All Chapters of A Second Chance with My Husband in the Past: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Anastasia's hand cracked across Charlotte's face with vicious force, the slap echoing off the warehouse's grimy walls like a gunshot. Charlotte's head snapped sideways, her lip splitting open—a sharp bloom of blood trickling from the corner, warm and metallic on her tongue. She was bound tight to a rusted metal chair, wrists chafed raw by coarse ropes that bit into her skin, her body aching from the abduction's rough handling.Anastasia loomed before her, elegant even in the dim filth, a smirk curling her lips like a predator savoring the kill. Charlotte met her gaze, eyes blazing through the pain, unyielding."This is for the slap you gave me," Anastasia hissed, venom dripping from every word. "Now you'll pay for every insult." Her hand reared back and struck again—harder, a stinging fire that rattled Charlotte's teeth and freshened the blood flow.Helpless, Charlotte strained against the ropes, fury boiling but muscles spent; she could do nothing but glare, breath ragged. Anastasia

Charlotte watched them go—Howard's arm around Anastasia, vanishing through the warehouse door like ghosts of betrayal. Shattered once more, he chose his sister over her again, the pattern etched in blood and tears. Hope guttered out like a snuffed flame; she knew what came next—death's shadow looming for her and the fragile life within. But her child... she had to fight, to shield that spark somehow.Jeremy's smirk slithered across his face as he turned to her, eyes raking her bound form with predatory glee. He prowled closer, leaning in until his breath fouled the air between them—reeking of cheap triumph. A finger grazed her cheek, slow and deliberate, tracing the drying blood from her split lip.Revulsion surged, bile rising in her throat; she jerked her head away, skin crawling under his touch. "Get your filthy hands off me," she hissed, her voice steel despite the tears pricking her eyes.Daisy edged forward instinctively, knife forgotten, horror twisting her features—but Jeremy'

Eliot erupted, face purple with rage, slamming his fist into the wall. "She murdered my father? That snake in our home—I'll see her rot. " Veins bulged in his neck.Karla clutched Eliot, tears streaming, but her eyes burned with betrayal. Howard gripped the pendrive like a lifeline, shock rooting him—Grandpa.Ryan turned to Officer Matthew with a nod of gratitude. "Thanks to you, Matt. You helped me spread the fake news of Daisy's 'death' to keep her safe from her attacker.""We tracked her location and nailed Jeremy's hideout. That's how we caught him."He paused, his voice heavy with regret. "But we failed Charlotte. Now she's fighting for her life in there."Howard finally shattered. Tears carved tracks through the grime on his face as he buried his head in his hands. "How the hell did I trust Anastasia? Blame Charlotte—my wife—for her lies? Sobs wracked him, regret twisting like a blade. He lifted his gaze to Matthew, eyes hardening through the pain. "Arrest Anastasia. Now. Make s

Ryan’s eyes darted across the bank of monitors, face pale as he scanned frame after frame of sterile hospital corridors and elevators. Then he froze.“That one,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Stop there.”The nurse standing beside him paused the footage. On screen, a woman in a doctor’s coat but no name badge pushed a wheelchair. The patient’s face was half‑covered by a mask, eyes closed, unmistakably Charlotte.Ryan’s throat tightened. “Where does that elevator go?”The nurse pointed at the call box label. “That one heads to the rooftop. Staff only.”Ryan’s eyes widened. He snatched his phone, fingers flying.“Howard!” he barked into the device. “Rooftop! She took Charlotte to the rooftop—right now! Don’t waste a second!”Howard bolted without a word, boots slamming against the linoleum as he sprinted for the elevator. But a staff member blocked his path, slapping a yellow "RESTRICTED: ELEVATOR OUT OF SERVICE" sign across the doors. "Sir, you can't—""Out of my way!" Howard barked, s

Sunlight streamed through the penthouse kitchen as Charlotte flipped pancakes, the aroma of bacon and coffee filling the air. She hummed softly, glowing from last night's passion, wearing a simple sundress that hugged her figure.Howard padded in shirtless, routine kicking in—he swept her into his arms for a deep "good morning" kiss on the lips, his hands lingering on her hips. "Morning, gorgeous. Smells amazing—as always."She smiled, swatting him playfully. "Sit, breakfast's ready."He dropped into a chair just as their precious miracle, four-year-old Mirabel, toddled in clutching her fluffy panda stuffy. "Good morning, Daddy! Good morning, Mommy!" she chirped, climbing onto her booster seat with a grin."Morning, princess!" Howard scooped her up for a bear hug, tickling her belly. Charlotte set plates down—pancakes stacked high, syrup dripping. "Eat up, my loves."Mid-bite, Mirabel's eyes widened innocently. "Mommy, why were you screaming so loud last night? Like, 'Oh Howard, yes!