บททั้งหมดของ Savage Reborn: Dumped Him to Marry the Billionaire: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

St. Jude’s Chapel. The Outskirts of Sector 3.The First Timeline. Seven Years Ago.It smelled of damp wool and stale incense.Vespera Thorne stood in the vestibule of the small, drafty church, clutching a bouquet of white roses that were already beginning to brown at the edges.She had bought them herself from a grocery store an hour ago. Lysander had promised to order the flowers, but he had "forgotten" amidst the stress of his failing business deals.It’s okay, Vespera told herself, shivering as a cold draft swept under the door. He’s busy. He’s building our future. The flowers don't matter. The love matters.She looked down at her dress.It wasn't a Vera Wang. It wasn't a custom silk masterpiece from Paris. It was polyester blend, bought off the rack at a discount bridal outlet. Vespera had spent the last three nights awake, pricking her fingers with a needle, taking in the waist and adding lace trim to hide a stain on the hem.Her fingers were still sore. Band-aids were hidden und

The Thorne Estate. The Dining Room.First Timeline. Five Years Ago.The dining room was a cavern of mahogany and silence.A crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting a fractured, cold light onto the table. It was set for four, but only three people were sitting.Lysander Thorne sat at the head, scrolling through his tablet.His mother, Beatrice Thorne, sat to his right, inspecting her spoon like it was a murder weapon.Elara, the "Executive Assistant" who practically lived at the house, sat to his left.Vespera was standing.She was wearing a maid’s apron over her simple grey dress. She held a heavy silver tureen of mushroom soup. Her arms trembled under the weight."Dinner is served," Vespera whispered.She ladled the soup into Beatrice’s bowl.Beatrice watched the grey liquid splash into the china. She sniffed it. She wrinkled her nose, which was caked in expensive powder."It smells burnt," Beatrice announced."I... I followed the recipe exactly, Mother," Vespera stammered. "It's a

The Space Between Seconds.Location: Nowhere.Time: Irrelevant.The sound of twisting metal had been deafening. A symphony of destruction that tore the world apart.But here, there was no sound.There was no rain. No screeching tires. No cold. No pain.There was only White.Vespera Thorne floated in an endless, milk-white expanse. She had no body, yet she felt heavy. She had no eyes, yet she could see everything.It was peaceful. It was the kind of silence she had craved for five years in the Thorne mansion—a silence that wasn't pregnant with criticism or laced with lies. It was a silence that simply was.Is this it? she thought. The thought didn't echo; it was absorbed. Is this death?It wasn't scary. It felt like sinking into a warm bath after a long, freezing walk."You are tired," a Voice said.It didn't come from above or below. It vibrated through the fabric of the whiteness. It wasn't male or female. It was ancient. It sounded like the ocean floor."You have carried a mountain

The Citadel of Obsidian. The Deep Undercroft.One Hour Later.The walls of the Undercroft were etched with runes that hadn't glowed in a thousand years. Now, they pulsed with a sickly, violet rhythm, like the heartbeat of a dying star.Vespera stood in the center of a chalk circle. Her black dress was torn at the hem, ruined during their retreat from the Throne Room.Lysander and his "Army of Light" had been pushed back to the courtyard, but the Holy Sword was a problem. It cut through Vespera’s shadow magic like a hot knife through butter."We cannot hold them forever," Vespera said, her voice echoing in the stone chamber. "Lysander draws power from the Sun God. As long as it is day, he is invincible."Cyprian stood outside the circle, leaning on his massive greatsword. He had cleaned the holy blood off his armor, but the smell of ozone and singed steel still clung to him."So we wait for nightfall," Cyprian grunted. "I can hold the door.""You can't," Vespera corrected. "The Holy Sw

The Plains of Ash.The Battle of the Eclipse.The battlefield was no longer a stalemate. It was a slaughterhouse.The revelation of Elara’s true form had shattered the morale of the Legion of Light, but fear was a potent fuel. The captains, desperate to silence the truth, ordered a total assault."Kill the Witch!" they screamed. "Kill the witness!"Ten thousand soldiers surged forward, a tidal wave of steel and fanaticism.On the ground, Cyprian dropped his visor. The world narrowed to a slit of violence."Malphas," Cyprian growled to the dragon. "Keep the infantry busy. I have a date with a Hero.""SQUISHY HUMANS," Malphas roared, unleashing a torrent of magma-breath that melted the front line into slag.Cyprian didn't watch. He launched himself forward. He moved with unnatural speed, a blur of black steel powered by Vespera’s mana.He cut through the ranks like a scythe through wheat. His massive greatsword, usually slow and cumbersome, swung with the speed of a rapier.Shadow Step.