บททั้งหมดของ The Tyrant's Bride Vow: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Snow fell slowly in mid-December, like cold ash covering the city. The air was piercing—harsh, sharp, and threatening, just like the Cassel family’s current situation. At Cassel Group headquarters, the morning atmosphere was gloomier than the sky outside.Damian took off his long black coat, his jaw tightening as the report on the latest sabotage arrived on his desk.Lysander had struck.And Adrian was slow to respond.The coordinates of the luxury real estate project on the north coast—a project Adrian was handling with his team—were changed by Lysander’s hired hackers. Changes to the land structure and legal data led the local government to halt the entire construction process. Investors panicked. Cassel Group’s stock fell 8% overnight.And the media?Had already started barking.Damian slammed the file onto the glass table. “One more mistake, Adrian, and I won’t stop the Board of Directors from firing you.”Adrian stood across from him, his face as pale as a clean cloth. Winter h

Winter was biting harder as the year drew to a close. The snow fell more heavily than the day before, covering the roofs of Cassel Mansion with a thick white layer that made the entire area look like an illustration from a storybook. The air was piercing, but the Spark-Cassel family’s large house was filled with a gentle warmth—and for the first time in a long time, a sense of security that created a small space for hope.Since the court sentenced Reginald Spark to life imprisonment, the media has not stopped talking about Spark Winery. Photos of Enola as the new CEO are everywhere—in economic articles, gossip portals, wine industry columns, and even national news.Her days were now busy. But amid her busy schedule, Enola found a new rhythm she had never imagined before—the rhythm of a leader.This morning, she had just finished a virtual meeting with Italian investors when Damian entered her home office carrying a mug of hot chocolate.“If you keep meeting without a break, you’ll go

Winter in Cassel arrived with a biting wind, piercing the skin like shards of glass swept up by a storm. Snow fell silently, covering the city with a layer of white that seemed peaceful... yet beneath it, a war between two demons was raging, spreading across countries, families, and the future of a new generation.In Clarisse’s secret workroom, the scent of dark rose perfume mingled with thin tobacco smoke. She sat cross-legged, wrapped in a burgundy coat that hugged her body like frozen blood.A message from Lysander last night still danced in her mind:Strike first before you are struck. Kill Adrian’s confidence.Clarisse followed that order with cruel precision.“Make sure the rumor spreads to the Montgomery-Lindenhall boardroom before midnight,” Clarisse’s voice was low, but sharp as a newly sharpened knife.A Vendrake informant bowed his head.“We’ve modified the rumor: it’s as if Lucian embezzled the Lindenhall family’s investment funds while under Adrian’s protection.”Claris

The snow fell harder that night. The frozen air hung low over the city, as if the sky itself was holding its breath, waiting for the subsequent bloodshed in the war between two demons—Clarisse and Adrian.But at the center of the Vendrake network, Clarisse was undaunted.Not after the casino shooting incident.Not after her own family began to doubt her abilities.And not after Adrian dared to touch Montgomery–Lindenhall territory.That night, she made her move.The Vendrake basement was filled with the metallic scent of old blood and the coldness of stone. Clarisse sat in a black leather chair, legs crossed, eyes as sharp as shards of ice. Around her, the Vendrake family’s criminal consultants stood stiffly.On the large screen, Cassel Europe’s stock chart flickered.“Market manipulation begins tomorrow,” Clarisse said softly. Her voice was calm, poisonous, *calculated*.“Lower the valuation by a few percent—enough to make Adrian look incompetent.”One of the analysts hesitated.

The snow fell heavily that night, covering the entire city sky with a silent but eerie white. Behind the glass window of Adrian’s private office, the city lights glowed dimly like dying stars. Adrian stood with his back to the city, his hand clutching a glass of whiskey as if weighing whether to drink it or throw it against the wall.Lucian entered without knocking. His face was grim, but his gaze was sharp—ready to take on whatever Adrian’s next storm might bring.“Are you sure?” Adrian asked, his voice low and cold as the edge of a knife.Lucian placed several files on the desk. “Not just sure. It’s been confirmed by three different sources. Clarisse isn’t Vendrake blood. She’s... just an adopted child.”Adrian turned slowly. His gaze split the darkness.“And the family used her as a pawn. Since childhood,” Lucian continued, his voice hardening.Adrian touched the file. There was a photo of Clarisse at age ten, thin, empty-eyed, standing behind one of the Vendrake elders like a doll