Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Doctor Bride: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

Chapter One Hundred and ElevenAria woke up slowly.Not because she wanted to, but because the sound wouldn’t stop.A steady beep.A pause.Another beep.Her eyes opened to a white ceiling she didn’t recognize.For a moment, she didn’t move. She just lay there, staring, trying to understand where she was. Her body felt strange. Not sharp pain. Not comfort either. Just a deep soreness low in her body that made it hard to breathe fully.She turned her head slightly.No one was there.No chair pulled close.No bag on the floor.No familiar presence by the bed.Only machines. Tubes. The curtain half drawn.Her fingers twitched. She tried to move her legs and stopped when discomfort answered back. Her mouth was dry. Her throat burned.She swallowed and listened.Just the monitors.She didn’t call out. She didn’t ask for anyone.She already knew.The door opened quietly.A young woman stepped in, dressed in hospital scrubs. She paused when she saw Aria awake. Her face shifted instantly, lik

Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen The dining room smelled of food that had gone cold too fast.Damien sat at the long table, shoulders slumped, one hand wrapped loosely around his fork. He chewed slowly, eyes unfocused, like his mind was somewhere else and his body was only doing what it had been trained to do. Across from him, Clara watched him the way a cat watches something already caught.She crossed her legs, silk robe brushing against her knees, phone face-down beside her plate. She hadn’t touched her food. She never did. She liked watching him eat instead.“You know,” she said casually, stirring her drink with a spoon, “she still hasn’t come back.”Damien frowned, like the thought was trying to push through fog. “Who?”Clara tilted her head, pretending to be surprised. “Your doctor wife. Aria.”He scoffed and shoved another bite into his mouth. “She likes drama. She’ll show up when she’s done playing victim.”Clara smiled. Soft. Sweet. Poisoned.“That’s what I thought too. But

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen Richard sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the city skyline through his office window bright and clear. It should have been a normal morning. Meetings, calls, the usual. But a single notification pulled him from routine.An email from Aria.He opened it carefully, almost expecting it to be a routine note about Damien’s appointments or some update about Greece. Instead, the words on the screen froze him in place.I’m sorry I can’t do this anymore, Mr Richard Greyson. I have tried my possible best, but it seems my life just keeps getting destroyed. You came through for me when I needed you the most. You saved my dad, and that is something I will never forget. You have always been kind to me, sir. You were like a father to me. I’m leaving for good. I can’t continue. I hope your son gets a better doctor. I wish you all the best.He read it again. Slow, deliberate, as if seeing the words twice would make them less real. But it didn’t.No c

Chapter One Hundred and SeventeenDays passed. Richard tried everything to reach Aria, but every attempt seemed pointless. Her phone didn’t answer. Her emails went unanswered. Even messages through mutual contacts bounced back. Every route he could think of had been blocked. The absence gnawed at him quietly, more unsettling than anger. He didn’t know what had happened, only that she had disappeared.*****Meanwhile, in Greece, the villa’s tension had escalated to unbearable levels. Damien’s mental state deteriorated rapidly. Servants flinched when he shouted, even at empty walls. His hands shook when he tried to hold his coffee. His face, pale and taut, betrayed confusion, fear, and anger all at once.Clara had tried to manage him, but the recent episodes went beyond even her control. One morning, after he had barely slept and shouted himself hoarse, he collapsed into a chair, rubbing his temples.“I need my doctor,” he said, his voice hoarse, weak, desperate.Clara leaned down, til

Chapter one hundred and NineteenThe flower vase didn’t just fall.He threw it.Hard.It hit the wall beside the wardrobe and shattered across the floor, water splashing, petals scattering, broken glass sliding across the tiles.Clara froze where she stood.For a moment, she just stared at the mess.Then she slowly turned to look at Damien.He stood in the middle of the room, breathing fast, eyes unfocused like he wasn’t even sure where he was.Clara’s lips tightened.“This is disgusting,” she whispered to herself.Not loud enough for him to hear.Not soft enough to hide the irritation in her voice.A few months ago, Damien’s anger used to have direction.Now it didn’t.Now it came out of nowhere.Sometimes he would forget what they were talking about halfway through a sentence.Sometimes he would laugh when nothing was funny.Not a normal laugh.Not the kind that comes from a joke or a thought.Just sudden.Sharp.Unsettling.And sometimes — like now — he would explode.Without warn