She died a wife, Returned a flame のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Sheila’s POVThe night after I found my file, I didn’t sleep.I sat by the window in the maid’s quarters, the folder on my lap, staring at it as if it would change if I blinked long enough. Every creak of the mansion’s old walls sounded like footsteps coming for me. Every flicker of light from the hallway made me flinch. I had spent weeks carefully weaving my revenge, step by step, waiting for the perfect moment to destroy Adrian. But this, this was something else entirely.The more I read, the more it hurt to breathe.There were numbers I couldn’t make sense of, codes that repeated through the papers. I followed them line by line, tracing each one like a wound I couldn’t stop reopening. The deeper I went, the more connections appeared. My surgery date. Adrian’s business accounts. The same hospital seal. And beside it, a name I’d seen a hundred times before, Dr. Langford.He was the surgeon who performed my transplant. The same man Adrian had promised was “the best.”I turned the page

Adrian’s POVThe glow of the computer screen bathed the study in an eerie blue light. It was long past midnight, and the mansion had fallen into silence, but Adrian’s mind refused to rest. Every corner of his empire suddenly felt unstable. Numbers were no longer aligning. Files were missing. The system logs were inconsistent. And someone, somewhere, was watching him.He scrolled through another endless stream of encrypted data, his jaw tight. Weeks ago, he had installed a multi-layered security protocol designed to detect any unauthorized activity. It had always been flawless until now.The first red flag appeared three days ago. A few missing documents from the company server, all linked to medical transactions and client transfers. He had assumed it was a glitch, a small error in the audit software. But then the second anomaly appeared: a series of emails sent to his personal inbox, containing nothing but encrypted attachments. No sender name, no traceable origin, just one subject l

Sheila’s POVThe first time I hit send, my hands trembled. Not from fear, but from the power of it.A single message, encrypted and anonymous, traveled through a dozen digital tunnels before landing in the inbox of a reporter who had once been fired for chasing stories that powerful men wanted buried. Attached was a photograph, Adrian’s signature on a transfer document for an illegal shipment of medical supplies.It was small, almost harmless on its own. But the spark was lit.Within twenty-four hours, whispers began to circulate. “Corporate misconduct.” “Illegal experimentation.” “Offshore assets.” The board of directors started asking questions, investors began pulling out, and journalists sniffed around the cracks in Adrian’s empire.He had spent years crafting a spotless public image, and now, one loose thread was all it took for the mask to start unraveling.I watched it all unfold from the corner of the mansion’s kitchen, wiping down an already clean counter while the news murmu

Author’s POVVanessa had always known when a storm was coming.It was in the air, the way the mansion felt heavier, colder, as if the walls were holding their breath. Once, the house was alive with the scent of flowers, with laughter and the sound of Adrian’s footsteps approaching her door. Now it felt like a mausoleum of secrets, every corner watching her, every silence judging her.Adrian barely looked at her anymore. When he did, it was with eyes that seemed to search for something else, someone else.Kyle had gone quiet too. After their last fight in the garden, he stopped calling, stopped showing up. Even when she caught sight of him during business meetings, he avoided her eyes. And the staff, once obedient, now whispered behind her back.She was losing her place in her own home.Vanessa tried to remind herself who she was, the woman who had replaced Sheila Drake, the woman who had survived Adrian’s moods, his control, his obsession. But lately, every time she looked in the mirr

Sheila’s POVI sat on the edge of the bed with Sebastian’s dossier spread across my lap. The pages were thick with years of hidden filth, transaction records, fake patient IDs, signed authorizations, and photographs that made my stomach twist. Adrian’s signature was on every page, neat and steady, the same signature that once signed love notes and birthday cards.Sebastian had delivered the documents only a few hours ago. He had not stayed long. He never did. We met in his car, far away from the mansion, in a quiet parking lot where no one could track us. He slid the black folder toward me without a word. His eyes were heavy with things he wanted to say but could not.“You’re sure this is everything?” I had asked.“It is,” he said. “If this gets out, Adrian Drake is finished. But you need to be careful, Sheila. The kind of men he’s dealing with, they don’t forgive exposure.”I had smiled, thin and tired. “Neither do I.”Now, back in my room, I could still hear the echo of his warning