All Chapters of The Price of His Betrayal : Chapter 71 - Chapter 78

The morning sun streamed softly through the large windows of Ethan's luxury penthouse, painting golden patterns across the marble floors.It was a new day — a victorious day.The air inside was sweet with the scent of fresh flowers and the richer, almost tangible scent of triumph.Ethan sat on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand, watching the morning news that recapped the disastrous collapse of Christian Blake’s business empire.The headline flashed boldly:"CHRISTIAN BLAKE: FROM BUSINESS KING TO FALLEN TYCOON"Ethan chuckled darkly under his breath.He leaned back, running a hand through his hair in sheer satisfaction.From the hallway, Ilda emerged, her silk robe trailing behind her like a queen making her entrance.Her face wore a victorious smile — a smile of someone who had waited so long for this moment.As she approached, Ethan’s eyes softened, and he set his glass aside, opening his arms wide."Come here, my queen," he said warmly.Ilda laughed — a rich, soft laugh — and s

The heavy front door swung open with a deep, resonant groan, and Ilda stepped inside, her arms burdened with shopping bags and a small piece of luggage. A gust of cold, stale air greeted her, stirring a faint shiver down her spine. The workers, clad in crisp uniforms, rushed toward her, their footsteps tapping sharply against the marble floors.They wore polite smiles—too polite, too rehearsed—as they relieved her of her bags, their movements practiced and mechanical.The mansion swallowed her whole.It felt different.Too cold.Too empty.The grand hall stretched out before her, a cavern of gleaming marble and shadow. The once-warm chandeliers that used to bathe the entrance in soft gold light now flickered weakly, casting long, distorted.Ilda hesitated on the threshold, her heels clicking softly as she shifted her weight. She could hear the distant ticking of the grand clock in the main parlor, each second stretching out with painful slowness. The echoes of the workers’ footsteps r

The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor flickered slightly, humming in the sterile silence that blanketed the space. Crystal sat stiffly on the metal bench, her hands clutched tightly together in her lap, her knuckles pale from the pressure. Her eyes, red and swollen from silent crying, remained glued to the double doors of the surgical theater.Each second that passed felt like a dagger to her chest.She kept whispering under her breath, "Please God… please… just let him be okay."The wall clock above ticked mockingly — its sound loud and hollow in the hallway. Crystal had no idea how long she had been sitting there. Time had lost all meaning the moment they wheeled Adrian away on that cold metal stretcher.She had begged to see him, just once, before the surgery…But they had refused.Now all she could do was wait…And hope.Suddenly, the doors burst open. Her heart skipped.A doctor in scrubs emerged — his mask lowered, sweat lining his brow. He pulled off his gloves slowly

The grand hall of the Blake mansion was filled with urgent footsteps and low murmurs. Within minutes of Olivia’s collapse, the family’s private doctor, Dr. Halden, arrived, his medical kit in hand and concern etched deeply into his brow. He was led swiftly upstairs to Olivia’s room, where she had been laid gently on the bed by Christian and the house staff.Olivia looked pale, her skin clammy, and her breath came in slow, shallow waves. Though her eyes had opened faintly, she remained still and mute, her lips barely twitching as if she were trying to form words that simply wouldn’t come. Her once fierce gaze was now vacant — distant, trapped in a fog.Dr. Halden moved quickly and with practiced hands, checking her pulse, taking her temperature, and examining her eyes. “She’s stable, but barely,” he said gravely. “She’s regained consciousness, but she’s currently unable to speak or communicate properly. Her nervous system seems to be under a kind of strain — possibly induced by strong