Lahat ng Kabanata ng ALIYAH'S REVENGE : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 9

Aliyah stared out of the tall, arched window, watching the rain streak down the glass like tears. Three days had passed since her arrival, three days since Pedro had entered her room without warmth or explanation. Three days since her innocence had been stripped and replaced with silence.She hadn’t seen him since, except a doctor who stopped by to perform checkups and elicit samples from her body.The vastness of Perez Manor made her feel like a ghost — a specter gliding through marble halls, unseen and unheard. No one looked her in the eyes. The maids were tight-lipped and formal. The butler, Mr. Halston, barely acknowledged her presence.She was Lady Perez in name, but a prisoner in reality.“Elena,” Aliyah called softly, setting aside the untouched breakfast tray.The maid appeared from the hallway, her dark hair pulled back, face taut with exhaustion.“Yes, Señora?”“Where is he?” Aliyah asked, voice small. “Pedro. My… husband.”Elena hesitated. “Señor Perez is at the office. He

The ticking of the antique grandfather clock filled the silence in Pedro Perez’s study.He stood by the wide window, gaze fixed on the gardens beyond, but his mind was elsewhere — racing, replaying, waiting.A knock interrupted the quiet.“Sir,” came his assistant’s voice through the door, “The girl is in labor.”Pedro didn’t move. Not yet. Not until the memory finished playing out in his mind.His father’s voice still haunted him — gravelly and weak, but every word laced with steel.“You think money alone makes you powerful?” Eduardo Perez had said from his hospital bed. The tubes and machines around him did little to soften his authority. “A name survives through blood, not balance sheets.”Pedro had stood there, unmoved. “You already have an heir. Me.”“You’re not enough.” Eduardo’s breathing was shallow. His eyes sharp. “This empire… this legacy… it goes to your son. My grandson. That’s the law I made. No boy, no empire.”Pedro clenched his fists.“You want to be me?” Eduardo had

The hallway leading to Eduardo Perez’s bedroom smelled of lavender oil and finality. Silent-footed nurses hovered just beyond his door, their faces pinched with reverence and dread, as though death itself lingered on the other side—impatient, but polite.Pedro stood at the far end of the corridor, eyes fixed on the closed door ahead. His arms were crossed tightly, his tailored black suit still sharp, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the weight he carried. Beside him, Mandy adjusted the baby blanket around infant Andre, who lay quiet in her arms, his tiny features cradled against the silk of her gown."Are you ready?" she whispered to Pedro, casting him a quick glance.His reply was delayed."I don’t think anyone’s ever ready to say goodbye to a man like my father," Pedro murmured. His voice was devoid of the emotion swelling beneath the surface, but Mandy didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched at his sides. “But we’ve waited long enough. He asked for this.”The double doors cr

Mandy’s laughter had barely died on her lips when the first wail shattered the drawing room. She’d been presiding over a small gathering of potential social allies—heiresses and society matrons draped in silk and jewels—when the sound cut through the polite clinking of champagne glasses like a knife. Heads turned, delicate chatter halted, and Mandy froze mid-smile, as though she’d been struck.She rose abruptly. “Excuse me,” she said, voice too bright, too forced. She laid a hand on the back of her chair—an anchor in the storm of her own making—and slipped from the room, leaving clusters of guests staring at one another in startled confusion.The cry had come again, louder, more urgent, echoing from the hallway beyond. Two maids hurried around the corner, faces pale, hands fluttering at their sides.“Ma’am,” one whispered. “The baby—Master Andre—he’s crying, and he won’t stop.”Mandy’s blood ran ice-cold. She dropped her gloves to the polished marble floor and bolted down the corridor,