บททั้งหมดของ Reborn to Marry My Ex's Enemy: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Amy’s POVThe silence in my room hung like a heavy tapestry, woven with threads of anticipation and a fear I refused to name. Only forty-eight hours remained until the “I do” that would seal my fate according to the world, and the atmosphere around me felt solid, making every breath a struggle. The wedding dress—a sculpture of silk and French lace that I deeply loathed—hung on the satin mannequin, watching me like a silent, white specter in the corner of the room.I sat on the edge of the bed, the bluish light of my phone illuminating my face as I committed the masochistic mistake of watching the outside world through social media. The digital courts were ablaze. The moment news leaked that the wedding would be a restricted and discreet ceremony, the sharp tongues of tabloids and internet commentators began to strike.“The April Enterprises heiress seems to be hiding something,” read a tweet with thousands of likes. “A wedding without a gala is a wedding without love, or worse, a mess

Warren’s POVThe vehicle glided to a stop with mechanical smoothness in front of the civil registry office, but the sound that greeted us was anything but soft. The frantic drumming of photographers’ fingers against lenses, the muffled clamor of voices hungry for a scoop, and the intermittent glare of flashes created a barrier of chaos between the car door and the building’s entrance. From behind the tinted glass, the world looked like a hive in a trance.I remained still for a moment, observing. My mother, wearing a silk ensemble that cost more than most of those people earned in a year, and my sister Grace were already prepared. They did not wait for an escort. The second the door opened, they both emerged with practiced smiles and raised chins, walking toward the spotlights as if they were parading at Cannes. They thrived on that attention; for them, the wedding wasn’t about the union of two people but the consecration of a dynasty.I watched them gesture, stopping briefly so journ

Amy’s POVThe registry hall, with its dark wood-paneled walls and the lingering scent of old paper, seemed far too small to contain the magnitude of the betrayal I was about to unmask. I stood motionless; the bouquet of white flowers weighed in my hands as if made of lead. Through my diaphanous veil, I watched the faces of Warren’s family.They were smiling—a display of white teeth and icy eyes. My soon-to-be mother-in-law and Grace exchanged complicit glances, a silent satisfaction radiating from every pore. To them, this wasn’t the day Warren found his life partner; it was the day they finally sank their claws into April Enterprises. They believed they were sealing a union that would decree my death—not immediate physical death, but the death of my autonomy, my voice, and my father’s legacy.Warren stood beside me, the personification of victory. He exuded a confidence that bordered on intoxication. When he leaned over the table, gripping the fountain pen with possessive firmness, a

POV WarrenThe world, which until minutes ago seemed a perfectly woven tapestry under my command, began to unravel before my eyes with terrifying speed. Visual applause were no longer the sound of flashes. The air in the registry office, once steeped in my expensive cologne, grew thick with the metallic scent of cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.I couldn’t accept it. It simply made no sense.I looked at Nora, and a dark, visceral thought cut through my mind like a blade: I should have gotten rid of her when I had the chance. The mistake was mine. I underestimated her. I saw her as a disposable piece, a broken toy I could simply put away in a drawer and forget. Not only that, but I never imagined that this woman, who had so often wept in my arms begging for crumbs of affection, would have the suicidal courage to confront me in public—to destroy her reputation just to ensure mine went down into the abyss with her.The silence following her accusation was more deafening tha

POV AmyThe weight of the satin on my body no longer felt like a shroud; it felt like armor. I felt every beat of my heart like a war drum echoing against my ribs as I watched Warren’s empire of lies crumble in real time. The plan Nora and I had forged in the depths of sleepless nights was finally coming to fruition, piece by piece, with the surgical precision of a revenge that waited a lifetime—or perhaps two—to be served.However, victory had an acrid taste I hadn’t foreseen.I averted my eyes from Warren for a brief second and found my father’s face. Antony seemed to have aged ten years in ten minutes. The horror in his eyes and the profound disappointment bowing his shoulders felt like a dagger plunged into my chest. My mother, Megan, sobbed quietly, her hands covering her mouth as if trying to contain the scream of a reality she refused to accept. Witnessing their pain was the highest price I paid. I loved them, but to save them from the abyss Warren dug beneath our