Semua Bab A Bride For Revenge : Bab 21 - Bab 30

The silence in the Logan penthouse was no longer a luxury; it was the heavy, suffocating weight that precedes a landslide.Olivia stood in the foyer, her phone a cold slab in her hand, as the world she had fought to protect crumbled into dust.Through the principal, Olivia finally reached the Bernards. The call was a jagged collision of two worlds breaking apart in real-time."I don't have her," Olivia whispered into the receiver, her voice cracking as she leaned against the cold marble wall for support. "Chloe is gone, too. My sister... she’s missing."On the other end, Mrs. Bernard let out a sound that wasn't quite a cry….it was a visceral jagged wail.The two women, strangers bound by a shared tragedy, wept together in a raw, unfiltered symphony of grief. Olivia’s tears were silent and hot, soaking into the emerald silk of her dress.The heavy, lonely burden of being the "strong one" finally snapped. The image of Chloe - fearful and trapped - made Olivia’s knees give out.She sank

The air in the hallway is thick with the scent of Vivian’s perfume and the cold, metallic sting of betrayal.The silence following the sound of the shattering vase is deafening, a jagged edge cutting through the lust-filled haze of the bedroom.Olivia doesn't scream. She doesn't even gasp. The sight of her husband in the clutches of the woman who has been hunting him is just another blow in a night defined by pain.She takes her bag and simply turns. Her movements are robotic, fueled by a singular, burning purpose: Chloe.She bolts toward the private garage, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the marble.The image of Aiden’s flushed face and Vivian’s exposed skin flashes in her mind, but she shoves it into a dark corner of her brain. She doesn't have the luxury of a broken heart.She reaches the garage and lunges for the nearest car - a silver SUV Aiden rarely uses. She slides into the driver’s seat, her hands trembling as she fumbles with the ignition.Her phone pings. She checks

The kitchen is a tomb, and the air is thick with the copper tang of fresh blood and the smell of old dust. Olivia remains on her knees, her hands still pressed against Weiller’s cooling skin.Her mind is a fractured mess of images: the familiarity of the knife, the pool of blood, and the look of pure terror in the dead man’s eyes.Suddenly, the oppressive silence is shattered by a sound that should bring relief, but instead feels like a physical blow to her chest. Wail. Wail. Wail.Blue and red lights dance frantically against the boarded-up windows, filtering through the cracks in the wood like strobe lights in a nightmare."Thank God," Olivia thinks, her breath hitching in a sob of pure exhaustion. "The police are here. They can take the body. They can trace the knife. They can find Chloe."She starts to stand, her dress heavy and wet with Weiller's blood, when a deafening crash echoes through the house.The front door is kicked open with such force that the hinges scream."POLICE!

The police cruiser, carrying the lead detective and the trembling Bernards, kicks up a thick plume of dust that clings to the dry weeds lining the path.Inside the vehicle, the air is thick with Lisa Bernard’s frantic prayers and the sharp, metallic scent of anxiety.They are following the breadcrumbs left by a weary taxi driver, heading toward a ghost of a house that has suddenly become the center of a nightmare.As the cruiser nears the desolate coordinates, the hum of their engine is suddenly drowned out by a ferocious, high-pitched roar.A silver Mercedes-AMG streaks past them like a bullet, a blur of polished metal and screaming tires. The speed is reckless, suicidal.It swerves dangerously close to the police vehicle, kicking up a blinding wall of grit and sand that hammers against the windshield."Hey! What the hell is wrong with you, man?" the lead officer shouts, slamming his palm against the steering wheel as he swerves to maintain control. "Death wish! He’s got a damn death

The driver rolls down the window just an inch. Aiden catches a glimpse of a familiar shock of blonde hair and a cold, piercing blue eye.It’s Vivian Sumall. She isn't here to report the news; she’s the one who called the journalists. And as she catches Aiden’s eye, she raises a single finger to her lips and blows him a mocking kiss before the van suddenly begins to roll backward, preparing to flee.KIDNAPPERS WAREHOUSE The air inside the warehouse is thick with the smell of mildew, stale tobacco, and the metallic tang of old machinery.Dust motes dance in the sickly orange glow of a single hanging bulb that sways slightly, casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor.Chloe sits bound to a rusted metal chair, her wrists burning where the zip-ties have bitten into her skin. Every muscle in her body is coiled tight, a spring ready to snap.She isn't watching the door. She isn't watching the shadows. Her entire world has shrunk to the sound of the rhythmic, agonizing whist