What Happens In The Private Letters Of Countess Erzsebet Bathory Ending?

After I was reborn, I was the one who changed the name on my blood bond with Prince Mortlock. I wrote in “Isabella”—the other vampire he’d always cherished, always protected. When Isabella wanted the ruby necklace, the one that marked the Prince's Mate, I let her have it. The wedding dress Mortlock had prepared for me? I gave that to Isabella, too. I did it all because in my past life, I got my wish. I became Mortlock’s mate, but I lived every moment in Isabella’s shadow. In the end, during a battle with vampire hunters, Mortlock ran to a wounded Isabella first. I was the one left to take a silver stake through the heart. So this time, I decided to let them be. To stay far away from Mortlock. But this time, the cold, distant Prince wept and begged me to be his mate again.

In the final year of my bond with vampire lord Saul, the curse of our pact struck, and I was overwhelmed by agony, but my lord was nowhere to be found. He had gone out. He left me to suffer. Alone. When the door finally creaked open the next morning, I looked up through bloodshot eyes—hope flickering like a dying candle. But he wasn't alone. He carried an unconscious woman in his arms, her head resting against his chest like she belonged there. Ignoring me as I curled up on the floor in pain, he first carried the woman to his room and called the old butler anxiously. "Jacinda's passed out. Hurry! Check if she's all right!" The old butler cautiously pleaded on my behalf, hoping our lord could save me first, but Saul frowned and interrupted: "Jacinda is in danger, and I have no mind to drink her blood now. She just needs to pull through herself. Believe me, she won't die. Right now, the priority is to save Jacinda." A frown and a glance in my direction was his only response to the old butler's desperate plea. With my only hope shattered, I clenched my teeth and slashed several long wounds on my arms and hands to drain blood for self-rescue. After a long period of weak convulsions, the curse of the pact finally ended. I lay in a pool of blood, sending a message with my last faint consciousness. "I promise I will leave him."

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

Rozelyn found out she is a vampire when she turned eighteen. To make matters worse, her stepmom is secretly a vampire as well and Cyrill, her stepmom's adoptive son, is a werewolf behind the shadows. As she live the life of being a vampire, several people had come for her—including the infamous Blood Mistress, a witch who hunts vampires and werewolves. Rozelyn become more fascinated with the vampire life, especially when she found out that sex plays a huge role in a vampire's everyday living and it acts like blood: once they tasted it, they will crave for it even more. Will Rozelyn be able to voice out her secret love to Cyrill without risking the familial relationship they have built for years? Or will she watch her loved ones perish due to her identity as the most powerful vampire to ever live? Amidst all these, only one thing is certain: Blood is thicker than water—either literally or figuratively.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I nestled in the arms of my vampire husband, Alaric, and offered my neck to his lingering kisses. My breath caught as my hand fumbled in my pocket for the pregnancy test crystal. It glowed faintly, showing a clear positive result. I planned to reveal my pregnancy as my final surprise for the night: we were going to have a half-vampire child of our own. Alaric's confidant, Roman, grinned suggestively and asked in the Old Tongue of the Kindred: "Your Highness, and what of your childhood friend, the beautiful pureblood Elise? Does she satisfy you?" Alaric's mocking laughter rumbled against my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied in the same Old Tongue: "Like fire, wild and intensely hot. The harder you bite, the sweeter she yields." His fingertip was still tracing the bite marks on my neck, but his gaze was far away. "Just be sure to keep this quiet. I'd be ruined if my dear wife found out." The clansmen chuckled, raising their blood-filled goblets to pledge their secrecy. The warmth in my blood ran to ice. They had forgotten. Born of a noble human line that had intermarried with the Kindred for generations, I was fluent in their Old Tongue. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect hostess's smile plastered on my face, but the hand gripping my glass began to tremble. Alaric probably thought that if I found out, I would cry and demand to know why he treated me this way, just as I had before. But what he didn't know was that this time, everything was different. The marriage contract was void. I sent a message to my father: "Father, I've lost the bet. I am coming home to inherit the family estate."

It was at our engagement banquet that I finally learned the truth. I wasn't the true heiress of a noble human family. I wasn't the "fated bride" destined to bear a half-blood child for the vampires. I was just the wrong baby someone had brought home from the hospital. A fake. I'd thought that Alexander, the boy who'd risked his life to drag me out of a burning house, the boy I'd grown up beside, would love me the same as always. Instead, in front of everyone, he let go of my hand and looked down at me with cold eyes. "Without that bloodline, do you really think you deserve to stand beside me?" Then he reached out and slid the engagement ring off my finger himself. He turned, and led the true heiress up to the high platform. Everyone laughed at me. The fake heiress, delusional enough to think she could marry the vampire heir. I was thrown out of the only home I'd ever known. The only kindness left to me was Alexander's, a scrap of charity that let me stay at his side as the lowest thing a vampire could keep. A blood slave. And then, later, I died in an explosion. Saving him. Alexander knelt in the blood and lost his mind, screaming at everyone around him to save me. But there was something he didn't know. I hadn't died. Later still, at a vampire banquet, he saw me again at last. I walked past him on another man's arm, smiling. And this time, it was his turn to lose his mind begging me to look back at him.