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Todos os capítulos de THE EXTRAORDINARY BRIDE OF THE WYNDHAM FAMILY : Capítulo 381 - Capítulo 390

409 Capítulos

0379

For the first time in years, Victor Townsend returned to his work. He sat in the quiet sanctuary of his study, a stack of files spread in neat, clinical rows across his desk. The large monitor before him glowed with financial reports from the accounting department, displaying columns of numbers and projections that detailed the company’s expenditures with cold precision. Victor’s eyes moved steadily across the data, his focus deliberate and careful. This was not unfamiliar territory; once, this had been his entire world. He had built these systems and carried the weight of the Townsend empire on his shoulders until the day everything shattered. As he reviewed the reports, a flicker of something long-dormant stirred within him. It was more than a sense of duty; it was a deeper, more primal awakening. His hand paused on the mouse and his gaze drifted from the screen as Clarissa’s image invaded his thoughts. The memory of her stayed with him, unbidden and persistent. He replayed h

0380

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Victor remained standing, rooted to the spot as if the ground might shift beneath him if he dared to move. His chest rose and fell in uneven lunges, his eyes locked onto Evelyn as the word "alive" echoed through his mind. It was no longer a haunting memory or a desperate wish; it was a solid, undeniable truth. Evelyn could not take her eyes off him. Her son was standing, a sight she hadn't witnessed in years. When she finally found her voice, the usual authority was gone, replaced by a quiet, trembling shock. “Since when?” she asked again. This time, her voice was softer. Victor exhaled slowly, feeling as though the very air in the room had changed. “I should be asking you the same question,” he replied. His voice was steadier now, carrying a newfound weight that demanded respect. Evelyn took a step forward, her eyes searching his face for a sign of the man he used to be. “You can walk,” she breathed. Victor gave a faint, solemn nod. “Yes.

0381

Mercy stood before the vanity, her fingertips tracing the cool, polished wood. She stared at her reflection, not out of a sense of vanity, but with a quiet, searching intensity, as if she were trying to reconcile the woman in the mirror with the life she now led. She was dressed in a soft white gown of fine cotton lace, a piece that felt both delicate and substantial. Aurelian had given it to her the day before for no particular reason other than a desire to see her smile. As she caught her own gaze, she realized he had succeeded; a soft, radiant smile played on her lips. Her blonde hair fell in effortless waves down her back, catching the morning sun, while small diamond studs caught the light with every slight movement of her head. Is this really my life now? she wondered silently. The chime of her phone shattered the stillness. Mercy crossed the room to the nightstand and answered with a hum of amusement. "Hello?" "YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED WITHOUT TELLING ME?" a voice shrieked

0382

For several seconds after Victor spoke, the room was suspended in an absolute, heavy stillness. It was as if everyone present understood that the air had shifted, and no one dared to breathe for fear of shattering the moment. Mercy stood paralyzed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She searched Victor’s face, moved not just by his words, but by the raw, unguarded way he delivered them. There were no conditions in his tone and no hidden agendas in his eyes. He had simply, finally, claimed her. Her lips began to tremble as the weight of the realization hit her. This wasn't just a powerful man making a speech; this was her father. The thought didn't register in her mind so much as it bloomed in her chest, a warm, overwhelming ache that spread until she could no longer contain it. Her vision blurred, and the tears she had been holding back finally broke free. They weren't the quiet tears of polite society, but a torrential release of years of missing pieces and unanswered questio

0383

The elders gathered in the conference room of the Wyndham family estate. Inside, there was tension. But the air was cool and smelled faintly of expensive parchment and cold espresso. Outside everything looks normal. John Wyndham sat at the head of the table, his shadow stretching long across the wood. Beside him, Gabriel remained perfectly still, the soft hum of the building’s climate control the only sound filling the gaps in their conversation. Across from them, Evelyn Townsend and Victor sat in high-backed leather chairs that didn't creak, even as Evelyn shifted to meet John’s gaze. Evelyn was the first to break the silence, her voice cutting through the sterile quiet. “We should be clear about the reality of this room,” she said, her tone steady and firm. John leaned back, his cufflinks catching the dimming light. “Clarity has always been our strongest currency.” Evelyn nodded once, her gaze drifting for a split second to the sprawling city below. “Then let’s acknowledge that

