until the room blurred. “What’s up? Did your