All Chapters of The Bride They Sacrificed: Reborn To Love And Kill: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The next morning... The sunlight that filtered through the tall windows of the Hale estate felt wrong. It was too bright for a house that had barely slept, too warm for a family that had spent the entire night sitting outside Nathan's bedroom, waiting to hear whether he would wake up again without complications. He looked weak, that was for sure. Weak in a way none of them had seen in a very long time. The man who had built empires with his bare hands, who had stood like an unmovable mountain at the head of the family for decades, now lay propped up against white pillows, his skin pale, his lips slightly dry, faint shadows under his eyes. The entire family had gathered in his room, Seraphina standing near the window with her arms tightly folded across her chest; Lucian by the bedside, both hands in his pocket. Felix pacing near the door; Lisa hovering anxiously with a glass of water; Grandma Hale sitting in silence in a chair near the foot of the bed, her cane resting against

Felix made a mistake... A terrible, irreversible mistake to point a finger at Elara. Not in confusion or fear. But angrily and accusingly. His hand shot forward, his finger rigid, his arm tense, his face flushed with rage as his voice cracked through the room like glass shattering. "You-!" He didn't even get to finish the sentence. Because Lucian moved. And when he moved, it wasn't human anymore. It was instinct. It was possession. It was violence wrapped in a human body. The moment that finger aimed at Elara, Lucian's entire body went still, eerily, unnervingly still, like a predator locking onto prey. Then in one swift motion, he grabbed Felix's hand. Not just grabbed. He caught it mid-air. His fingers wrapped around Felix's pointing finger with terrifying precision and squeezed. The crack echoed before the scream did. Felix let out a piercing scream. It tore through the room. High, raw, and agonized. Everyone froze. But Lucian didn't. His grip tightene

Just then... The door burst open so violently that it slammed against the wall with a deafening crack, the impact echoing through the room like a gunshot. It was Grace. Of course, it was Grace. She didn’t walk in, she stumbled, nearly tripping over the threshold as if her legs no longer remembered how to function. Her entire body was shaking so violently that it looked as though her bones might splinter beneath her skin. Her hair hung loose and tangled around her face, mascara streaming down her cheeks in dark, smeared rivers that mixed with tears and snot she didn’t even attempt to wipe away. Her chest heaved frantically, rising and falling in broken, uneven bursts, as she had sprinted for miles. But the terror in her eyes made one thing painfully clear. This wasn’t from running. This was from fear, raw, animal, crippling fear. Everybody froze. What the hell was going on? And why did Grace look like that? Only seconds ago, the room had been filled with tension and threat f

Edward’s fingers grabbed his little brother's hand and tightened around Nathan’s wrist as though he feared that if he loosened his grip even slightly, the man would vanish, like smoke, like a ghost, like the terrible image still replaying on the television screen behind them. “I'm glad, I'm glad you are alive. I'm glad you are still here," he tried not to choke on his words, though the edge in his voice had dulled into something fragile, something desperate. The room seemed to inhale and forget how to exhale. Nathan didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted, slowly, and deliberately past Edward. Past the trembling figures of his children. Toward the doorway... Toward her. She stood there like a quiet shadow on the edge of disaster. Elara. She hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t collapsed. Hadn’t fought her way to the center of the chaos. She had simply stood there. Shaking like a leaf. Not with hysteria or panic. But with the aftermath of terror, and the overwhelming flood of relief th

The whole issue calmed down after Nathan assured everyone that he was okay. Nathan stood in the center of the living room, one hand still braced against the edge of the table as if he needed the support, his expression firm but gentle. “I’m fine,” he repeated, this time slower, louder, making sure every single sibling heard him clearly. “I said I’m fine. Stop looking at me like I’m about to collapse.” His siblings exchanged uneasy glances. Grace sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her eyes still red from crying. Edward stood tall and composed as always, but even he had not hidden the panic in his eyes earlier. “I’m serious,” Nathan added, softer now. “It was just a scare. See? Aren't I standing here instead of that plane crash? Stop worrying!” A long silence followed. Then one by one, his siblings began to leave, after telling him they would be back to check up on him. They left not because they weren’t worried, but because Nathan had always been the st