0384

Cindy placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "That is officially the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." She grabbed a wine glass from the side table and took a long, necessary sip. "I need this. First, I walk into this palace of a house. Then I find out my best friend is marrying the most powerful man in Richbouph. And then—" She paused, turning a pointed look toward Mercy. "And then I find out you’re also a secret billionaire?" Mercy sighed. "I’m still processing that part myself." "I’m going to faint!" Cindy declared, dropping dramatically into a plush armchair. "My entire life has shifted. I arrived here in a luxury car, Mercy. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?" "You’re impossible," Mercy laughed. "I’m iconic," Cindy corrected proudly, reaching for the bottle. Aurelian’s phone rang, breaking the moment. He checked the screen and stood up. "I need to take this," he said, stepping away to answer in a low, controlled tone that immediately signaled he was

0385

By the time the meeting wrapped up, the atmosphere in the Wyndham estate had shifted in a way no one could ignore. What had started as a guarded exchange between two dynasties had softened into something far more natural. It wasn't quite friendship yet, but it was close enough that the tension no longer dictated the rhythm of the room. In the living area, the sound of easy laughter replaced the earlier silence. John and Evelyn sat across from one another, speaking with a level of comfort that surprised even those who knew them best. Gabriel joined in occasionally, his presence steady and calm, while even Victor seemed to relax, leaning into a conversation that finally felt like something other than a negotiation. Standing a few paces off, Aurelian watched them, his brow furrowed. This was entirely new territory. He had been raised on a single truth: the Townsends were rivals, never allies. Yet here they were, talking and laughing with an almost jarring freedom. His gaze shifted to

0386

The convoy moved in a silent, synchronized sweep as the black luxury vehicles glided down the long private road leading to the Townsend estate. Before they even reached the perimeter, the massive iron gates swung wide, as if the house had been holding its breath in anticipation of their arrival. Inside the lead car, Mercy sat beside Aurelian, her hands resting in her lap. Though she appeared composed, her fingers traced restless patterns against her fabric, a subtle mirror to the thoughts racing through her mind. She turned to the window, watching as the estate revealed itself. It was more than just expansive; it was imposing. The architecture was a heavy blend of history and cold modernity, featuring soaring stone walls, vast glass panels, and sculpted pillars that gave the mansion a commanding, almost predatory presence. The gardens were manicured to a fault, but they lacked the organic warmth of the Wyndham estate. Here, every leaf and stone felt measured and controlled. Mercy

0387

The Townsend estate didn’t exactly quiet down after the initial arrival; it simply settled into a more predatory sort of calm. Voices dropped into hushed, deliberate tones, and the frantic energy of the staff smoothed into a measured, synchronized hum. Evelyn had taken her place at the head of the room, and the house seemed to physically adjust its foundations around her. At last, the household had settled. Even the domestic staff and attendants had gathered in the room to witness the occasion. "I spoke with many of you briefly last night," Clarissa began, her voice steady and formal, "but I wish to officially introduce my granddaughter, Mercy Townsend." Clarissa offered Mercy a polite greeting. While her words were welcoming, her expression remained guarded, lacking the warmth of their previous encounter. Beside her, Damien offered a curt, silent nod to acknowledge Mercy’s presence. A collective gasp rippled through the room. The staff appeared genuinely moved, their faces brig

0388

The private conference room of the Townsend estate was not large. The power of that magnitude required presence, not square footage. Every inch of the Townsend private boardroom was designed with a singular, heavy intention. A long, polished table anchored the center of the space, flanked by high-backed chairs that felt more like thrones than office furniture. Dark wood walls with subtle gold detailing caught the soft light, while a wide glass panel offered a sweeping view of the estate grounds. Everything here spoke of legacy and the quiet, iron-fisted decisions that shaped global empires. One by one, the invited guests arrived. These were men and women whose names carried immense weight: senior executives, long-standing allies, and board members who had stood by the Townsend name for decades. Their conversations were low and measured, a practiced hum of professional courtesy that lasted only until the heavy door swung open. Evelyn Townsend walked in first, and the room fell into

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