All Chapters of Karma's Bride: His Until Death: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“I traded one cell for another,” I say, staring out the black tinted window of the armored SUV as the heavy iron gates swing shut behind us with a deep, echoing clank.The motorcade rolls up a private winding driveway toward a massive glass and limestone estate. It isn't just a mansion—it's a fortress built on a cliff overlooking the ocean. A private medical wing towers over the left side, complete with a full team of doctors in white coats waiting at the front entrance.Theo steps out of the vehicle first, his tall, massive frame blocking out the sun. He opens my door and extends one broad, calloused hand toward me.I look at his hand, then up at his cold, unreadable face. I don't take it. I pull my silk robe tighter around my thin shoulders and swing my feet onto the driveway on my own.“The last cell had iron bars,” Theo says, keeping his hand extended in the air without a single trace of embarrassment. “This one has an ocean view and a private security force. Try to see the differ

“You left these here on purpose,” I say, tossing the slim digital tablet onto the plush white duvet beside my hospital-grade bed.Morning light cuts through the reinforced glass windows, illuminating the bright digital screen. It displays three-year-old entertainment news headlines from the city’s top tabloids.PRECIOUS VANCE EXPOSES KARA’S SECRET AFFAIR.KARA’S DISGRACEFUL EXPULSION FROM THE PERFECTION DESIGN HOUSE.HOW THE HEIRESS PRECIOUS PROTECTED HER EMPIRE FROM A SOCIAL CLIMBER.My stomach churns with a sudden, violent wave of nausea. The chemo drip hanging beside my bed hums quietly, pumping poison through my veins, but the real sickness is sitting right there on the screen.I close my eyes, but the memories rush into my head anyway. I remember the exact cold precision with which I forged those initial text messages three years ago. I remember buying off the junior designer to plant stolen sketches inside Kara’s leather tote bag. I remember sitting back in my executive leather

“Drink it, Precious,” Theo says, his rough voice tight as he holds the small paper cup of dark clear liquid to my trembling lips.I lie in the center of the heavy hospital bed inside Theo’s private estate medical wing, the aggressive chemotherapy IV line burning cold chemical poison directly into my central vein.The doctors warned us before they pushed the plunger twenty minutes ago. My body is already too weak from months of neglect, and the stage four cancer inside me is too angry. These drugs are pure poison designed to kill the monster growing inside my organs before they kill me first.A sudden, violent wave of nausea tears through my stomach. I shove Theo’s hand away and lean over the edge of the mattress.I vomit violently into the stainless steel basin Theo shoves beneath my chin. My ribs ache like they are snapping in half, my vision swimming in blurred red spots as dry, agonizing heaves rip through my chest.Theo doesn't step back. He doesn't call a nurse. He stands directl

“Look at her lie,” I whisper, my body trembling with a cold, hollow rage as I sit in the center of the plush velvet sofa inside Theo’s private estate war room.The eighty-inch television screen on the dark oak wall flashes with live, high-definition camera feeds. It is prime-time television, eight o'clock on a Tuesday evening, and national news anchor Marcus Vance is hosting a special broadcast titled The Kara Peterson Story: Truth Behind the Scandals.Kara sits in the studio armchair wearing a pristine white silk suit, her hair styled in soft waves, her flawless face painted to look exhausted and heartbroken. She dabs a tear from her eye with a delicate lace handkerchief, staring directly into the camera lens with practiced, terrifying innocence.“My heart honestly breaks for Precious,” Kara says into her lapel microphone, her voice trembling on cue. “I loved her like a sister for six years. But mental illness... it is a real, devastating thing. People forget that she faked a pregnan

“He dropped this when they transferred him out of the high-security ward,” Olu gasps, his chest heaving as he slams the front door of the safe house shut behind him.He stands in the center of the sterile, dim living room, dripping rain onto the hardwood floor. His hands shake as he holds out a worn leather wallet. He pulls out a single glossy photograph, its edges bent and faded.I sit on the edge of the leather sofa, wrapping my thin arms tightly around my ribs. My skin is pale, my cheeks hollowed out by the sickness, but my eyes remain locked on my brother.“What is that, Olu?” I ask, my voice barely more than a scratchy whisper.Olu steps closer, extending his hand. “I went through Theo’s leather jacket when the transport guards shoved him into the back of the armored van. This fell out of the hidden pocket inside his lining.”I reach out and take the photograph between my trembling fingers.Three young women stand shoulder to shoulder on a sunlit stone courtyard. On the left is A