All Chapters of Savage Reborn: Dumped Him to Marry the Billionaire: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The Imperial Palace. The Grand Ballroom.Night of the Selection.The ballroom was a kaleidoscope of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and desperate ambition.Vespera Thorne stood at the top of the marble staircase.In her previous life—the one that ended with poison—she had worn grey. She had walked with her head down, grateful to be noticed.Tonight, she wore crimson.The dress was a scandal. It was cut low across the shoulders, the silk glowing like fresh blood under the candlelight. Her dark hair was swept up, pinned with a dagger-like ornament of obsidian.She didn't descend the stairs; she poured herself down them.The murmurs started instantly."Is that the Thorne daughter?""Why is she wearing red? Only the Royal Family wears vivid colors.""She looks... terrifying."Vespera reached the floor. She snapped her fan open.She scanned the room.To her left, the gaggle of debutantes. Among them, Elara Vance, wearing white, looking doe-eyed and fragile. In the last timeline, Vespera ha

The Northern Territory. The Ironhold.Three Months Later.The smoke rising from the chimneys of the Ironhold was black, thick, and constant.To the people of the Capital, black smoke meant filth. To the people of the North, it meant life.Inside the castle walls, the air had changed. The biting, frost-laden chill that usually permeated the stone had been chased away. The "Black Stone"—coal—burned hotter and longer than wood. The Great Hall was toasty. The barracks were warm. Children no longer woke up with frost in their hair.But the real miracle was happening in the South Courtyard.Vespera stood knee-deep in soil.She was wearing a simple wool dress, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were caked in dark, rich earth.Around her rose a structure that had baffled the local carpenters: a skeleton of iron ribs, filled in not with stone, but with glass.It was a greenhouse. But not the flimsy, decorative kind used by the Southern nobility for their orchids. This was an indust

The Royal Palace. The Saintess’s Solar.The Next Morning.The invitation had arrived at dawn.It was written on cream-colored paper, scented with rosewater.Dearest Sister,Please join me for a private tea. I wish to apologize for the misunderstanding at the ball. Let us mend our bond before you return to the North.Love, Elara.Cyprian had crumpled the paper in his fist. "It’s a trap. I’ll burn the solar down.""Of course it’s a trap," Vespera had replied, smoothing the collar of her black dress. "But if I don't go, she wins. She paints me as the unforgiving, savage sister. I must go. And I must smile."Now, Vespera stood in the doorway of the Solar.It was a beautiful room, walled with glass, overlooking the Imperial Gardens. It was filled with white lilies—Elara’s signature flower. The scent was overwhelming, cloying and sweet like a funeral parlor.Elara sat at a small, round table draped in lace. She wore a dress of pale pink chiffon, looking every bit the innocent Saintess."Ves

Six Months Later.The War Tent. The Northern Front.The map of the Empire was bleeding.On the parchment spread across the table, black ink—representing the Northern Army—had swallowed the map. It had poured down from the mountains, flooded the valleys, and was now pooling at the very throat of the Capital.Vespera stood over the map. She moved a wooden marker."The Southern supply lines are cut," she stated. Her voice was cool, detached. "The Capital is starving. Bread riots started three days ago."Cyprian stood beside her. He was cleaning his sword. He hadn't been out of his armor in weeks. He smelled of horse, iron, and smoke."Lysander is desperate," Cyprian said. "He executed two of his generals yesterday for 'cowardice'. He's running out of people to blame.""A cornered rat bites," Vespera noted. "But a cornered narcissist makes mistakes."She pointed to a narrow pass on the map. The Valley of Mist."We gave him the bait," Vespera said. "Our 'captured' spy told him that our mai

The Imperial Capital.One Year Later.The city didn't smell like rot anymore. It smelled of baking bread, coal smoke, and flowers.In the year since the Rebellion, the Capital had been transformed. The jagged scars of the siege had been repaired, not with grey stone, but with Vespera’s signature iron and glass.Greenhouses dotted the city rooftops, glittering like diamonds in the sun. The "Black Stone" from the North now fueled the public bathhouses and the bakeries. The price of grain had dropped so low that even the poorest beggar had a full belly.It was the Golden Age. And it was forged in iron.The Royal Palace. The Main Balcony.The Coronation Anniversary."Long live the Empress! Long live the Wolf!"The roar of the crowd was a physical force. It washed over the balcony, louder than thunder, filled with genuine, raucous adoration.Vespera stood by the marble railing.She wore a gown of deep midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread that traced the constellations. On her head