All Chapters of HIS POISONOUS POSSESSION: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

[The Red Bridge]The drive away from the melting monastery felt like fleeing the end of the world. The SUV cut through the alpine fog, its tires churning through a slurry of white ash and silver runoff. Inside the cabin, the silence was a living thing—heavy, suffocating, and charged with the residual electricity of Dante’s transformation.Dante gripped the steering wheel with hands that still shimmered with an iridescent, marble-like sheen. He didn't look at the road; he looked at Ivy through the rearview mirror, his gaze a molten, golden tether that refused to let her go. In the back seat, Isabella sat in a terrifyingly calm silence, her silver eyes fixed on the red string that only she and Dante seemed to fully perceive—a line of light bleeding from Dante’s chest and trailing out the window toward the southern horizon."Stop looking at me like I’m a ghost, Ivy," Dante said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook the dashboard. "I am more real than I have ever been. I can feel

[The Blood of the Warden]The air in the study turned not just cold but suffocating, stagnant—like breathing in the dust of a grave sealed for centuries. And in the doorway, carved from the flickering shadows, stood the woman Dante had kept buried within the palazzo’s bones.Eleonora Moretti. She was a ghost of a matriarch, her face a terrifying map of the same aristocratic beauty that defined Dante, but etched with a madness that had fermented in the dark. Beside her, Isabella stood with a frighteningly blank expression, the silver surgical scissors clutched in her small hand like a holy relic."You brought her back here," Eleonora rasped, her voice a dry rattle that seemed to scrape against the walls. She stepped into the room, her tattered red gown trailing behind her like a river of dried blood. "You brought the rot back into the sanctuary, Da

[The White Room]The descent didn't end in a crash. It ended in a hum—a low, clinical vibration that made the back of Ivy’s skull ache.The Venetian marble, the scent of sea salt, and the weight of the red silk gown dissolved into a blinding, antiseptic white. The air was no longer thick with the musk of Dante’s skin; it was filtered, chilled, and carried the sharp tang of medical-grade disinfectant.Ivy gasped, her lungs burning as if they were learning to breathe for the first time. She tried to sit up, but her limbs were leaden, pinned down by the heavy, dull ache of long-term muscle atrophy. Thin, translucent tubes—the "mercury" of the simulation—ran from her forearms into a sleek console at the bedside."Easy, Subject 02," a voice said. It was Silas Vane.

[The Thirteenth Hour]The red warning lights of the laboratory didn't just flash; they pulsed like a dying heart. The floor beneath Ivy’s bed continued to hum, a low-frequency vibration that rattled her teeth and made the "Cradle" inside her womb throb with a sickening, mechanical rhythm.Dante stood between her and the glass wall of the docking bay, his real-world body trembling with a mixture of withdrawal and a feral, protective instinct. The "White Room" was glitching. For a split second, the clinical walls would vanish, replaced by the damp, moss-covered stones of the Venetian cellar. The scent of disinfectant fought with the smell of rotting lilies."The Thirteenth Hour," Dante whispered, his voice a jagged rasp. He looked at the digital clock on the wall—13:00&mda

[The Architect's Edge]The basement was no longer a sanctuary; it was a throat, and the world was swallowing them whole. The clockwork gears behind the translucent stone walls groaned with a sound like grinding teeth, each revolution shaking the white sand beneath Ivy’s feet.Dante stood over her, the silver scissors held low at his side. The gold light in his eyes didn't look like divinity anymore; it looked like a fever, a terminal infection of the soul. He wasn't looking at the woman-Isabella or the specter of his mother. He was looking at Ivy’s throat, where her pulse was jumping like a trapped bird."The loop is screaming, Dante," Eleonora said, her voice a cruel caress. "You can feel it, can't you? The code is trying to decide if you are the Master or the Virus. If you don't take the heart from the Prize, the system will delete the Prize to save the King.""Shut up," Dante hissed. He didn't turn around. He reached down and grabbed the collar of Ivy’s wet dress, hauling her up un