All Chapters of REVENGE AFTER REBIRTH-THE LORD'S FORSAKEN BRIBE: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

The palace had not been this bright in months. Silk banners hung from the ceilings, gold-threaded and heavy. Musicians tuned their strings in the upper gallery. Glass chandeliers glittered like captured stars, catching and casting the candlelight across polished marble floors. The Queen had decreed a celebration. A banquet. A festival of unity. A display of peace. Peace by force though no one said the words aloud. Every noble in the kingdom was summoned. Attendance was not requested. It was required. Serina stood near the entrance of the ballroom, her gown simple compared to the jeweled extravagance around her, yet somehow more striking. She didn’t need gold to command notice. Some women are born with presence. Some earn it. Serina had both. Next to her, Cassian looked uneasy. “They’re smiling too brightly,” he murmured, eyes sweeping the room. “They’re afraid,” Serina answered. “Fear makes poor masks.” Her gaze was steady, but her pulse beat with a quiet

Morning came gray and heavy. The ballroom was silent now, scrubbed clean of spilled wine, cleared of fallen bodies. But the marble still held the memory of what happened there. People avoided the room as if it were haunted. And in a way, it was. The council met in the high chamber, where the morning light came in cold through long windows. Aria sat at the head of the table. Serina sat at the far end, hands folded, calm. Damien sat between them, the axis, the fracture. Cassian stood behind Serina’s chair, silent and watchful. Every noble was present. No one spoke. Until the Prime Minister rose. “We are gathered,” he began carefully, “to determine the origin and intent of yesterday’s poisoning.” His eyes flicked to Aria. Then to Serina. “Two possibilities are being spoken of in the streets,” he continued. “One that the poison was arranged by Her Majesty… to discipline suspected traitors.” Aria’s face remained still, but her fingers tightened on the edge of the table. “A

The city was still waking. Mist clung to the rooftops, soft and silver, like breath over glass. The palace courtyard was empty except for two figures: Serina, standing beneath the old olive tree, its leaves whispering in the early wind. And Cassian, his sword still strapped from the night watch. He had not slept. Neither had she. The aftermath of the poisoning had settled into the palace like dust visible only when light moved across it. The nobles were whispering again. The servants walked carefully. The guards avoided eye contact. Everyone felt the shift. Power had changed hands. Not by decree. By gravity. Cassian approached, steps slow, deliberate. “You called for me,” he said. Serina didn’t turn immediately. Her gaze traced the horizon, the pale line of dawn rising behind dark clouds. “It’s beginning,” she said. Cassian stopped beside her. “The serpents?” “Yes.” A breath. “They’ve shown their hand.” He nodded. No shock. No fear. Just understanding. “Aria will

The training courtyard was empty at dusk, lit by the last gold of the setting sun. Cassian and Serina moved across the stone in slow mirrored steps not sparring, not posturing. Just understanding each other’s rhythm. Cassian blocked. Serina flowed. Cassian shifted. Serina adjusted. No spoken words. No commands. They didn’t need them. It was the kind of silent familiarity that only came from surviving death together. Damien stood in the archway. Watching. He didn’t mean to watch. He had been walking past. But his feet stayed rooted. His hands curled at his sides. Something in his chest tightened. Not jealousy of Cassian’s strength. Jealousy of his place. Cassian stood where Damien once stood. Where he once believed he belonged. And Serina, she laughed.A quiet laugh, the kind that only appears when the body forgets there is pain. Damien had not heard that sound in years. His heart stuttered. Cassian noticed Damien first. He lowered his blade, stepping back res

The night after Aria and Damien’s conversation, the palace halls hummed with a strange, hushed energy. Servants moved faster than usual. Guards exchanged looks that lasted too long. And somewhere deep below, in a wing sealed off since the war, a door that should never have opened was quietly unlocked. Aria didn’t notice the shift. She was too focused on what she’d gained. Damien stood beside her in her private council chamber shoulders tense, eyes shadowed, jaw locked in the way of a man who still believed he was in control of his decisions. “You wanted my help,” he said quietly. “Now you have it. What’s your plan?” Aria smiled not cruelly, not triumphantly. Just thinly, like she hadn’t smiled in years. “We start small,” she said. “Control the whispers before they become storms. The nobles think Serina saved them from the poison let them remember it was my banquet.” Damien frowned. “You mean, twist it?” “I mean restore perspective,” she said smoothly. “If the kingdom starts