บททั้งหมดของ REVENGE AFTER REBIRTH-THE LORD'S FORSAKEN BRIBE: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The council dissolved into murmurs and footsteps, nobles scattering like frightened birds. Damien remained behind, brooding at the head of the chamber, his gaze sharp as a drawn blade.Serina slipped away quietly, her breath unsteady. The ledger still weighed at her side like a hidden brand, every name inside pressing against her ribs.She had just turned down the corridor when a hand caught her wrist.The Prime Minister.His smile was faint, his eyes calculating as he drew her into a quiet alcove, away from the echo of guards.“My lady,” he said smoothly, bowing his head, though the gesture lacked respect it was a mockery wrapped in silk. “A word, if you will.”Serina stiffened. “What game is this?”“No game. Only truth.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Damien is losing his grip. You see it. The serpent strikes bolder, his enemies circle, and yet he clings to you as though your presence alone is worth the kingdom’s ruin.”Her pulse quickened, but she held his gaze. “And what o

The capital thrived on whispers. By the time snow had melted from the rooftops, every noble tongue was already murmuring about Damien’s humiliation in council and the Prime Minister’s lingering gaze upon me.A week ago, those rumors would have cut me like glass. Now, they were threads I could pull at leisure, weaving a net where both Damien and Aria would choke.The Winter Solstice Banquet provided the perfect stage.The chandeliers glowed with a thousand flames, scattering light across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Nobles glided across the hall, jewels catching firelight, their laughter brittle as spun sugar. The musicians’ bows danced over strings, filling the air with honeyed notes that could not disguise the bitterness beneath.I entered in a silver silk trimmed with black lace, a gown subtle yet impossible to ignore. Its shimmer drew eyes not with scandal, but with power. I walked as though the hall belonged to me, and for a moment, even Damien’s mask faltered when he

The council chamber smelled of smoke and sweat. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting long shadows across the polished table where the kingdom’s most powerful men sat with their masks of civility.Damien stood at the head of the chamber, his cloak unfastened, his hair unkempt as though he had stormed here without pause. His eyes burned like coals, and at his side, Captain Eryndor knelt, wrists bound, a guard’s blade pressed against his back.Whispers coursed through the chamber like water through cracks.I entered quietly, every gaze turning toward me as though I might explain. I did not. I simply took my seat, hands folded, expression serene.“Traitor,” Damien snarled, his voice reverberating through the hall. He shoved Eryndor forward so he collapsed at the foot of the table. “A serpent in my ranks. My own commander is selling secrets to our enemies.”The councilors exchanged wary looks. One cleared his throat. “My lord… do you have proof?”Damien’s laugh was sharp, wild.

The night air was sharp, biting as it curled through the palace’s northern balcony. I leaned against the cold stone railing, letting the chill steady me after the storm of the Prime Minister’s words.Three paths, he had said. All death, unless I bent my knee.But I would not.A flicker of movement stirred the shadows. Cassian stepped from the darkness as if the night itself had shaped him. His cloak fell loose around his shoulders, the glint of steel at his hip a reminder of the danger that never left us.“You should not be here,” I murmured, though my voice lacked conviction.“And yet I am.” His tone was quiet, threaded with amusement. “Every time I turn away, I find you standing at some precipice, staring into the abyss. One day, Serina, you may decide to jump.”I looked at him then, the torchlight carving his features in sharp relief. “And if I do?”His eyes were dark, unr

The banquet hall glittered with gold and firelight, a scene of opulence that could not disguise the rot beneath. Crystal goblets chimed, platters overflowed with roasted pheasant and sugared fruits, and laughter rippled like fragile glass ready to crack.But beneath the music and perfume, tension thrummed like a taut string. Everyone felt it. Everyone knew.Damien sat at the head of the table, his goblet untouched, his gaze sharp and restless. At his right, Aria clung to her role as the ever-devoted lady, pearls woven through her hair, her smile painted on like lacquer. On his left, I sat composed in sapphire silk, every movement measured, every word laced with quiet control.The Prime Minister lounged several seats away, his eyes like blades, watching, always watching.It began with a whisper, Aria’s voice, pitched sweetly but meant to carry.“I hear,” she said lightly, “that the Prime Minister has found a new confidante in