All Chapters of The Ex-wife's Secret Empire: Beg For Me, Mr Blackwood : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

122 Chapters

Chapter Thirty-One

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐚 The morning air in the Italian alleyway was suddenly too thin and too cold. Maya stood frozen with her hand still locked in Lucian’s, watching Victoria Sterling as if she were a viper coiled in a garden of lilies. The orange glow of the streetlamps caught the diamond-encrusted watch on Victoria’s wrist with a timepiece that cost more than a small country's annual budget. "Immortality?" Lucian’s voice was like a grinding stone. He stepped forward, his body shielding Maya with a primal, protective instinct that no model-programming could ever mimic. "You’re talking about my children as if they're vintage wine. We just finished burning one empire to the ground, Victoria. Don’t think for a second we won't start on yours." Victoria didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. She merely adjusted the silk wrap around her shoulders with her smile remaining as polished and immovable as marble. "Twelve, please. Your bravado was charming when you were

Chapter Thirty-two

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 The mountain didn't just shake; it roared. The sound was a deep, guttural grinding of tectonic plates being forced apart by something far more precise than nature. As the violet-eyed machine; a titan of steel and pulsing circuitry tore through the Alpine forest, the very foundations of the Sterling estate began to groan. Maya clutched the edge of the shattered window frame with her white knuckles. The air rushing into the room was frigid, smelling of pine needles and scorched metal. Beside her, Lucian was already moving, his instincts overriding the shock. He grabbed a heavy piece of fallen masonry and jammed it into the mechanism of the heavy oak door, preventing the electronic locks from resetting. "Victoria!" Maya shouted over the roar. "What is that thing?" Victoria Sterling stood in the center of the room, her elegant composure finally shattered. Her eyes were fixed on the machine rising from the woods. "It’s a Harvester. Silas Thorne’s fin

Chapter Thirty-three

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 The sky over the Alps didn't just darken; it bruised. The transition from the pristine white of the mountain peaks to the deep, unnatural purple of the descending fleet happened in the space of three ragged breaths. Maya stood in the knee-deep snow with the burner phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the dial tone that sounded like a funeral bell. "Maya, we have to move. Now!" Lucian’s voice was sharp, cutting through the hypnotic horror of the horizon. He grabbed her arm, his boots slipping on the icy scree as he pulled her toward a cluster of jagged rocks that offered the only cover from the overhead sensors. The black shapes weren't ships not in the traditional sense. They were "Needles," long, slender pillars of carbon-fiber and light-bending glass that plummeted through the atmosphere without the friction of heat. They didn't land; they impaled the earth. Three miles away, a Needle slammed into a lower ridge. The shockwave rolled ac

Chapter Thirty-four

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐮𝐠-𝐨𝐟-𝐖𝐚𝐫 The bunker's sterile air felt like it was being sucked out through a vacuum. Maya collapsed onto the cold, industrial floor with her fingers clawing at the metal as a sensation of white-hot iron being dragged through her abdomen took hold. It wasn't just a cramp; it was a physical extraction. The shadow-child in the pod wasn't using a machine; she was using her own existence as a biological magnet. "Stop it! You're killing her!" Lucian roared. He lunged toward the pod and his arm outstretched to grab the small, violet-eyed girl, but an invisible wall of kinetic force slammed into his chest. He was thrown backward, his body crashing into a rack of server monitors that exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. The girl; the Heiress didn't move. She didn't even blink. She just tilted her head, watching Maya’s agony with a terrifying and detached curiosity. "I’m not killing her Husband Model. I’m just reclaiming the hardware. They don’t belong

Chapter Thirty-five

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 The air inside the Root was thick, tasting of copper and ancient, sunless earth. Maya struggled to breathe as the impact from the pod’s crash landing still rang in her skull like a heavy bell. She looked up from the floor, her vision swimming, to see the man who shouldn't be there. Arthur Vance. Or something that wore his skin. He didn't look like the dying old man she had seen in the warehouse. This version was taller, his posture straight, his face smoothed of every wrinkle. He looked as if he had been dipped in the same serum that had preserved Elena; unnatural, eternal, and cold. "Father?" Maya’s voice cracked. "The biological version of your father is buried under a mountain in Switzerland, Maya," the man said in a perfect voice with a terrifying resonance. "I am the Prime Archive. I am the memory of Arthur Vance, refined and uploaded into the only vessel capable of holding the Root’s core." He jerked the leash in his hand. Maya let out

