All Chapters of REVENGE AFTER REBIRTH-THE LORD'S FORSAKEN BRIBE: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The winter sun was pale that morning, spilling across the cobblestones as Serina’s carriage rolled toward the Glasshall Pavilion.The place was famous for hosting only the most exclusive auctions of rare jewels, ancient relics, and the kind of artifacts whispered to be cursed.Today’s event promised a crowd thick with nobles and collectors, and that meant one thing: the perfect stage.Inside the carriage, Serina smoothed the folds of her deep green gown.The color was rich, striking against her skin, and chosen with care green was the color of prosperity in the capital.She wanted her rivals to look at her and think of power.A small, folded note rested on her lap.Cassian had sent it that morning, the handwriting as sharp as his gaze:Lot 17. Win it.That was all.No explanation, no reason. But she trusted that Cassian didn’t waste his words.When the carriage stopped, she stepped out into a flurry of soft chatter.The pavilion’s entrance glittered with carved crystal panels, each ca

The road east was silent except for the crunch of wheels over packed snow.Bare trees lined the path, their branches etched black against a pale sky.Inside her carriage, Serina sat with the curtains drawn back, watching the white landscape pass by.The air had that deep, biting cold that seemed to freeze sound itself.She was only a few miles from the vineyard road when the first sign came to her driver slowing, glancing ahead.“What is it?” she asked.Before he could answer, a shadow dropped into the road ahead.A man in a dark hood, face hidden, holding a crossbow.Then another stepped out from the trees to the left.And another.The driver reached for the reins but the first man raised his weapon.“Don’t,” Serina said softly.The driver froze.The men didn’t shout or demand anything.They simply advanced, slow and deliberate, boots crunching in the snow.One reached for the carriage door.The crack of a bowstring split the air.The man staggered back, an arrow buried deep in his s

The old vineyard road stretched out like a pale ribbon under the winter moon.Snow crunched beneath the wheels of Serina’s plain black carriage, no crest, no heraldry, nothing to mark it as hers.The air was sharp enough to bite, turning each breath into a brief cloud.She had chosen this night deliberately.The city was deep in the Prime Minister’s gala, the perfect distraction for anyone who might normally keep watch on the road.Cassian had offered an escort.She had refused.This was something she needed to see with her own eyes, without his shadow at her back.When the carriage slowed, Serina stepped down onto the snow, her boots sinking slightly.The driver gestured toward a dark line of trees ahead.“There, my lady. Just beyond.”The property lay at the end of a narrow lane, the vines long dead for the season, their black branches clawing at the sky.At the center stood the house two stories of pale stone, its windows shuttered tight.No crest. No lanterns. No signs of life.Bu

The blow came fast, the blade arcing toward her ribs.Serina twisted, shoving the attacker’s wrist aside. The steel sliced through her cloak instead of her skin. She stepped into him, catching the flicker of surprise in his eyes before she drove her elbow hard into his jaw.The man stumbled back with a grunt.Another was already on her.Across the room, Aria had dropped her bundle and snatched up a fireplace poker, swinging wildly at the man who’d grabbed her.For a single strange moment, they fought back-to-back their skirts tangling as they moved, the sound of boots and steel and ragged breathing filling the room.The man in front of Serina lunged again. She caught his arm, using his own momentum to throw him into the wall. The crash shook dust from the beams overhead.A shout from the doorway: “Ledger secured!”One of the masked men was already halfway back into the night, a leather-bound book clutched under his arm.Serina’s gaze locked on itAnd then a third attacker seized her f

Her voice was mild, but the words landed like stones dropped into water. Ministers shifted uneasily. One or two exchanged wary glances.Damien’s gaze slid toward her, cool and unreadable. “What exactly are you suggesting, Serina?”She met his eyes without flinching. “That these payments” she tapped the parchment “were routed through accounts tied directly to Lord Travan’s estates. Unless, of course, the ledgers themselves are forgeries.”A hiss of breath ran around the table. All eyes turned toward Lord Travan.“This is slander. A fabrication! I have served the crown loyally for twenty years”“Then you should have no difficulty explaining why payments for stone and timber are being deposited into accounts that conveniently feed your private stables,” Serina said smoothly.The room erupted in murmurs.Damien’s voice cut through them, low and sharp. “Enough.”But Serina did not look away from Travan. “The Prime Minister would find such revelations enlightening, don’t you think? Imagin