บททั้งหมดของ TIME TO FALL IN LOVE: บทที่ 191 - บทที่ 200

[The Last Lie]The Atlantic mist clung to the windows of the Portuguese villa like a shroud, blurring the line between the sky and the sea. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old wood, salt, and the devastating weight of a trust that had just been incinerated.Panni stood in the hallway, the burner phone trembling in her palm. The cold light of the screen illuminated her face, casting long, hollow shadows under her eyes. She looked at the photo again—the grainy, candid shot of Jinyan on the balcony. He looked magnificent and terrifying, his silhouette etched against the moonlight, his fingers curled around the Iron Key she had watched him toss into the abyss.It hadn't been a sacrifice. It had been a sleight of hand.Grace looked up at her mother, her small face pinched with a precocious worry. "Is Daddy in trouble, Mama?"Panni knelt, her heart feeling like a bruised fruit. She tucked the phone into the waistband of her leggings and smoothed Grace’s hair. "No, baby. Daddy is

[The Hostile Takeover]The headlights of the sedans sliced through the Portuguese mist, sweeping across the villa walls like searching fingers. Inside, the air had turned to ice. Panni stared at the black screen of the burner phone, the image of Jian’s cold, mechanical eyes burned into her retinas. Her brother—the man who had supposedly liquidated his soul to save her—was now the needle-wielding executioner of their only ally."He's not dead," Panni whispered, her voice a fragile thread. "Jinyan, he’s alive. But he’s... he’s not Jian."Jinyan was already moving. He didn't waste time on shock; he was a Shark who had sensed blood in the water. He reached for his discarded shirt, pulling it on with a grim efficiency, his obsidian eyes scanning the room for any tactical advantage. He grabbed the Iron Key from the table, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white."He’s the 'New CEO' the shareholders wanted," Jinyan growled. "They didn't just save him in Geneva, Panni. They rebuilt him. He

[The Inheritance of Fire]The air inside the Lisbon terminal was heavy with the scent of ozone and the metallic tang of burnt circuitry. For a few heart-stopping minutes, the world had felt light—weightless, as if the crushing gravity of the Vane-Sheng debt had finally evaporated into the night sky. But as Panni stared at the flickering tablet, that weight returned, tenfold.The image of the children in Geneva was a haunting mirror of her own reflection. They stood in the marble lobby, their sapphire eyes glowing with an eerie, collective intensity that transcended childhood. They didn't look like orphans or rebels; they looked like a new caste of gods stepping out of the ruins of a fallen church."The Interest," Panni whispered, the word tasting like ash in her mouth.Jinyan’s arm was still around her, his grip tightening. The man who had just survived a literal war with a machine-brother was already shifting back into the "Shark" persona—but this time, there was no corporate agenda,

[The Ghost Protocol]The hospital corridor in Lisbon smelled of industrial antiseptic and the cold, lingering scent of rain. Jinyan moved through the fluorescent gloom like a predatory shadow, his boots silent on the linoleum. He wasn’t the polished executive the world knew; he was a man stripped of his veneer, wearing a leather jacket stained with the salt of the Atlantic and an expression that made the night shift nurses avert their eyes.Grace was safe, tucked away in a safehouse managed by Annie's remaining loyalists. Now, there was only the mission.He reached Room 402. Outside, two men in nondescript suits stood guard—remnants of the Vane-Sheng security detail who had realized, too late, that the payroll was gone. They stepped aside the moment they saw the look in Jinyan’s eyes.Inside, the room was dimly lit. The steady beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor provided the only rhythm in a world that had lost its beat. Jian lay in the bed, his face pale, his eyes closed. But as Jinyan

[The Final Audit]The roar of the sedan’s engine was the sound of a heart tearing in two. Panni stood in the center of the Douro vineyard, her hand still outstretched toward the receding taillights, her fingers grasping at the dust and the fading heat of Jinyan’s presence. The silence that followed was more violent than the engine's scream. It was the silence of a woman who had just signed away her own life to ensure the survival of her child.Behind her, the Sheng-Global operatives didn't move. They were professionals, watching the tragic tableau with the cold detachment of statues. Lucien stepped forward, the gravel crunching beneath his expensive Italian loafers. He didn't look triumphant; he looked like a man checking a balance sheet."A selfless choice, Panni," Lucien said, his voice smooth as aged port. "But a statistically poor one. You’ve traded your freedom for a man who is currently driving into a trap, and a child who is already a commodity. You’ve left yourself with nothin