BLOOD FOR A BRIDE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

-ASARAIAH MONTOVA- Three days later, I was standing in front of the full-length mirror, and for the first time in… ever, I didn’t look like the invisible Montova daughter. My reflection startled me. The bruises were gone, the hollows under my eyes filled in, my hair glossy instead of limp. A soft curve had returned to my cheeks. I looked—God help me—like one of those chaebol heiresses from the dramas Afsana sometimes binge-watched. “You were hiding this face all along,” Dr. Naav said from behind me, leaning against the doorframe with his clipboard. His eyes scanned me clinically, but there was the faintest hint of a smile there. Afsana, standing beside him with a folded dress in her arms, made a low noise of agreement. “I kept telling your mother you’d grow into yourself. She never got to see it, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed. I caught her gaze in the mirror, and for a second, my chest tightened. I didn’t want to think about my mother today. Not when my ref

-ASARAIAH MONTOVA- The mansion was too quiet. Not the sharp, dangerous silence of Montova, where silence meant punishment, but a different kind, polished, expensive, waiting to swallow me whole. Everywhere I looked, there was something gleaming, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, gold accents like dust sprinkled by gods. I felt like dirt tracked in from the outside world. “Drink,” Afsana said, setting down a silver tray of tea. She already looked different, straighter posture, her dark hair pinned up neatly, silk uniform pressed sharp. My Afsana, who once whispered to me in the dark, now looked like she belonged here. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or jealous. “Come,” she said, tugging me gently from the bed. “The others are waiting. You’ll be given a tour.” The “others” were Leina and Liya, waiting in the hall with smiles too bright for strangers. “Mrs. Kaine,” Leina greeted formally. The title made me want to choke. Liya giggled softly, her eyes flicking over my nigh

-ASARAIAH KAINE-The first thing I did when I opened my eyes wasn’t breathe or stretch. It was reach for my phone.The screen glowed against the pale morning light. No new messages.My chest sank. I hadn’t realized how much I’d hoped. His last words from last night still sat at the top of the screen like a spell I couldn’t break: Always. Go to sleep, little bride.I pressed the phone to my chest, closing my eyes. Foolish. Of course he wouldn’t text again. Malrik Kaine wasn’t the type to chase words with more words. He didn’t need to. One line from him carried enough weight to keep me awake until dawn.A knock jolted me. Before I could answer, the door swung open and the maids swept in like a glittering storm.“Good morning, Madam Kaine!” Liya chirped, practically skipping across the room with a garment bag.I groaned, dragging the blanket over my head. “It’s too early.”Leina snorted. “It’s ten.”Heat rushed to my face. “Oh.”“Don’t worry, Madam,” Liya teased. “Your husband doesn’t r

-ASARAIAH KAINE-Breakfast had no taste without him.The pastries were perfect—flaky, sweet, golden, but each bite turned heavy on my tongue, sliding down like regret. The hall stretched endlessly, one long table and only me at its center.By the time I pushed the plate away, I’d made a decision. I wouldn’t sit here all morning, waiting for shadows that didn’t come.I retreated to my room, curling on the chaise with a book I couldn’t focus on. My thoughts wandered the corridors, searching for footsteps that never arrived. The silence pressed closer and closer, until—A knock.I sat up, startled. “Come in.”Asher entered, his posture perfectly straight, his suit immaculate as ever. His presence always felt like discipline woven into human form. But today, there was something else in his hands.“Madam,” he said, inclining his head. “The Master asked me to see if you’d like to go out today.”I blinked, startled by the offer. “Out?”“To the city.” His eyes flicked to the window, as though

-ASARAIAH KAINE-The painting haunted me all the way into the city.Even though I had covered it in linen, I could still feel it pressing against me from the trunk, alive beneath the folds, like it might claw itself out if I dared to look away.Asher drove in silence. His posture was perfect, hands steady on the wheel, eyes never leaving the road. He didn’t ask if I was nervous. He didn’t need to. My clenched fists in my lap, my shallow breaths, the way my mask sat crooked from trembling, that told him everything.The mansion had dressed me in black silk, masked me in lace, pinned my hair back like I belonged to this world. But I didn’t. I wasn’t born for chandeliers and marble floors. I was the mistake child. The hidden one. The one meant to live and die in shadows.Yet tonight, I was about to put my name—or at least my art—into their light.—The auction hall was a ballroom built for war.Glass and marble gleamed under golden chandeliers. A hundred conversations swirled like smoke,