Lahat ng Kabanata ng BLOOD FOR A BRIDE : Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

-ASARAIAH KAINE-The mansion was too quiet again.That kind of silence that sounds like it’s listening.I’d been pacing since morning, replaying last night—his words, the look in his eyes, the car outside the café. Malrik was watching me again today, I could feel it, even if I couldn’t see him.But that wasn’t what kept my pulse high.It was the whisper I heard last night, right before I fell asleep.My name, faint, female, familiar.I’d thought it was Calla at first, or maybe just the stress. Until it came again.Right from the hallway wall behind my bed.So yeah, I did what any stupid, restless woman married to a secretive mafia king would do. I went looking for it.The west wing was supposedly off-limits. Gaya told me the staff weren’t allowed to clean there anymore, that it was sealed for restoration.But the thing about locked doors in this house?They only stay locked if you believe the lie.I found the key by accident, under the old clock near the library. It looked ancient, i

CHAPTER 73 — ASARAIAH KAINECalla never takes no for an answer.By Friday, she’d worn me down the way she always did — a mix of guilt, charm, and something I couldn’t name. Maybe hope. She said I needed air. That I’d been locked up in that marble mausoleum too long.So now here I was, standing in front of a mirror that cost more than my car, wearing a silk dress she’d chosen, mascara on, hair curled, pretending my life was normal.“Stop scowling,” she said, leaning against the doorframe in a blush-pink blazer that screamed money and mischief. “You look like you’re about to stab someone.”“I might,” I muttered.She rolled her eyes. “It’s brunch, not an execution.”“Same thing.”Calla grinned. “Then dress like the executioner.”⸻The rooftop restaurant was called Aurum.Gold. Fitting.It was the kind of place that smelled of jasmine, expensive secrets, and whatever power looked like when it wore perfume. The skyline shimmered behind glass walls; waiters in white carried trays that glitt

-ASARAIAH KAINE-The mansion felt wrong when I woke up.Not haunted. Just… aware.The curtains were half drawn, the morning light stretched across the floor like something watching. Every sound felt amplified — the slow drip of a faucet, the distant hum of the generator, the echo of footsteps that might’ve been mine or someone else’s.I showered, dressed, made coffee. Normal things. Things people do when they’re trying to remind themselves they’re still human.But the reflection in the window didn’t quite move like me.It was subtle — half a beat off, like a delayed echo.By the time I turned, it was gone.⸻Gaya was in the kitchen, her hair in a bun, phone in hand. She looked up when I walked in and immediately stiffened.“You shouldn’t be up,” she said.“I’ve been asleep for twelve hours.”“That’s not enough.”“Then maybe stop looking at me like I’m dying,” I said lightly. “It’s weird.”She didn’t smile. “I’m looking at you like someone who’s still breathing. You’d be surprised how

ASARAIAH KAINEThe quiet after chaos always felt like a lie.For days, the mansion had been silent, too silent. Even the staff whispered, as if they were afraid the marble might start speaking if they breathed too loudly. I’d learned to hate that kind of quiet. It never lasted. It was just the pause before the ground broke again.Malrik had been gone most nights, “meetings,” “business,” and other vague words that meant blood was being spilled somewhere I couldn’t see. He’d come home smelling faintly of smoke and iron, eyes too calm for any man who hadn’t just committed something unholy. I stopped asking questions. He’d stopped giving answers.But the stillness started to feel alive. The house was playing tricks again, lights flickering when I passed, the faint hum of whispers behind doors that had no one behind them.I told myself it was my mind, not the ghosts. And then the letter came.It was waiting on the entry table, thick paper, sealed in black wax, no return address. Gaya stoo

-ASARAIAH KAINE- The sound of dripping water was the only proof I was still alive.It echoed through the room in slow intervals, steady, cruel. Drip. Drip. Drip.Somewhere far away, someone was laughing.I tried to open my eyes. My lids felt heavy, glued shut by blood. My throat burned. Every breath scraped down raw lungs.Concrete floor. Rope. Bruises blooming across my ribs. The taste of iron coating my tongue.The bulb above me flickered, throwing my shadow across the wall — a broken outline that barely looked human.I didn’t know how long it had been. Hours, maybe days. The clock on the far wall had stopped.When the door opened again, I stopped pretending to be unconscious.Darren walked in, adjusting his cuffs, casual as if this was a business meeting. “Mrs. Kaine,” he said smoothly. “Or should I say, Mrs. Curse?”I stared back, silent.“Still quiet?” he continued. “Impressive. Most people start begging by now.”“I’m not most people,” I rasped.He smiled. “No. You’re the ghost