บททั้งหมดของ Married Twice, Loved Once : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The weekend getaway was over.So was the peace that came with it.Back at the Cross mansion, the air carried its usual quiet tension, a kind of stillness that made even the walls seem to listen. Grandma Eleanor sat elegantly on the sofa, draped in her cream shawl, flipping through a magazine as if she hadn’t just witnessed a viral breakfast scandal.“Get me a glass of orange juice,” she said lazily to one of the servants.“Yes, ma’am,” the servant replied and hurried off.Just then, Aria walked in, phone in hand, her brows knit together.“Grandma, look at this— the breakfast drama is still trending online!” she said, waving her phone like it carried bad omens.Grandma looked up calmly. “Still?”“Yes!” Aria exclaimed, scrolling. “People are so mean with their comments. One person said I probably staged the whole thing for clout. Another said Damian’s expression could curdle milk.”Her lips trembled dramatically. “Grandma, I think I’m going to cry…”Grandma’s face softened with concern

The morning sun poured through the tall glass windows of Cross Mansion, scattering gold across the marble floors. The quiet hum of routine filled the halls, servants polishing the silverware, the faint sound of the vacuum upstairs, the chef bustling in the kitchen.But this morning, there was something different , a spark of energy that hadn’t been there in weeks.Damian Cross stood at the center of the living room, tall, commanding, and unusually calm. His suit was crisp, his tie perfectly aligned, and his face unreadable as ever. Yet, beneath the mask of control, there was something else… excitement.He looked around at his staff lined up neatly before him.“I’ll be having a special guest today,” he announced, his deep voice echoing across the room. “So, I’d like everyone to do the needful. Make sure this house is spotless, the atmosphere warm, and the service flawless.”His gaze shifted to the chef.“Prepare something nice. Something elegant but not too heavy. You know what I mean

Upstairs in Damian’s room, Selene stood before the mirror, her reflection glowing in the soft evening light.Her lips curled into a slow, devilish smile — the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.She adjusted the strap of her red satin dress, tilting her head just enough to admire her handiwork. Every detail was deliberate — from her softly curled hair to the diamond pendant resting just above her collarbone.She looked like temptation made flesh.Her fingers trailed over Damian’s cufflinks on the dresser, and her smile deepened.“Finally,” she whispered to her reflection. “My turn to make the rules.”Her voice was low, smooth, and dangerous.Then — a flicker of memory crossed her eyes.Flashback — Mirage Resort, a few days earlier.Damian had been standing by the window of their private suite, jaw tight, his voice sharp.“Aria’s been driving me insane lately,” he said, fists clenching. “Every time I think we’ve found peace, she finds a new way to start a war.”Selene, draped in a silk ro

Aria pushed open the front door, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She had barely dropped her shopping bags when a voice dripped with fake sweetness from the sitting room.“Well, well… look who finally decided to come home,” Selene said, lazily flipping through a fashion magazine, a plate of macarons beside her. “I honestly thought you’d moved out already.”Aria raised a brow, her tone calm but sharp. “Me? Move out? In your dreams, honey.” She gave a sarcastic little chuckle. “This is my house. And I’m going nowhere.”Selene smirked, crossing her legs. “Oh really? You’ve got no shame, do you? Still forcing yourself on my man, causing trouble everywhere you go. But let me warn you, Aria…” she leaned forward, eyes glinting with malice. “…you better watch your back. You don’t know what’s coming for you or when it’ll hit. Witch.”For a second, the air went still. Then Aria let out a deep, rich laugh — the kind that echoed through the room and sent chills crawling up Selene’s sp

The mansion was silent when Aria walked in.Too silent.The kind that makes every breath sound like thunder.Her heels clicked softly against the marble, her red gown still glimmering faintly from the party lights. The moment the door shut behind her, the mask she’d worn all night cracked.She stood still for a heartbeat—then tore at the dress.The satin ripped down the middle as she yanked it off, gasping, trembling. Her reflection in the mirror stared back—beautiful, powerful, and broken all at once.Her knees hit the floor.And then she cried.Not the soft, quiet kind of crying. No—this was the raw kind. The kind that came from the chest, from memories buried too deep.Her sobs echoed through the room like shattered glass.“Why…” she whispered, clutching her chest. “Why do you always have to hurt me, Damian?”Her mind dragged her backward to another time, her pervious life.A younger Aria. Softer. Naïve. In love with a man who saw her as nothing but a pawn.She remembered the way D