Semua Bab The First Wife’s Revenge : Bab 101 - Bab 110

For weeks, the world had been whispering one phrase,“There are two Olivias.”At first, people assumed it was a metaphor, the press describing a woman torn between business and scandal.But the rumor hardened into a worldwide obsession after two photographs leaked:one Olivia entering the Romanian estate…and another Olivia boarding a jet in London the same night.Two faces.Two bodies.Two identical women with identical pasts.And now, two rival empires.Olivia stood before the glass windows of her penthouse headquarters, watching the skyline burn with early morning light.The world was shifting under her feet faster than she could anchor herself.Behind her, screens showed headlines:MONROE ATELIER’S RETURN THE PHOENIX RISESEVE CORP CEO APPEARS IDENTICAL TO MONROE’S OLIVIAWORLD QUESTIONS IDENTITY THEFT, CLONING, OR LEGENDHer team whispered nonstop, overloaded with crisis, strategy, forecasts.But Olivia remained calm.No blinking.No panic.She had lived through everything, betra

Olivia spent the night running models in her head, psychologic, economic, emotional, strategic.Nothing aligned.Every variable pointed to one conclusion she did not want to face:Something in their history had been engineered.And now Ethan sat across from her in the private suite, her safehouse, her fortress, her crisis war room looking like a man who knew she was about to ask the question that could break both of them.“Tell me,” she said. No warm up. No soft landing. No diplomacy. “Tell me the truth you’ve been dragging behind you like a shadow.”Ethan didn’t answer. He watched her. He watched the way she stood, like the CEO version of herself was welded to her bones.He watched her with the same look he used years ago when he thought she was the only good thing in his world.The look that made everything hurt.“You don’t want the truth,” he said quietly.“I do,” she replied. “I want the operational blueprint you’ve been hiding.”He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Only you would co

The flight touched down hard on the cracked Romanian airstrip, the wheels grinding against a runway that hadn’t seen maintenance in years. Olivia didn’t flinch. She simply tightened her coat, stepped onto the cold tarmac, and surveyed the bleak horizon.She was back.Back to the place Ethan swore she should never return to.Back to the branch he buried under layers of secrecy and bad history.Back to Romania.The wind cut sharp across the open field, carrying the smell of wet stone and burned earth. The sky was overcast, hanging low and heavy like a closed ceiling. Everything looked the same as she remembered, gray, lifeless, haunted.But she wasn’t here to reminisce.She was here to reclaim.Her heels sank slightly into the softened ground as she walked toward the black SUV waiting for her. Two security agents stepped out. Their posture rigid. Their eyes cold.“Mrs. Henderson,” one said. “Welcome back.”“Olivia,” she corrected automatically. “We’re not operating under Ethan’s hierarc

Olivia didn’t sleep the night before the ceremony. She couldn’t. The air in the Romanian estate cracked with old ghosts and old debts, and every corridor smelled faintly of smoke and iodine, leftovers from the fires, the rituals, the bodies they thought they buried for good.By dawn, frost coated the broken courtyard like a clean sheet over a corpse. Workers moved around her in a tight, disciplined formation, all hired under new contracts she had drafted herself. Monroe Atelier was no longer Ethan’s empire, no longer Jessica’s playground, and no longer the cult’s offshore vault of suffering. It was hers.And she was done pretending otherwise.The helicopter blades sliced through the morning silence as Olivia stepped outside. Reporters waited behind barricades. Some shouted her name, others shouted Jessica’s. Nobody knew the full truth yet. Nobody ever did. But rumors traveled faster than corporate memos, and whispers about “the resurrection” had already bled into global markets.Olivi

The ruins rose out of the fog like a broken skeleton. Old marble columns leaned at dangerous angles. Vines crawled over cracked walls. The air smelled like wet stone and burnt herbs. Olivia walked through the debris with steady steps, even though her hands were shaking.This was where it began, her bloodline, her curse, her power, her nightmares.And this was where she would end it.The wind cut across the ruins, carrying whispers that sounded like voices. Some were her ancestors. Some were victims. Some were simply echoes of magic that refused to die.Olivia ignored them.She had come to negotiate with the one person who still held authority in this dying tradition, the High Priestess.The woman who bound her bloodline in the first place.The woman who could free her.The woman who might kill her.Olivia reached the center of the ruins. A circular stone platform sat half buried under rubble. A shattered moon sigil was burned into the middle. Around it, old candles still stood in crac