All Chapters of Revenge of the Silver Blood Heiress: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

123 Chapters

Chapter 111: I am Going to Die

[Natasha's POV]I was seated within the space. I hear laughter coming from the conversation going on outside the window. Really, I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm not sure how much longer it will be until I hear approaching footsteps. The sound of footsteps ends at the hut's entryway. As I turned to face them, I saw Lucas. I have no idea how either of us got here. I attacked him the moment he stepped inside the hut. I was drenched for reasons I cannot fathom. My fluids are oozing out of my pussy.I took hold of his face and began to abscond with him. I was about to stick my tongue all over his body from how hungry I was. He began attempting to push me away. We were wrestling each other when he said, "Stop! Stop! What are you doing?""Please allow me to kiss you," I pleaded. "Only once. Take care of me; I'm not sure why I'm feeling that way. I had no idea that I could talk like this without having any other thoughts. After saying it, I had a slight sorrow, but I kept kissing Lucas u

Chapter 112: It Wants Your Attention

[Natasha's POV]"Lucas....ummm," It took me a minute to say anything. His eyes were worried as he gazed at me. After something like this, I was generally the first to go, but he's been really encouraging of my work and the things that went on in between. I felt that I ought to give him a reason."You're kind of right." He scowled and regarded my words for a time before shaking his head. We sat there in quiet for a time, staring across the room at something that was no longer there while he remained silent.I finally turned to face him again, and saw how concerned he was. His glittering, wide eyes spoke it all. It was easy to figure out what Lucas was thinking at this point because he's always been sensitive about stuff like this too. "I...uhm," I stammered out as I attempted to think of the appropriate approach to begin this conversation. I wasn't used to having to deal with things like this, to not having someone who could relate to me and understand what I was saying."You okay, Nata

Chapter 113: I Love You

[Natasha's POV]No, it's not hyperbole. He's dying to get into my body again. He bent down to give me another kiss. I kissed him back, hunger satiating my own heat and moisture from our previous session. I gave him a kiss as though my life relied on it. Our bodies were close to one another. And the answer was yes, it really was. My entire being—mind, heart, and soul—was consumed with the idea of touching him in the manner that I desired. I sighed with delight as his erect cock made contact with my thighs as he pressed his thigh between them.I firmly grasped his hair with my fingers, almost like a vice, and then his tongue slipped into my mouth. It took everything I had not to cry out in desperation as his lips parted and he gently licked at my bottom lip. Much more, fuck me. As soon as his tongue touched my lips, I had the feeling of a hungry lady with food in front of her. I groaned as I gave him a kiss and pressed him closer to my body. He was grazing my back with his hands. As one

Chapter 114: I Have to go, Baby

[Natasha's POV]He is such a wonderful partner to have, I think. I could get used to that. I might be able to get used to this kind of existence for a very long time, maybe even forever. I'm not sure what's in store for us, but as long as we're together, we'll make it through. As a gentle smile grew on my face, I felt my heart skip a beat."I have to go, baby," he said. My stomach dropped. The thought of losing him for even a second left a hollow ache in my chest. I clung tighter, a silent plea, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back. "Just... don't go," I mumbled into his chest, the words muffled by skin. He chuckled, a low, rumbling vibration that I felt more than heard. The sound didn't soothe me. It made my skin prickle with annoyance. He was laughing at my desperation."Only for a little while," he murmured, but his body was already shifting, creating a sliver of cold, empty space between us. The loss of his warmth was a physical pain. I opened my eyes, and the dim light

Chapter 115: My husband

[Natasha's PO]She sighed, a small, sad sound. "The man who lives here. The one you've been seeing." She paused, letting the words hang in the air between us. "My husband."The world tilted on its axis. The word echoed in the sudden, roaring silence in my head. Husband. My brain refused to process it, trying to reject the information like a foreign body. This had to be a mistake. A cruel joke. My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp. I saw the phantom images of our past encounters: the way he’d kissed me, the promises he’d whispered, the possessive way he’d held me. All of it rewrote itself in an instant, transforming from love into a masterpiece of deceit."He… he never said…" I stammered, the words catching in my throat.A bitter, humorless smile touched her lips. "He wouldn't, would he? That's not part of the game for him." She looked past me, into the apartment, her gaze sweeping over the remnants of our passion—his discarded sweatshirt, the tangled sheets on the bed I could jus

Chapter 116: The key is on the table

[Natasha's POV] My bag was by the door, right where I'd left it yesterday. I walked over, my steps slow and deliberate. I didn't bother to check if I'd left anything behind. I didn't want anything that was his. I just wanted out.I opened the door, then paused, my hand on the knob. My gaze fell to the armchair. The key was still under there, a small, metallic piece of a life that wasn't mine to touch. I should leave it. Let him find it, let him wonder. But the thought of it sitting there, a secret I kept for him, felt wrong. It was one last tie to him, one last piece of his life I was holding onto.I crossed the room, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. I knelt by the armchair, my knees protesting, and reached under it. My fingers brushed against the cool metal. I pulled it out, the key feeling heavy in my palm. It wasn't my burden to carry.I stood up and walked to the small entryway table by the door. A single, stark lamp cast a pool of light on its surface. I placed the key

Why do you say that?

[Natasha's POV]The stairs were steep and narrow, each step groaning under my weight. The third door was painted a chipped white, with a simple brass knob. I inserted the key, felt it turn with a gritty resistance, and then, remembering her words, gave the door a firm shove with my shoulder. It swung open with a sigh.The attic room was smaller than I'd imagined, but it was clean. A single bed with a white quilted coverlet was pushed against one wall under a slanted ceiling. A small wooden chair sat in the corner. And there was the window. It was a large, circular window, like a ship's porthole, looking out over the city rooftops. The glass was streaked with the faint traces of rain, but through it, I could see the sprawling expanse of Brooklyn and, in the distance, the glittering jewel box of Manhattan. The room smelled of cedar and clean linen.I dropped my bag on the floor. The sound it made was a soft, final thud. I walked to the window and pressed my forehead against the cool g

Chapter 118: A Lie

[Natasha's POV]I had no answer for that. I just stared at her, the coffee suddenly tasting like ash in my mouth.She smiled, a thin, knowing curve of her lips. "Don't worry. I'm not a threat. I'm just... an observer myself. Name's Anya. I'm an archivist." She extended a hand. It was cool, her grip firm and brief.I took her hand. "Alex," I said, the name feeling strange and foreign on my tongue, a borrowed coat that didn't quite fit. It was the name from the ID in my wallet. A lie.Anya nodded, as if "Alex" was exactly the name she expected. "Well, Alex," she said, releasing my hand. "This city has a lot of seams. A lot of stories hidden in the cracks. Most people walk right over them. But you... you see them, don't you?"I didn't know if it was a question or a warning. I just took another sip of my coffee, the bitter liquid a desperate anchor in a sea that was suddenly churning with questions. This woman, Anya, saw too much. And in a city where I was trying to be invisible, being s

Chapter 119: One Hour

[Natasha's POV] Mrs. Petrova stared at me for a long moment, the garble of the television filling the silence between us. Her gaze wasn't suspicious, not exactly. It was more like that of a jeweler examining a strange, uncut stone, trying to determine if it was glass or diamond. The lines around her eyes tightened, her head tilting just a fraction."Lullabies," she said finally, the word rolling slowly off her tongue. "There are many. For sleeping. For waking. For keeping bad dreams away. For... remembering things you should not forget." The last phrase hung in the air, heavy with implication. She reached for a remote on her cluttered desk and muted the television. The abrupt quiet was profound."Why do you ask about a lullaby?" she said, her voice softer now, the gruffness replaced by something that sounded almost like caution.My grip tightened on the German book. I could show her the note. I could tell her about the sparrow. But Anya's face flashed in my mind, her warning about be

Chapter 120: Bring the book

[Natasha's POV] "Bring the book."The line went dead. I stared at the phone, the silence in the room suddenly deafening. I felt a surge of something new, cutting through the fog of my fear and confusion. It felt like purpose.I stood up and began to move with a clarity I hadn't possessed since waking up in this room. I pocketed the burner phone. I took the note, the fragile paper with its spidery handwriting, and folded it carefully, tucking it into my shoe. I picked up the German book, its weight solid and reassuring in my hands. I looked around the small, sparse room that had been my entire world. The made bed. The chipped mug. The stack of worthless cash. It was a cocoon, and I was about to break out.I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The floorboards groaned under my feet. I listened. Nothing. I walked to the stairs, my steps silent, practiced. I could hear the low murmur of a television from Mrs. Petrova's office on the ground floor. I took the back stairs down, eme

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