All Chapters of The Price Of Her Mercy: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

JACKSONI don't know what pulled me to her hotel floor that night, instinct, guilt, or the kind of love that doesn’t die even when pushed away, but the moment I stepped out of the elevator, the air felt wrong. It feels too quiet, too still, like the hallway was holding its breath.Mira's security detail stood stiff near her door, their eyes flicking to me in surprise. I didn't wait for explanations; I just walked straight to her suite, my heart hammering. I’m supposed to give her space. I promised her that, on that Dubai terrace when she said she needed to find herself again. I meant every word, but the fear rising in my chest now didn’t care about those promises. I just want to see her“Where is she?” I ask.One guard points toward the living room. “In there, sir. she… she found something.” I didn't knock, I walked in, and stopped.Mira stands by the table, staring down at a bouquet of white roses. Not just ordinary ones. These were pristine, almost unnaturally perfect, arranged with

MIRAComing home after weeks in court feels unreal. The house looks the same with its tall pillars, soft lamps, and the faint smell of cedar drifting down the hallway, but something inside me has changed. I walk through the doorway like someone returning from war still unsure if the bullets had really stopped.Jackson didn’t rush toward me. He steps out of the kitchen slowly, almost cautiously, like approaching a wild animal that might bolt. There is tenderness in his eyes, but also hesitation, the kind that comes after you’ve almost lost someone twice.“You’re home,” he says softly.I nod. “Yeah. I guess I am.”For a moment, neither of us move. The silence stretches warm and heavy between us. Not cold anymore, not sharp. just… real. tired. human.Jackson clears his throat. “Nora's upstairs, working on some new coding project. She wants to give you space before coming down.”I smile, despite the exhaustion weighing my bones. “She knows me well.”“Too well,” he mutters, a mix of pride

MIRAI always thought the truth would feel light as a window thrown open after years of living in a dark room, but this truth sits differently. It feels like ice water poured over my spine, sinking into every place I once kept warm. New secrets are discovered every week and its like I'm living in a puzzle.The report lies on the dining table between Jackson and me, its pages still warm from the printer. Jackson hasn’t said a word in almost five minutes and neither have I, just the sound of exhaling from the both of us that fills the room. The handwriting expert’s verdict is stamped on the final page but the signature on the will is not authentic, it's forged, But that’s not even the part that throws me aboard.No. What steals the air from my chest, is the addendum attached at the bottom. a name. a familiar one. one etched across decades of our pain.Kenneth Anderson. Jackson's father’s legal partner, a man who handled both estates, both families, both futures, and the worst part, the

MIRAI hear her footsteps before I see her. Nora, who never runs in the house. She's always been gentle, careful, the kind of child who apologizes before she knocks something over, but today she burst through my office door like a storm.“Mom...” her voice cracks, and that alone freezes me.I look up from the reports scattered on my desk. “Nora, slow down bug. What happened?”Her chest rises and falls too fast, her hands tremble as she pushes her hair out of her face. She's older now, that means she's taller, sharper in the eyes, but moments like this remind me she’s still my cute little girl.“It’s...it’s Damian. I heard him. I heard him on the phone.”My blood goes cold, but I keep my expression steady. The last thing I want is to feed her fear. “Really, come here,” I say gently.She walks toward me, trying to hold herself together. I pull her into a hug, and for a moment she melts into it like she used to when she was smaller. Then she straightens, swallowing hard. “Tell me,” I say

MIRAThe email arrives at 3:14 a.m.I'm awake... of course I'm awake. I'm sitting on the carpet of my office with documents scattered around me like bones. A storm rattles against the windows, an echo of the one inside my chest. I only open my laptop to shut it down for the night, but then I see it.A new message pops on the screen with no subject. The sender field makes my stomach drop: Damian Holt. He's in prison, he should be in prison. They took him away in cuffs, bleeding, and spitting curses. The trial hasn’t even been scheduled yet, so he shouldn’t have access to anything.My pulse stutters as I click it open. There's only one attachment. a video file. Suddenly, the room feels smaller, colder, and I can taste metal at the back of my throat. I hit play and the screen flickers, then stabilizes. Then I see Damian, walking through a cemetery at dusk, the sky bruised purple behind him. He's alone, holding a bouquet of crushed white roses and he stops in front of a grave. My heart