Todos os capítulos de THE EXTRAORDINARY BRIDE OF THE WYNDHAM FAMILY : Capítulo 361 - Capítulo 370

The penthouse was quiet after the emotional exchange. Mercy stood wrapped in Aurelian's arms, her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The tears on her face had dried, but the vulnerability of her confession still hung in the air between them.Aurelian held her close, one hand gently stroking her hair while the other rested at the small of her back. He didn't speak for a long moment. When he finally did, his voice came out like a whisper."Come," he said softly. "Let's get you comfortable."He guided her toward the master bathroom, his hand never leaving hers. The space was warm and inviting. They moved through their evening routine together. They showered separately but stayed close enough to feel each other's presence. Mercy let the hot water wash away the remnants of the gala, the tension of the night, and the last traces of her doubt. When she stepped out, she slipped into a simple silk nightgown that felt cool against her skin. Aureli

The morning light filtered softly through the penthouse windows. Mercy stood at the counter, humming quietly to herself as she prepared breakfast. She had tied her hair into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling around her face. She wore a simple fitted top and soft lounge pants, nothing extravagant, yet she still carried that effortless elegance that seemed to follow her everywhere now. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air. Aurelian leaned against the island behind her, arms crossed, watching her with undisguised hunger. He had lost all sense of restraint when it came to his wife. The night before had only made it worse. Every curve, every soft sound she made, every glance she sent his way set him on fire. He stepped closer, hands sliding around her waist from behind. His lips found the side of her neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. “You look too good in this top,” he murmured, voice low and rough. One hand slipped under the fabric,

The following day after the surprise family invasion and chaos in the penthouse. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the living room where boxes, mood boards, and fabric swatches had already begun to take over the once-pristine space. Mercy stood in the middle of it all, holding a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of the sudden transformation of their home. Vivienne Laurent, the Wyndham family special event planner arrived precisely at nine o’clock. She was a tall, impeccably dressed woman in her mid-forties, with sharp cheekbones, silver-streaked dark hair pulled into a sleek chignon, and an air of quiet authority that commanded attention the moment she stepped through the door. Two assistants followed behind her, carrying tablets and large portfolios. “Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham,” Vivienne said smoothly, offering a professional smile. “It is an honor to be chosen for your wedding. I have planned celebrations for royalty and billionaires across Europe. We will make

The following day, the women of the Wyndham family whisked Mercy away for a private appointment at Maison Éclat, the most exclusive wedding dress atelier in Carminton. The boutique occupied the entire top floor of a historic building, its interiors a serene blend of soft ivory walls, crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors that reflected light like scattered diamonds. Champagne was already chilling in silver buckets when they arrived, and a small team of stylists waited discreetly, ready to attend to every detail. Isla, Elara, and Ava surrounded Mercy with gentle excitement. Isla looked radiant in a simple cream blouse and tailored trousers, while Elara wore a bold red dress that matched her lively personality. Ava, ever graceful, carried a small bouquet of white roses she had picked from the penthouse garden as a good-luck charm. “Today is about you,” Isla said warmly, squeezing Mercy’s hand as they stepped inside. “No pressure. Just beautiful dresses and even better

The McKnight house was unusually quiet today. There was tension in the house. Dona sat in the living room, her hands resting on her lap, though her fingers kept moving slightly against each other. She had not realized how tense she was until now. David sat beside her, his posture straight, his expression calm but thoughtful. Neither of them spoke for a while. The attorney’s visit had been arranged earlier that morning, and since then, a strange uneasiness had settled over the house. The man who requested to see them had been polite, respectful even, but there was something about the way he spoke that made it clear this was not a casual meeting. And just then, a knock came at the door. Dona’s heart skipped slightly. David stood up. “I’ll get it.” He walked to the door and opened it. Standing outside was a well-dressed man in a dark suit. His posture was straight, his expression composed, and his eyes sharp in a way that suggested he missed very little. “Good afternoon,” the man