All Chapters of The First Wife’s Revenge : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Olivia didn’t breathe as she pushed open the iron door to the old archive room.The place smelled like dust, old perfume, and secrets. Heavy shelves lined the chamber, each stacked with relics, letters, broken charms, and ash tainted boxes from the old cult raids. A single lantern burned on the desk like a warning light.“Jessica,” Olivia whispered under her breath. “What did your mother hide here?”Her hands were steady on the outside. Inside, she was a wildfire.She closed the door behind her, leaving the world outside. She needed clarity without noise. Weeks of chaos, war, rituals, and Ethan’s half shadow eyes still haunted her. She needed answers, and she needed them now, before the Widow took full shape again.She scanned the shelves, moving like a woman on a mission.Old cult logs.Ledger books.Spell fragments.She stopped when she saw the leather spine of a book that didn’t fit the rest. Softer. More personal. Wrapped in red ribbon.A diary.Her pulse kicked.She dragged the s

The air in the ritual chamber felt like a locked negotiation room, dense, high stakes, no margin for error.Olivia paced in tight circles, barefoot on the cold stone floor, her pulse pushing hard against her ribs. Every step echoed like the countdown to a decision she couldn’t walk back.Ethan waited at the center of the ritual circle, shirt undone, chest rising and falling in a heavy cadence. The candles around him flickered as if the flame recognized him, recognized the shadow threaded through him. The darkness inside him wasn’t dormant anymore. It breathed.“Are you sure?” she asked.He didn’t blink. “I want everything back. All of it.”“You know the cost.” Her voice was low but firm, executive clarity, no sugar coating. “This ritual isn’t a memory download. It’s a merger. Your emotions will crash into you at full volume. Every piece you lost. Every piece you buried. Every piece Jessica stole.”“I’m not afraid of her.”His jaw tightened. A lie.Or at least a strategic half truth.O

The rain came down in sharp silver lines, cutting the sky like broken glass. Olivia stood in the backseat of the black car as it climbed toward Ethan’s penthouse, the highest point of the city, a glass tower that looked like it had been built for gods, not humans.Her phone buzzed again in her hand.More files.More evidence.More betrayals.The truth was ugly, cold, and undeniable.Ethan didn’t just keep secrets.He curated them.He weaponized them.He built an empire out of them.And now she knew.Bloodbound had never died.It had simply gone private.The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse, revealing a long glass hallway that glowed with cold white light. The floor beneath her boots was polished obsidian, reflecting her face like a warning.She walked forward, spine straight, jaw locked.Ethan was waiting.He stood by the window, back to her, watching the rain crash against the glass like it was trying to break in. The city lights flickered across his skin, gold, blue

The night tasted like smoke and prophecy.Olivia stood at the top of the old monastery steps, the last functioning archive of the Bloodbound Order. The winter wind whipped her hair across her face, carrying the scent of burning ash from the other temples she had already destroyed. Her eyes glowed faint white, steady, cold, dangerous.Behind her, Ethan climbed the stone stairs slowly, each step more strained than the last. His breath came shallow. He hid it under a steady posture, but she sensed everything. He couldn’t mask the shift inside him. His shadow half had begun to unspool.He reached her, hand brushing her arm. “You don’t have to burn this one.”“Of course I do,” she said. “This is where they wrote the doctrine. The first lies. The first chains. If I leave even one archive standing, the world will crawl back to the old rules. I’m shutting down the system from the foundation.”Ethan looked at her, gaze intense but unreadable. “And what does that make you? The CEO of a new reli

The council hall was silent.Not the respectful kind of silence.The heavy, breath tight silence that follows a disaster no one wants to name.Olivia walked through the burned archway with the confidence of someone who had outlived every threat and didn’t care if another one came. Her boots crunched over shattered glass and scorched stone. The walls still smelled like smoke, her smoke, her fire.She didn’t flinch.She didn’t blink.Everyone else did.Priestesses, analysts, surviving wives, and political intermediaries stood in a nervous half circle, waiting for her reaction to the envelope on the charred table.No one wanted to touch it.No one wanted to breathe near it.But Olivia?She looked at it like it was a boring quarterly report.“Is this it?” she asked. “The big emergency?”Talia, her second in command, cleared her throat. “It… arrived this morning. Hand delivered. No one saw who delivered it. And”“And the wax seal is yours,” another woman stammered.“And the handwriting is