The Price Of Her Mercy의 모든 챕터: 챕터 101 - 챕터 110

NORAI’ve always thought college would be a place of dull lectures, endless assignments, and the occasional cafeteria disaster, in fact it has been for a while now, until sitting in Professor Cross’s class turned everything upside down. I should be taking notes, focusing on algorithms and coding syntax, but all I can do is watch him. His pen moves fast across the board, black ink forming symbols I barely understand, and yet, the way his brow furrows when he explains a concept makes my stomach twist. I try to shake it off, it’s stupid. He’s my lecturer, not some dream man I can chase. But the world seems to conspire against me every time our eyes meet. It starts small. From glances in the library while I’m pretending to research for an assignment, and lingering look when he passes by during group projects, to the tiniest smirk that seems reserved just for me. Every time it happens, I feel like my chest is going to split in two. I know it’s unprofessional, gosh it’s kinda forbidden

JERRYI stare at her hands, nervously fumbling with the ring in my pocket, and wonder how the hell I got here. Two weeks ago, I proposed to Mabel in Central Park. It wasn’t anything cinematic or over the top, just us, a bench, and the sun cutting through the bare branches of the trees. I had rehearsed the speech a hundred times in my head, but when it came down to it, all I could think was how much I loved this girl and how much I wanted to make her laugh forever.“Jerry?” Mabel’s voice pulls me back. She’s looking at me like she knows me better than anyone else ever could.I drop to one knee, my heart hammering, and the city noises fading into a muffled background. “Mabel, I don’t have fancy words. I’m not some rich asshole who can throw you into a fairytale, but I can promise to make you laugh when life’s a shitshow, to hold you when it all falls apart, and to fight for us every damn day. Will you marry me?”Her eyes well up, and she laughs through the tears, shaking her head. “Ye

MIRAI wake that morning to sunlight spilling across the gardens, the scent of jasmine and rose heavy in the air. Jackson is already outside, hands in the soil, planting marigolds along the riverside path. I can hear him humming, low and private, and I can’t help but smile. We’ve worked so hard to make this place ours, to build a home that doesn’t feel haunted by the past.“We’re making it perfect, Mira,” he says without looking up, tossing me a trowel. “No shadows. No ghosts. Just… life.”I laugh softly, brushing dirt off my hands. “Life,” I repeat. “You mean us surviving every asshole that tried to tear us apart and now living like it never happened?”“Exactly,” he replies, smirking. “But don’t get cocky. Someone always finds a way to fuck things up.”I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is undeniable. For once, the weight of the past feels manageable. We’ve got our children to protect, our home to nurture, and now even the cabin near the river is finished, a small sanctuary

MIRA It’s almost a month since Nora’s birthday incident. I freeze in the hallway outside Nora’s room, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Something is off. She’s been shutting me out more lately, refusing to let me enter her room, claiming she needs “privacy” or “space.” I know she’s nineteen now, and I know she’s capable, but instinct tells me there’s more beneath her polite defiance. I take a deep breath and knock lightly. “Nora? You in there?” But there’s no answer.Silence stretches out like a tightrope. I can feel the knot in my stomach almost immediately. Something isn’t right. I glance down at the floor, the basket of her once-beloved pink bunnies now absent from the doorway, they’re gone, all of them. I swallow hard, heart pounding, and slowly turn the doorknob.The room is almost empty. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting shadows across the floorboards. My eyes sweep the walls. And then I see it. Stickers. Nude, provocative, plastered across her walls in pattern

MIRA The crystal chandeliers above us scatter light across the ballroom like a thousand tiny stars, and I can feel every eye in this place tracking our movement. Jackson's hand rests on the small of my back, warm and possessive through the silk of my burgundy gown, and I straighten my spine because this is what we do. We perform. We shine. We make everyone else feel like they're standing in our shadow."Mrs. Meliś, would you mind?" A man in an expensive but ill-fitting tuxedo thrusts his phone at me, his smile too eager, too hungry. "Just one photo?"I smile, the practiced one that doesn't quite reach my eyes, and I lean in beside him while he fumbles with the camera. Jackson moves to speak with a university board member, his voice carrying that easy confidence that makes men want to follow him and women want to fuck him. I've watched this dance for twenty-three years now, the way he works a room like he owns it, because in most cases, he does.The flash goes off three times befor