The Billionaire Who Ruined My Wedding のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 161 - チャプター 170

The shot that destroyed the archive terminal had barely stopped echoing before the room exploded into motion. Clara moved first— fast, precise, without hesitation. She drove straight toward the lower vault drawer where the red-stamped file waited half exposed. FINAL CORRECTION AUTHORITY Victor reacted instantly despite the pain tearing through his ribs. He caught Ariana’s wrist as she moved— not to stop her, but to angle her away from Clara’s line of fire. Roman fired once. The bullet hit steel near Clara’s shoulder. She twisted, avoided it, and still kept moving. “Unbelievable woman,” Roman muttered, already repositioning. Lyra dropped to the floor as Marina pulled her beh

For one full second, the archive forgot how to breathe. Even the emergency red lights felt suspended. Victor stared at his father as if language itself had failed. Clara stopped struggling against the operatives. Not because she accepted restraint— but because shock had reached deeper than force. Roman looked from Victor to Clara, then back again. “No,” he said softly. “Absolutely not. We cannot keep discovering siblings like hidden receipts.” No one answered him. Because Clara’s face had changed. For the first time since the night began— not calculated. Not guarded. Something older. Something wounded. Victor’s voice came out

The archive no longer felt defensible. Not after the shooting. Not after the override. Not after names buried for decades had begun waking inside systems none of them could yet see. The vault screen still glowed behind them, the map pulsing faintly in red: Old Saint Dorian Church — Riverside Compound A ruined church. Near the old port district. Half abandoned for years after flood damage. Victor stared at the screen only long enough to memorize the route before turning to the remaining operatives. “How long before outside networks know correction happened?” The lead operative—bleeding but still conscious—pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Some already know.” Roman exhaled.

For a moment, no one moved.The church seemed to narrow around the sound of rain hitting broken stained glass.Clara stood frozen near the aisle, staring upward as though memory itself had stepped down from the balcony wearing a human face.Her mother descended another step.Slow.Composed.A woman whose age had sharpened elegance rather than weakened it.No panic.No guilt visible.Only the kind of calm that belongs to someone who has survived by learning when not to explain too early.Victor kept his weapon raised.Silas did the same.Ariana watched Clara more than the woman.Because Clara—who had held guns, controlled rooms, manipulated inheritances, and survived erasure—now looked dangerously young for one fractured second.“You left,” Clara said.Her voice was low, but the sound inside it carried years.The woman reached the floor.Stopped several feet away.“I was removed before I could return.”Clara laughed once—cold and wounded.“That is a polished version of abandonment.”Th

The first sign was not sound.It was light.A narrow white beam crossed the broken stained-glass window above the stair opening, then vanished.Not random.Not passing traffic.A deliberate sweep.Victor saw it immediately.So did Silas.“Movement outside,” Silas said.Roman, still above near the church entrance, answered from the upper level:“Not one vehicle. At least four.”Then—headlights flooded through the ruined front doors.Long white lines across old stone.The church changed instantly from shelter to target.Victor closed the ledger.Ariana still held the cassette recorder.Marina stood beside the old man—still trying to absorb a father she had never known.Clara’s mother looked toward the stair with no surprise at all.Which Victor noticed immediately.“You expected this.”She met his eyes calmly.“I expected they were already tracking the second vault once the first correction triggered.”Victor’s jaw hardened.“How many?”Before she could answer—Roman shouted from above