The Terminally Ill Villain Supports My Broken Engagement Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Andrea knew what awaited him. A slow death, hours of brutal torture until he’d given up all his secrets. By provoking you, he died a quick death.” I regarded the bloody mess on the floor. “I doubt it was the painless end he’d hoped for.” “Not painless, no,” Felix said, following my gaze. “But fairly quick. Better than he deserved, if you ask me.” I leaned back against the wall, not sure where to go from here. My wife had betrayed me, admitted that she’d rather see me dead, and threatened to kill our baby, if it was even ours. My chest constricted until every breath was a struggle.

Thanks to her and her prompt search for help, I did not have my leg amputated. "Dylan, where is Car--- ma'am Carmelita?" I asked Dylan. I sat down and was promptly supported by the young man. "I can do it, Dylan," I said, so he didn't help but still stood by my side. "The doctor said she's okay, Brother." I was relieved by what Dylan said but was also replaced by nervousness when he said next, "But she hasn't woken up yet." "Huh? Where is she?" I tried to stand up because of what I heard, but suddenly my leg hurt. Even though I intend to take revenge on the woman, I don't want her to die. I will only teach a lesson. I don't want her to die.

"Name your price. I will give you everything." "I do not want your money, Sterling," Lord Aris declared, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute zero. "Your world of corporate scandals, fake divorces, and media circus is exactly what left my niece vulnerable. You are a violent, feral man, and your world is entirely beneath her." Lord Aris held up the glowing vial, delivering the ultimate, soul crushing blow.

The Moretti code for 'Wait for me. The internal conflict was a physical agony. She hated him for the "Sync," for the mother he tried to d******d into her brain, and for the way his love felt like drowning. But the thought of Arthur winning—the thought of being "saved" and returned to the sterile, cold life of a St. Claire heiress—was worse. "I am not your asset," Ivy whispered to the wind. She stood up in the boat, the wood rocking precariously. She looked at the black vial. If she took it, she was committing to the hunt. She was accepting the "Phase Three" reality where love was a terminal game of predator and prey.

I finished, explaining the situation as superficially as I could, avoiding going into detail about the various punishments I'd been subject to, most of which I had nightmares about till date. He looked ready to murder as it was, I didn't want to trigger him more than what was strictly necessary. "That is extremely ridiculous. That man doesn't deserve to be an Alpha. Hell, he doesn't deserve to live. I will fucking end him," Alpha Evan seethed, his teeth clenched, his body shaking with barely concealed rage.

“I’m not a hero.” “I’m the villain remember,” he reminded me with a grin. “All good villains know how to identify heroes.” He turned his attention to the vine, and the plant pulled back, the vines withering, the flowers and leaves falling, until there was nothing but the faintest shadow on the stone to indicate that it had ever existed at all.

Because if this was how it had to end, I wasn't going to die begging. “You’ll have to kill me, Marcus,” I said. “That’s the only way this ends.” "You ungrateful bitch," he spat, his voice sounding sharp and unhinged, the pistol wobbling slightly in his blood streaked hand as he stepped into the doorway. "After everything I've done for you, everything I gave up for you, to think that you would still stand there and act like I'm the fucking villain." I didn't even flinch. Maybe because I was too far gone for fear. Maybe because I was tired of playing the trembling woman in his script. Or maybe because I knew if I didn't get the phone open now, I was going to die here.

And in his final months, he would be more dangerous than ever. I placed my hand on my stomach as I walked out of the hospital into the early morning light. The baby kicked strongly, a reminder of the future I was fighting for. Victor’s illness had been exposed. His empire was beginning to crack. But as I looked back at the private wing where he lay sleeping, I knew the real battle was only starting. The terminal clock had been revealed. Less than six months. The time for pretending was over. Now we would see who truly survived in the end.

“If I killed you here and now, that would be a gift. Mercy. You’d go down in a fight, in a murder, blood on the floor and a bullet through your skull. That’d be a prideful death, one last story for the vultures to whisper about.” I leaned closer, the barrel still grinding against his temple. “But cancer? That’s no fight. That’s humiliation. That’s the one enemy you can’t bribe, can’t threaten, can’t kill in the dark. That’s the punishment you deserve. Unforgiving. Incurable. Unfightable.” Vincent’s eyes flickered with the faintest twitch of acknowledgment. He knew I was right. Lorraine pulled back just enough to look up at me, horror in her eyes. “Misha… that’s cruel. You’re sparing him just

I wanted to close my eyes and let someone else take the weight. Then, a sharp, familiar ache twisted deep in my abdomen. Lunar Decay. The reality of my life crashed down on me like a concrete block. I am dying. I have a terminal disease spreading through my body. I am tied to a man who humiliated me, with a bond dissolution that is still ticking down its agonizing thirty-day clock. My worth had been beaten down to dust. I am broken. I cannot afford to invite someone like Sean into this wreckage. I cannot afford to break again.