Semua Bab Reborn to Marry My Ex's Enemy: Bab 71 - Bab 80

I could barely breathe. Simon’s warm hand on mine served as a stark reminder: I had spoken those words the moment we met again, and Simon had taken my promise far too seriously for too long.His question, thrown out there in the middle of the bistro, hit me with the force of an ultimatum, a dizzying blend of rescue and possession.“You made me a promise, Amy; you said you would marry me. I’m waiting,” he repeated. His voice was deep and controlled, but anxiety flickered in his blue eyes.I stared at his face, absorbing the seriousness. Marry him. I knew Simon well enough to recognize him as a man who collected women, not one who tied himself to them. The rumors about him in high society were legendary; his list of conquests ran longer than his arms. He had never been serious with anyone. Now, suddenly, he seemed willing to marry me, taking our agreement far too seriously.“I remember perfectly what I said,” I stammered, lightly pulling my hand away, but he held it tighter. “I remember

The early evening air was chilly, but what boiled inside me was far more intense. I stormed out of Amy’s house like a hurricane, ignoring the breeze that tried, uselessly, to soothe my skin. I was furious, and it wasn’t a common fury, the kind that dissipates with a good cigar and a glass of whiskey. It was a glacial rage, fueled by a fear I barely dared to name.What the hell had just happened? The woman who always trembled at the sound of my voice, who bent to my desires, was… different. I remembered her gaze, the way she held my anger without flinching. The dread consuming me was the fact that she no longer showed any fear of losing me. Suddenly, the invisible rope I thought I was holding around her neck had snapped, and I was holding only air.I lost control. The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach: I had lost control over Amy, and our future marriage—the guarantee of my financial stability, the key to a fortune I had coveted for years—could collapse at any moment.I wa

I was walking toward the heavy door of Simon’s bar, feeling the loud sound mixed with the smell of bourbon and smoke, when the figure stumbled onto the sidewalk. I didn’t need a second glance to know who it was. It was only Maia, displaying a mixture of panic, anger, and despair. She was gasping for air, her shoulders tense beneath the designer coat, looking like a cornered creature fleeing an ambush, and I knew immediately what this was about.She wasn’t there by chance. Simon was a key player in my game, and Maia, or more likely, my unscrupulous uncle Aaron, had sent her to spy. They were desperate. The wedding to Warren was approaching. The sight of Maia, so disheveled and scared, brought a bitter smile to my lips. Maia was a predictable tool, easy to manipulate.She paused a few steps away from me, her gaze locked on mine, her breathing shallow. It was obvious she had just come out of some confrontation, and it was certainly with Simon. So why then was she running away?I didn’t r

The silence in the room was unsettling. Megan was no longer pounding on the door or screaming hysterically for Chloe to let her in. Ruan felt exhausted and bruised, but no wound seemed more painful than the one in his heart.Chloe remained standing, a safe distance from the bed, her hands crossed over her chest. She had held back her tears, but the pain she saw in his face—something uncommon in their years of marriage—was reopening old wounds. She forced her voice to come out cold and practical.“What does Megan have to do with your injuries?” She couldn’t help the stab of bitterness. She leaned in to look at him better, keeping a safe distance from her old and current love. “If you’ve decided not to tell me, I really need to go.”Ruan tried to move in the bed, and the pain made him groan slightly. Guilt hit him, a cold and sudden wave. Looking at Chloe—the strong woman he had so cowardly dismissed after Megan’s return—he realized how unfair he had been. He had trusted his destructive

I woke up the next day, the morning sun filtering through the slits in my silk curtains, but the light couldn’t dissipate the cold fog hanging over my head. My first thought wasn’t about my plan, or Jackson, or Peter. It was about Sara.A sharp pang of longing hit my chest, mixing with the ache of her rejection. It was a cruel cycle. I fought to save her life, but with every step, she pushed me further away. If I were the old Amy, I would have immediately called Sara to ask what I should wear to the dinner, begging for her opinion. Sara would know how to prepare me for a high-caliber family event like today’s; she would know exactly which mask to put on to please everyone, and which dress to choose so that Warren noticed only my beauty and not my contempt.I closed my eyes, and the memory of a simple childhood day, when Sara and I lay in the backyard grass, laughing at silly jokes, flooded my mind. That was my safe place. Now, Sara was my biggest headache.I remembered the moment I to