Semua Bab I Married His Enemy: Return Of The Forgotten Princess : Bab 351 - Bab 360

Cassie stood there for a brief moment longer than necessary, her body still, her mind anything but. If Lydia wasn’t the one stalking her… then that meant someone else had been watching her every move. Someone patient and careful. And far more dangerous. Her fingers curled slowly at her side as the realization settled into her bones, cold and unsettling. Lydia had no reason to lie now, not after everything she had just confessed, not after exposing herself so vulnerably. If Lydia had been the stalker, she would have slipped up by now. There would have been cracks in her story. There weren’t. Which meant the threat was still out there. Watching and waiting. “Cassie?” Lydia’s voice broke the silence, confusion lacing every syllable. “What do you mean by someone is stalking you?” Cassie blinked, pulled herself back from the spiral forming in her thoughts. She shook her head slowly, forcing her expression into something neutral, something controlled. “It’s nothing,” she said calml

Three days passed. And somehow cruelly, that was what unsettled Cassie the most. Not the threats that had once come openly, sudden and unapologetic. Not the hostility that had paraded itself with arrogance. Not even the memory of the woman’s voice, cold, mocking, laced with the kind of confidence that came from believing the world would always bend to her will. It was the silence. Cassie had long stopped correcting herself whenever the woman slipped into her mind. She didn’t send messages disguised as concern or warnings dressed as courtesy. She didn’t leave veiled threats or anonymous reminders of her reach. There were no missed calls, no unknown numbers lighting up her screen, no shadows stepping just a little too close in public places. There was... Nothing. Just silence. And it pressed against Cassie’s skin like thick humidity before a storm, heavy, clinging, and suffocating, making her nerves buzz even when their estate was filled with laughter, movement, and the unmi

When Cassie returned home, the mansion was quieter than usual. Nikolai hadn’t arrived. She noticed it immediately, not because she was waiting anxiously, but because she had grown accustomed to his presence anchoring the house in a way that felt instinctive now, like the steady heartbeat of everything she had built. So Cassie rolled up her sleeves, washed her hands, and then went into the kitchen. She prepared dinner herself, moving almost automatically, chopping vegetables, stirring sauces, letting the mundane rhythm of domesticity ground her thoughts, which had been spinning all day, dangerously. Emily’s nanny, whom Emily insisted on calling “Mommy number two,” had already bathed her after the little menace had turned the garden into a battlefield of dirt, grass stains, and triumph. By the time Cassie finished plating dinner, Emily was already climbing into her chair, her tiny body full of restless energy, her legs swinging back and forth as if the world might collapse if

While Rachael’s face burned across screens and timelines, while strangers dissected her body and her past with the merciless curiosity of carrion birds circling a fallen animal, something far more devastating was unfolding beyond the reach of trending hashtags, viral clips, and performative outrage. Because scandals humiliate. But money destroys. And that morning, quiet, deceptively ordinary, the very foundation beneath the Rachael family cracked open, not with an explosion, but with the slow, dreadful sound of something wrong finally giving way under its own rot. It began almost politely and slowly. Before dawn had fully surrendered to morning, before luxury kitchens filled with the smell of brewed coffee and floored offices echoed with the click of heels, financial journalists, those who lived and breathed numbers, margins, footnotes, and discrepancies most people never bothered to read, opened their inboxes to find something waiting for them. Anonymous emails. No dramat

"Choose!" They didn't hesitate. Security moved instantly. Hands clamped down on Rachael's arms, rough and unyielding as they dragged her out of the set. "What are you doing?!" Rachael screamed, thrashing wildly. "Let go of me! I'm the lead actress! You can't touch me like this!" But they dragged her anyway across cables that snagged her heels. Past cameras that recorded every second. Through stunned crew members who stepped aside as if she were contagious. Rachael kicked, cursed, and even threatened lawsuits, blacklists, and ruined careers. But no one listened to her or feared her threat anymore. As far as they know, she was done for By the time they shoved her through the studio doors... Chaos exploded. OUTSIDE... THE CROWD THAT WAITED The noise hit Rachael first. Not gradually or from a distance. It slammed into her like a physical force. There were sounds so loud, so violent, that they rattled inside her skull and made her vision blur for a terrifying second. Screams