Chapter Thirty-six

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 The sand of the beach was cool and damp beneath Maya’s palms with a stark reality after the shifting, digital nightmares of the Root. She stayed on her knees, the small wooden bird clutched so tightly in her hand that the grain pressed into her skin. The salt air stung her eyes, or perhaps it was the tears that refused to stop falling even as the world around her turned gold with the dawn. The lead ship which is a magnificent vessel of white and chrome dropped anchor with a heavy, grounding splash. A smaller transport boat lowered into the surf cutting through the waves toward the shore. Maya’s breath hitched. She watched the man standing at the bow. He wasn't the shimmering perfect version of a model. He moved with a slight, human hitch in his step. His suit was wrinkled from travel, and his hair was tossed by the wind in a way that no computer could ever simulate. As the boat hit the shallows, the man jumped out with his boots splashing i

Chapter Thirty-seven

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 The tranquility of the Tuscan morning felt like a carefully constructed lie. Maya stood by the nursery window, watching the mist cling to the olive groves in heavy, silver shrouds, but her mind was anchored like a quarter-million miles away. The whisper she had heard the night before that chilling, electronic lilt still echoed in the marrow of her bones, a reminder that the silence of the moon was never truly empty. She looked down at the two mahogany cribs. Lucian had spent the long, quiet weeks of her third trimester hand-carving them with his fingers moving with a human clumsiness that he seemed to cherish. They were empty for now, draped in soft cream linens, waiting for the arrival that was only days away. But as Maya watched, a single, violet-colored petal from a nearby vase of hydrangeas drifted through the air. It didn't fall with the chaos of nature; it spiraled with mathematical precision, landing perfectly in the center of the fi

Chapter Thirty-eight

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 The silence that followed the departure of H.R. Bell was heavier than the scream that had preceded it. In the distance, the Tuscan hills continued to roll in waves of green and gold, indifferent to the fact that the sky over the English Channel was currently being pierced by a nightmare. Maya lay on the sun-warmed stones of the terrace as her breath came in shallow and jagged hitches. The golden light of Italy felt mocking now. Beside her, Lucian was a heap of mangled linen and suppressed agony. His arm was set at an impossible angle, the bone fractured by a woman who looked like a librarian but hit like a hydraulic press. "Lucian..." Maya’s voice was a dry rattle. He didn't answer with words. He groaned, the sound vibrating with the mechanical grit of a processor trying to reboot. Slowly and agonizingly, he pushed himself up with his good arm. His face was a mask of cold sweat with his blue eyes flickering with a desperate, dyin

Chapter Thirty-nine

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 The wind howling off the English Channel was no longer the salt-heavy breeze of the Atlantic. It had become a pressurized roar, vibrating with the hum of a billion microscopic circuits. As Maya stood at the edge of the cliff, the glowing bridge of Sterling platforms pulsed beneath the rhythmic beat of the helicopters overhead. Each platform shimmered with a pale and artificial light, a path of digital breadcrumbs leading straight into the heart of the obsidian spire. "The platforms are anchored to the vortex's gravity," Seven shouted over the gale with her eyes locked on the scanning device in her hand. "If the spire shifts its rotation, the bridge will collapse. Maya, we have to move now." Lucian stepped forward, his broken arm strapped tightly to his chest with a makeshift sling. In his good hand, he gripped the Star-Link override core; the heavy silver sphere that was their only hope of trapping a ghost. His face was ghostly pale, his ja

Chapter Forty

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 The hiss of the vacuum was not a sudden burst, but a high-pitched, predatory scream that set Maya’s teeth on edge. As the jagged crack in the spire’s obsidian wall widened, the pressurized air of the inner sanctum began to bleed out into the thin, freezing atmosphere of the upper altitudes. It sounded like the world was exhaling its final breath. Maya lay on the vibrating floor, her body caught in the crossfire of two god-like signals that were using her nervous system as a battlefield. The violet hunger of the Heiress was a cold, jagged ice in her veins, a calculated chill that sought to freeze her empathy into pure logic. But the golden light radiating from Elena was a sunburst; warm, ancient, and fiercely protective, smelling of old library books and the salt air of the Mediterranean. Elena Vance stood in the center of the chaos, the cables at the base of her skull snapping like whipcord as she tore herself away from the mainframe

1 2 3 4 5 6

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP