All Chapters of Married Twice, Loved Once : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

172 Chapters

The rat in the trap

2:00 AM. Motel 88, Victoria Mainland.The ceiling fan wobbled on its axis, making a rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack sound that was driving Sophia insane.She sat cross-legged on the stained bedspread, her knees pulled up to her chest. The room smelled of stale cigarettes and mildew—a far cry from the lavender-scented sheets of her apartment .Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.She stared at the small, boxy television mounted in the corner of the room. The picture was grainy, the colors washed out, but the headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen was crystal clear.BREAKING NEWS: TRAGEDY ON THE LINK BRIDGE.Vivienne Carter in Critical Condition After Suicide Attempt.Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth.“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Vivienne?”The news anchor continued, her voice grave.“Sources confirm that the disgraced heiress, reeling from a fresh scandal involving a leaked intimate tape, jumped from the Link Bridge late last night. She

The Gilded cage

3:45 AM. Private Hangar, Kendall road.The black sedan moved through the empty streets like a phantom, gliding past the sleeping city, past the mainland bridges, and turning onto a restricted access road near the airport.Inside the car, Sophia sat on the edge of the leather seat, her hands clutching her trash bag of clothes. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, but the panic was slowly being replaced by a dizzying sense of relief.She looked at the partition separating her from the driver.“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice small. “Where are we going? Is it the Airport?”Silence.“Please,” she pressed, leaning forward. “I just need to know if I’m safe. Does Damian know I’m leaving?”The driver didn’t turn around. He simply tapped a button on the dashboard. A prerecorded voice filled the cabin—synthesized, distorted, impossible to identify.“Sit back. Silence is the price of your survival.”Sophia shrank back against the seat. The voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she

The new regime

11:45 PM. The Cross Master Bedroom.Damian stood by the window, the city lights reflecting against the glass as he barked orders into his phone. He was tired, his tie loosened, the weight of the Carter scandal pressing down on his shoulders.But then, a shadow moved across the floor.Aria walked up to him. She was wearing a silk slip that clung to her curves like a second skin, the lace hem brushing against her thighs. In her hand was a crystal glass filled with dark red wine.She didn’t say a word. She just hovered around him, the scent of her perfume vanilla and dangerous musk clouding his senses.Damian’s voice trailed off. He looked at her, then down at the phone.“I have to go,” he muttered abruptly, ending the call and tossing the phone onto the duvet.He turned to her, his eyes darkening. “Aria, you were distracting me.”“Well, I need some company,” she purred, stepping into his personal space. “You know this week has been hectic.”She brought the glass to her lips, taking a sl

Location zero

Unknown Time. Unknown Location.Sophia woke up to the smell of sea salt and lemon antiseptic.Her head felt like it had been split open with an axe. The grogginess from the champagne was gone, replaced by a sharp, throbbing dehydration.She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the blinding brightness of the room.It wasn’t a dungeon. It wasn’t a cell.It was a suite.The walls were painted a soothing, creamy white. The floors were polished travertine. There was a plush king-sized bed with high-thread-count linens, a mahogany writing desk, and a vase of fresh white lilies on the nightstand.Sophia sat up, clutching her head. Where am I? London? Paris?She swung her legs off the bed. She was still wearing the clothes she had fled the motel in—wrinkled jeans and a stained t-shirt.She walked to the door. It was a heavy, solid wood door with a brass handle.She turned the handle.Locked.Sophia frowned. Maybe they locked it for my safety?She knocked. “Hello? Is anyone there? I’m awake.”Silenc

The Coronation

11:00 AM. Carter Group Headquarters, Executive Boardroom.The conference room was filled with the low, anxious hum of twelve men and women in expensive suits. These were the Department Heads the engine that ran the Carter Group. They had survived Mr. Carter’s rages and Vivienne’s icy perfectionism, but today, they looked unsure.“She’s a painter,” the Chief Financial Officer, Mr. Edward, muttered to the Head of Marketing. “She doesn’t know a balance sheet from a canvas. Damian Cross is clearly running this through a puppet.”“I give her a week,” the Marketing Head whispered back. “She’ll crack under the pressure. Did you see her at the hospital? She’s too fragile.” The heavy oak doors swung open.Aria walked in.She didn’t walk like a painter. She walked like a predator entering a clearing. Her heels clicked a sharp, rhythmic tempo against the marble floor. She carried no notepad, no pen, no Tablet.She walked straight to the head of the table—the seat that had remained empty since h

The fragmented mind

2:15 PM. St. Nicholas Hospital, ICU.The rhythmic whoosh-click of the ventilator was the only sound in the dimly lit room.Aria locked the door behind her with a soft click. She moved with the efficiency of an assassin, placing her Chanel purse on the chair and retrieving the vial of muscle relaxant she had stolen from Damian.She held it up to the light. Clear. Lethal.She walked to the bedside. Vivienne looked pale, her skin almost translucent against the white sheets. The bruises on her face had turned a sickly shade of yellow-green."I didn't want it to end this way, Viv," Aria whispered, uncapping the syringe she had swiped from the tray. "But you’re a loose end. And I don’t like loose ends."She drew the liquid into the syringe. She flicked the barrel to remove the air bubbles.She reached for the IV port on Vivienne’s arm.She was inches away—the needle hovering over the rubber stopper—when the rhythm of the room changed.The whoosh-click of the ventilator hitched.Aria froze.

The cold light of the day

Tuesday Night. NYPD Detention Facility, Manhattan.The holding cell smelled of bleach, old sweat, and despair.Selene sat huddled in the corner of the metal bench, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her grey suit the one she had worn to court thinking she would walk out a free woman—was wrinkled and stained. Her hair was a matted mess, the elastic tie long gone.She wasn't the polished executive anymore. She was just Inmate 8940.She rocked back and forth, muttering to herself.“I didn’t mean it… I can fix it… I just need five minutes…”She stood up suddenly, rushing to the bars. She gripped the cold steel, her knuckles turning white.“Officer!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Officer, please!”A burly guard sitting at the desk down the hall sighed. He didn’t look up from his sandwich.“Quiet down, Selene. It’s lights out in ten.”“I need to make a call!” Selene begged, pressing her face against the bars. “I need to speak to Damian Cross. Please. I know his number by heart. Just one

The silent scream

Wednesday, 2:30 PM (Local Time). Location Zero.The Atlantic Ocean was calm today, a flat sheet of turquoise glass stretching to the horizon. But inside the white concrete walls of The Sanctuary, the air was suffocating.Sophia sat in the common room a sterile, high-end lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of her prison. She was wearing the facility's uniform: loose white linen pants and a matching tunic. No shoes.She was curled up on a beige sofa, her eyes glued to the large wall-mounted television.It was the only channel allowed: Global News.On the screen, the chaos of New York City played out in high definition.Sophia watched as the NYPD van doors opened. She watched as Selene stumbled out in the orange jumpsuit, the chains rattling around her waist.Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth.“Selene,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.She saw her former partner, the woman she had conspired with, laughed with, plotted with reduced to a weeping mess.Th

The mother's instinct

6:00 PM. St. Nicholas Hospital.The sun was setting, casting long, bruised shadows across the hospital room.Aria walked down the hallway, her heels clicking softly on the linoleum. She had changed out of her boardroom attire into a soft, cream-colored cardigan and jeans—the costume of the concerned sister. In her hand, she carried a thermos of homemade pepper soup.She reached Room 4.She reached for the handle, expecting to walk right in as she always did.The door was locked.Aria frowned. She knocked lightly.“Mom? It’s me.”There was a pause. A long, heavy silence. Then, the lock clicked. The door opened just a crack.Mrs. Carter stood there. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a new rigidity in her posture. She didn’t open the door wide to let Aria in. She stood in the gap, blocking the view of the bed.“Aria,” Mrs. Carter said. Her voice was flat.“I brought soup,” Aria said, lifting the thermos and putting on her best sympathetic smile. “For you. And maybe

Will You Marry Me ??

8:30 PM. The Cross Mansion Aria stormed through the front door, tossing her Chanel bag onto the foyer table with enough force to knock over a small vase. It didn’t break, but the clatter echoed sharply in the quiet apartment.Damian was in the living room, nursing a tumbler of whiskey. He looked up, his expression unreadable, as Aria paced into the room, her heels striking the marble floor like hammers.“She locked the door, Damian!” Aria exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “She actually locked the door in my face. Her own daughter!”Damian set his glass down. “Your mother?”“Yes! My mother!” Aria paced to the window and back, her chest heaving. “I went there to bring soup. To be kind. And she looked at me like… like I was a stranger. She wouldn’t let me near the bed. She put a chair in front of the door like a guard dog.”She grabbed a glass from the bar cart and poured herself a drink, her hands shaking slightly not from sadness, but from the sheer frustration of having her plans thw

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