Reborn to Destroy Him のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Ten years passed.Lily grew from a tiny baby into a bright, curious ten-year-old who loved drawing and asked endless questions about everything. She knew I'd been a designer. She knew Emma had a company. But she didn't know the dark history yet. Didn't need to.Claire graduated from Parsons and launched her own small brand—ethical, beautiful, completely different from Jessica's empire. She checked in monthly, showing me designs, asking advice, building her legacy one honest choice at a time.Sophia's partnership with Emma had made both of them wealthy beyond their twenties dreams. Together they'd proven that success didn't require destruction.Marcus and I had settled completely into cottage life. I was sixty now. He was sixty-five. We gardened. Created when inspired. Visited the city when we wanted. Otherwise stayed in our peaceful bubble.Then a filmmaker named Sarah Mitchell contacted Emma."I want to make a documentary about your mother. From betrayal to empire, survival to healin

Five years after the foundation launched, life had settled into a beautiful rhythm. I was sixty-five now. Marcus was seventy. We'd slowed down even more, but in good ways. The cottage felt like home in ways nowhere else ever had.Lily was eighteen, starting at Parsons (continuing the family tradition). Emma and Alex were thriving. The foundation was helping tens of thousands of survivors annually.Everything was good. Peaceful. Exactly what we'd fought for.Then one autumn afternoon, a taxi pulled up to the cottage. A woman got out slowly, leaning heavily on a cane. She paid the driver and stood staring at our house for a long moment before walking toward the door.I was in the garden when I saw her. Something about her was familiar but wrong. Too thin. Too frail. Moving like every step hurt.She got closer. I saw her face.Valerie.Brock's sister. The woman who'd helped him fake his death. Who'd forced me to sign divorce papers at his funeral. Who'd been complicit in everything.I ha

Six months after Marcus's exhibition closed, life returned to its peaceful rhythm. I was sixty-six now. Marcus was seventy-one. We spent our days gardening, creating when inspired, and enjoying the quiet life we'd built.Lily was twelve and in seventh grade. She visited most weekends, often staying the whole weekend. She loved the cottage. Loved the stream. Loved helping in the garden and asking endless questions about everything.One Saturday afternoon in early spring, we were planting seeds in the greenhouse. Tomatoes. Peppers. Herbs. Lily was carefully placing seeds in soil while I labeled the containers."Grandma, can I ask you something?""Always."She was quiet for a moment. Working up her courage. "Why don't I have another grandpa? Mom has you and Marcus. But there's no one from her dad's side. Why?"I'd known this question would come eventually. Lily was getting old enough to notice the gaps in our family history. Old enough to wonder about the missing pieces."That's a compli

The ballroom was packed with people. Fashion designers, investors, reporters, models. Everyone who mattered in the fashion world had come to celebrate Emma Chen Designs turning ten years old. I stood backstage with Marcus, watching through a gap in the curtains as Emma walked to the microphone.My daughter looked stunning. She wore one of her own designs. A simple black dress with clean lines. Nothing fancy. Nothing showy. Just beautiful craftsmanship and honest work. That was Emma's style. No tricks. No shortcuts. Just quality."She's nervous," Marcus whispered beside me. His hand found mine."She'll be fine," I said. But my own hands were shaking.Ten years. Emma had built her company in ten years. Started from nothing after graduating from Parsons. Just her talent, her vision, and her stubborn refusal to compromise her values. No stolen designs. No debt. No betrayal. She did everything the right way.And now Emma Chen Designs was worth two hundred million dollars.More than Nott De

Agent Park called back three days later. I was in the kitchen making dinner when my phone rang. My hands were covered in flour from the bread dough I was kneading. I wiped them on my apron and answered."Tell me he's lying," I said instead of hello. "Tell me you found something. Tell me he's just like his father."Agent Park was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I can't tell you that, Bethany. Because it's not true."I sat down at the kitchen table. My legs felt weak."What did you find?""Richard Shaw is exactly who he says he is. He testified against his father when he was twenty years old. The FBI said his testimony was crucial to the case. He gave them everything. Files, recordings, emails. His father had been grooming him to take over the business. Richard was supposed to be the next generation of exploitation. Instead, he burned it all down."I closed my eyes. Part of me had been hoping Agent Park would find something dark. Something that proved Richard was a liar. Something t