Savage Reborn: Dumped Him to Marry the Billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

The Grand Ballroom of the Hotel Aethelgard had been transformed. Rows of gilded chairs faced a raised velvet stage, where a podium stood under a single, blinding spotlight.The air smelled of lilies, old money, and hushed judgment.Vespera sat in the front row, directly to the left of the center aisle. She was a slash of violent crimson in a sea of black tuxedos and beige gowns. Cyprian sat beside her, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair, his presence a silent wall of defense.To the right of the aisle, separated by five feet of carpet that felt like a minefield, sat Lysander Thorne.He looked manic. His tuxedo was expensive, but he wore it like a costume. He was sweating, despite the cool air conditioning. Elara sat next to him, whispering in his ear, her eyes darting toward Vespera’s diamond bracelet with naked envy."Ladies and Gentlemen," the auctioneer announced, his British accent crisp and practiced. "We now come to the highlight of the evening. Lot 49."A hush f

03:14 AM.The time was glowing faintly in red on the digital clock.The room was pitch black, save for the sliver of moonlight cutting through the gap in the velvet curtains. The silence in the Master Suite was absolute, a heavy, comfortable blanket that smelled of cedar and sleep.Vespera was deep in a dreamless slumber, curled on her side, buried under the down duvet.Bzzzt. Bzzzt.The sound was small, but in the silence, it felt like a drill against her skull.The vibration rattled the mahogany nightstand.Vespera groaned, burying her face in the pillow. She swatted blindly at the source of the noise, hoping to knock it off the table so it would die.Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.Relentless.She peeled one eye open, her brain foggy. Who was calling her at three in the morning? Was it an emergency? Had the police returned?She pushed herself up on one elbow, shivering as the cold air hit her bare shoulder. She grabbed the phone, squinting against the blinding blue light of the screen.Caller

The strap of the prosthetic bump was digging into Elara’s skin.It was itchy. It was hot. And it was a ticking time bomb.Elara stood in the reflection of the shop window at the Aethelgard City Center, adjusting her pastel blue maternity dress. She looked radiant. She looked fragile. She looked like the perfect mother-to-be.But underneath the silk, there was only foam padding and lies."Three months," Elara whispered to her reflection, panic clawing at her throat. "I’m supposed to be showing. Lysander keeps asking to go to the doctor. I can't keep faking the ultrasounds."She was trapped. Lysander was ruined. The necklace money was gone. The company was collapsing. If he found out she wasn't pregnant—that she had lied to trap him—he would kill her. Or worse, he would kick her out onto the street with nothing.She needed an exit.She needed a tragedy.A miscarriage would solve everything. It would garner sympathy. It would distract Lysander from his bankruptcy. It would explain why th

Vane Strategy Headquarters. 15:00 PM.Vespera sat in her ergonomic chair, watching the upload progress bar on her main monitor.UPLOADING: 98%..."Are you sure?" Cyprian asked from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, watching her with that familiar mix of awe and concern. "Once you release medical records, you cross a line. Privacy laws...""Privacy laws protect patients," Vespera corrected, her finger hovering over the mouse. "They don't protect criminals who fake medical conditions to frame people for murder."She looked at the file she had prepared.It contained everything. The hacked server logs from Elara’s gynecologist. The real ultrasound scans from yesterday (empty uterus). The receipts for the "Prosthetic Bump - Trimester 2" purchased from a theatrical supply store in London."She tried to send me to prison, Cyprian," Vespera said, her voice devoid of emotion. "She threw herself down a flight of stairs to convince the world I killed a baby. I’m not ruining her priv

The darkness was different this time.It wasn't the void of death. It wasn't the cold, wet asphalt of the street where she had died in her first life.It was soft. It smelled of lavender and cedar.The first thing Vespera felt was a distinct, soothing chill against her burning forehead.She moaned softly, trying to turn her head away from the cold."Easy," a voice murmured from the shadows. "Don't move. You're still running a fever."Vespera peeled her eyes open. Her eyelids felt heavy, like they were weighted with lead.The room was dim, illuminated only by the amber glow of a single nightlight plugged into the wall near the door. She recognized the ceiling—the high, vaulted shadows of the Master Suite in the Hale Fortress.She shifted, and the cool cloth on her forehead slid slightly.A hand reached out to adjust it. A large, rough hand that she knew.Vespera turned her head.Cyprian was sitting in a wingback chair pulled right up to the edge of the bed. He looked nothing like the c