บททั้งหมดของ The Bride They Sacrificed: Reborn To Love And Kill: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

CHAPTER TWOCold rain poured without mercy, heavy droplets striking her skin with a violence that almost rivaled the pain already tearing through her body.Within seconds, her torn clothes were soaked through, clinging to her frame, plastering damp strands of tangled hair against her bruised, swollen face. The chill cut straight through flesh and bone, settling deep into her core, but she welcomed it with a strange, desperate gratitude.Pain meant she was still alive.She didn’t look back at the mansion far away behind her.That house had already taken everything worth taking, her childhood, her innocence, her dignity, her body, and her hope. If she turned around, even once, she feared it would reach out with invisible hands, drag her back, and finish what it had started.So she got up and started walking. Barefoot on wet gravel, limping down the deserted road, every step sending sharp agony shooting up her legs. Her muscles trembled violently beneath her, threatening to give way

CHAPTER FOURIn her past life, the thought of that wedding had filled Elara with terror so deep it stole her sleep.This time though? It filled her with resolve!“Yes, Mother,” Elara said evenly, lifting her eyes again. “I’ll get ready.”Marjorie narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering briefly across her face. She clearly hadn’t expected such easy compliance.After a moment, she huffed dismissively. “Don’t dawdle, I don’t have time for foolish people,” she said before turning sharply and leaving the room, slamming the door with a loud shut.Elara stood still long after the sound faded.Then her smile disappeared, replaced with coldness. Elara returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower, hot water cascading over her skin, steam curling around her like a fragile shield. As the warmth soaked into her, tears finally spilled down her cheeks, not tears of weakness, but of release.She pressed her forehead against the tiled wall, breathing deeply.She had been given another life. And

CHAPTER SIXLucien was confused. The Elara he remembered was quiet, withdrawn, always apologizing even when she wasn't wrong. She avoided conflict, shrank into herself, and accepted humiliation with her head bowed. She had only ever shown flashes of emotion around him, anger, irritation, and fear, emotions he had deliberately provoked just to make sure she was still alive inside. But the woman sitting in front of him now She was composed. Clear-eyed, and Determined. She carried herself like someone who had already survived something terrible. Lucien pushed his chair back and stood abruptly. Elara's heart skipped. She rose as well, instinctively. Lucien turned to leave without another word. "Lu-Lucien!" she called out. Before she could think better of it, she reached out and grabbed his hand. The contact sent a shock through both of them. "Please," she said, her voice breaking despite her efforts. "You need to be there. I... I need you there." Lucien turned back slowly.

CHAPTER EIGHTLucian entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him with a soft click.For a long moment, he stood there without moving.The room was vast, expansive in the way only wealth could afford, yet cold in its perfection, with dark-toned walls, muted lighting, and every surface polished until it reflected control rather than comfort. Nothing here was excessive. Nothing was unnecessary. Every object existed with a purpose, placed exactly where it belonged... Just like him. Any other night, Lucian might have stood at his window, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the city he ruled without mercy.Tonight, he didn’t spare it a single glance.He moved as if on autopilot, his body responding to habit while his mind remained elsewhere, trapped in the private room of a restaurant, in the warmth of unfamiliar closeness, in the echo of a voice that had haunted him for a decade.His hands went to his jacket first, carefully, almost reverently.He slipped it off his shoulders

After the altercation she’d had with them, she had gone back to her room to sleep, or at least to pretend to. Her head had been throbbing and her heart had been pounding. She hadn’t wanted to see any of their faces again. A maid had brought her food because she hadn’t gone downstairs to have dinner, not that they would have allowed her to sit at the dining table with them anyway, not that they saw her as part of the family beyond how useful she was for their schemes. She was just so exhausted. And with the memory of her past life still taunting her and haunting her, whispering warnings, showing her flashes of mistakes and tragedies she refused to repeat, she never wanted to have anything to do with the Vaughn people again. Not with their lies. Not with their cruelty. Not with their cold eyes that saw her as an object, a transaction, a tool. So when the maid brought the food, neatly arranged and smelling warm, she had been surprised, suspicious even. “The master said you shoul