บททั้งหมดของ I Married His Enemy: Return Of The Forgotten Princess : บทที่ 421 - บทที่ 430

Eliana laughed again maniacally through broken lips and pain. The sound dragged itself out of her chest in a wet, jagged rasp, distorted by blood pooling in her mouth and the way her jaw no longer aligned properly. It wasn't loud laughter or strong. But it was deliberate, an act of defiance fueled by spite alone. She spat blood onto the floor again. A thin string of saliva and blood still clung to her mouth as she lifted her head, her muscles trembling with the effort. Her eyes found Camilla again. And they were full of hatred. "You think keeping me alive will do you any good?" she taunted hoarsely. Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, the sound scraping out of a throat already raw and bruised. "Your family is already ruined... By my hands!" Camilla didn't react immediately. She simply stared at Eliana for a long moment, her face unreadable, despite the storm boiling beneath her skin. The fluorescent light above them flickered over the dried blood spattered across

When Eliana finally lifted her head and truly looked at her son, something inside her, something she had buried so deeply, she had convinced herself, it no longer existed, shifted violently. Adrian stood before her like a ghost of the boy she once knew, except there was nothing innocent left in his eyes. His shoulders were hunched, as though the weight of the world had finally crushed down on him, and his hands trembled not from weakness alone, but from exhaustion so deep it had carved itself into his bones. He looked beaten, broken, ruined, and lost. Eliana’s lips parted. But... For the first time in years, decades, she felt something claw its way up her throat. Regret! She wanted to say something. Anything. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for everything, for the years of cruelty, for the coldness, for the way she had twisted his childhood into something sharp and painful and full of fear. She wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from

When the family finally saw Adrian completely broken on the ground, it was as if the world itself had paused for a single, terrible second, the kind of silence that presses so hard against the ears it almost hurts. He was kneeling there, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed low, hands braced uselessly against the cold surface beneath him as though gravity itself had suddenly doubled its weight, crushing him down inch by inch. This was not the Adrian they knew, the calm one, the composed one, the man who always held himself together even when everything around him fell apart. This was a man undone, stripped raw, exposed in a way that made everyone’s chest tighten painfully. Cassie was the first to move. She didn’t rush forward immediately. No... she took one look at Adrian, then another at Nikolai, who stood frozen beside her like someone had unplugged him from reality. Her jaw tightened, and without hesitation, she nudged her husband sharply in the ribs with her elbow.

FIVE YEARS LATER! Five years had passed since the blood had soaked the floors, since screams had echoed through burning halls, since death had been so close it had brushed against their skin and whispered promises no one had wanted to hear. Five years since Eliana’s schemes had finally crumbled, since Raymond’s cruelty had met its long-overdue end, and since Rachael’s tragic death had slammed the final door on a chapter that none of them, not a single soul, ever wished to reopen again. Time had moved on. Well... Not gently at first. At the beginning, time had been cruel, forcing wounds open just when they thought they were beginning to scar. Nights had been long. Silence had been loud. Sleep had been a battlefield of memories and nightmares. But somehow… slowly… painfully… Time had learned mercy. Not forgiveness, never forgiveness, but restraint. Because even if their enemies were dead, they would never forgive them The Rosewood family had buried the past. Not erased it or d

The wedding day arrived the same way most important moments in the Rosewood family always did, loud, dramatic, outrageously expensive, and completely out of control, wrapped in silk, diamonds, and old-money arrogance, yet hanging by a thread of pure chaos, with at least three near-fights, two emotional breakdowns, and one person threatening bodily harm before noon. And that person... Was Nikolai Rosewood. By ten a.m., the Rosewood Mansion looked less like the venue of a holy union and more like the staging ground for an impending war. Staff rushed through hallways with walkie-talkies crackling nonstop. Designers argued in hushed but aggressive whispers over floral arrangements that cost more than most people’s annual salaries. Someone screamed about the champagne being the wrong temperature. Another person cried over a seating chart that placed the wrong cousin too close to an old enemy. And in the middle of it all... Nikolai had not seen his wife for three whole d