บททั้งหมดของ Savage Reborn: Dumped Him to Marry the Billionaire: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Club Obsidian. Downtown Neo-Veridia.11:00 PM.The bass dropped, shaking the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the VIP skybox.Altair Hale sat on a black leather sofa, entirely alone.On the table in front of him sat a glass of sparkling water (untouched) and a holographic tablet (active). While the rest of the city’s elite gyrated to the music below, Altair was re-coding the firewall for the Asia-Pacific server.He checked his watch. He had promised the Twins he would show his face for thirty minutes to "maintain social currency." He had been here twenty-eight minutes."You look lonely."The voice was smoky, practiced, and drenched in expensive perfume.Altair didn't look up from his tablet. "I'm not lonely. I'm working.""At a club?"The woman slid onto the sofa next to him. She moved with a calculated fluidity.Altair finally glanced up.She was stunning, objectively speaking. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and wearing a dress made of crimson silk that left very little to the imagination.A

Twenty-Five Years Ago.The Hale Fortress. Penthouse Office.The scotch in the crystal tumbler cost five thousand dollars a bottle.It tasted like amber-colored boredom.Cyprian Hale stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, looking down at Neo-Veridia. It was raining—a relentless, grey drizzle that turned the city into a blurred watercolor painting.From up here, the people were ants. The cars were toys. The buildings were just assets he either owned or planned to destroy.He took a sip of the scotch. He felt nothing.At thirty years old, he had conquered the mountain. He was the "Wolf of the Underworld." He had destroyed his father’s enemies, tripled the family fortune, and secured a monopoly on the city’s logistics.And he was bored out of his mind."Sir."The voice came from the shadows near the door. Oryn.Cyprian didn't turn around. "Tell me something interesting, Oryn. If you tell me the Q3 projections are up again, I’m going to throw this glass through the window.""T

Veridia Academy.Monday Morning, 07:55 AM.Vespera Thorne stood at the main gates of Veridia Academy, a clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield.She was the Student Council President. Her uniform was immaculate. Her skirt was exactly two inches above the knee (per the handbook). Her blazer was buttoned. Her tie was perfectly knotted."Shirt untucked. Warning," Vespera said, checking a name off her list as a terrified freshman scurried past. "Running in the hallway. Detention.""You're ruthless, Pres," her vice-president (a younger, bespectacled Oryn) muttered, adjusting his glasses."I’m efficient," Vespera corrected without looking up. "Order is the foundation of—"VROOOM.The roar of an engine shattered the morning quiet.A black motorcycle tore around the corner, ignoring the "Slow Zone" signs. It skidded to a halt right in front of the gate, kicking up a cloud of dust that settled on Vespera’s polished shoes.The rider killed the engine. He kicked the stand down.Slowly, del

The Hale Fortress. Main Kitchen.02:00 AM.The kitchen was a gleaming expanse of stainless steel and black marble, usually reserved for the personal chefs. But at this hour, the chefs were asleep.The Fortress was locked down. The perimeter sensors were active. The threat level was Green.Oryn stood at the center island.He was wearing his standard tactical pants, combat boots, and a black compression shirt that highlighted the roadmap of scars on his arms.Over this ensemble, he wore a frilly, pastel pink apron that said "Kiss the Cook."Oryn adjusted his stance. Feet shoulder-width apart. Core engaged.In his massive hand, he held a piping bag filled with lavender-infused buttercream frosting."Target acquired," Oryn whispered.He lowered the tip to the surface of the vanilla bean cupcake.Squeeze. Rotate. Lift.A perfect rosette formed. Symmetrical. Sharp edges. Flawless structural integrity.Oryn exhaled slowly."Visual confirmation," he muttered, inspecting the swirl. "Acceptable

Location: The Void / The Interview Room.Time: The End.The lights flickered on with a distinct electrical hum.It wasn't the warm, golden light of the Italian villa or the cold, blue light of the Hale Fortress. It was the bright, unforgiving white of a studio set.In the center of the room sat a plush, velvet sofa—red, naturally.Vespera Hale walked onto the set. She looked immaculate, wearing the iconic red dress from the gala chapter, though her expression was one of amused tolerance.Cyprian Hale followed her. He was adjusting his cufflinks, looking at the camera lens with deep suspicion."I don't like this room," Cyprian grumbled, sitting down next to her. "It has no exits. And I can't buy the building because it doesn't legally exist.""Relax, Wolf," Vespera said, patting his knee. "It’s the exit interview. We just have to answer a few questions from the 'Readers,' and then we can go back to being retired."Cyprian scowled at the camera. "Fine. But if anyone asks about the bottl