บททั้งหมดของ The Heiress in Glass: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 45

The second explosion was worse. It didn’t just shake the mansion—it felt like the entire foundation shifted beneath them. The staircase lurched violently. Vivienne stumbled forward, and Daniel caught her instantly, his arm wrapping around her waist before she could fall. “Daniel—” “I’ve got you.” Dust rained down from the high ceiling like gray snow. Somewhere behind them, glass shattered in a violent cascade. The alarms, already screaming, distorted into something warped and metallic as the building’s systems began failing. Marcus grabbed the railing, trying to keep his balance. “Okay,” he shouted over the chaos, “this is officially past the point of dramatic!” Another thunderous boom echoed from somewhere deep in the mansion’s west wing. The floor trembled again. Daniel’s mind snapped into focus. Explosives. Not random destruction. Controlled demolition. Margaux hadn’t panicked. She had planned this. Daniel spun around. Margaux was gone. The spa

The cabin smelled like dust, old wood, and lake water. Vivienne stepped inside slowly, her eyes fixed on the black envelope sitting in the center of the table. Sunlight from the tall windows cut across the room in pale gold beams, illuminating floating particles in the air. Everything looked untouched. The same rough wooden shelves. The same stone fireplace. The same desk where her father used to sit while she played outside on the dock. Except now— There was Margaux. Not physically. But in the way the room suddenly felt claimed. Daniel stepped in beside her, his eyes scanning every corner automatically. Windows. Doorways. Ceiling beams. Instinct. Protection. Marcus followed last, closing the door behind them quietly before leaning against the wall. “Well,” he muttered, “I officially hate mysterious envelopes.” Vivienne didn’t answer. She walked toward the table slowly. Her name stared back at her from the front of the envelope. Vivienne. Ma

The city felt different. Not quieter, exactly. London was never quiet. Sirens still echoed down distant streets, taxis still splashed through puddles from the night’s rain, and somewhere nearby a train groaned along the tracks. But something in the air had shifted. For the first time in months, Vivienne Laurent woke without fear sitting heavy in her chest. Morning light slipped through the tall windows of Daniel’s apartment, painting soft gold across the bedroom walls. She lay still for a moment, watching dust drift lazily through the sunlight, her mind catching up with reality. No messages. No threats. No shadows waiting around every corner. Just peace. Or something close to it. Beside her, Daniel slept deeply, one arm draped across her waist as if even in sleep he refused to let her go. Vivienne smiled faintly. She carefully turned to face him, studying the quiet strength of his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the dark stubble that had grown overnight, the