𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉𝐉𝐊

chapter sixty-five

Well, ik target is not completed but then I updated for my loves who comment and always vote.

Also, not trying to be rude but if you're not finding the story interesting just don't read it. There's no need to spread hate, just to satisfy some people I couldn't possibly rush and just give a hasty ending.

Anyway on stck this book is completed. Just one last chapter 69 is left to upload and that will be done in two-three days.

Happy reading~

///

-#[Vivian's Pov]:

I ended the call before a single word could escape his lips. Lowering the phone, I stared at the dark screen. It felt weightless in my hand, a stark contrast to the leaden, suffocating pressure building in my chest.

He didn't have to speak. I already knew the answer. The silence on his end was a scream. And I could feel it, the raw, frantic desperation clinging to his every breath.

Just the mention of her had unraveled him completely.

And that knowledge was a poison in my veins. The worst kind of agony.

My gaze drifted, drawn like a magnet to the other side of the one-way mirror.

There she was.

Y/n.

The woman who held his heart. The woman he loved.

She sat in the center of that barren room, bound to that chair, draped in those ropes. Utterly helpless. Utterly broken.

My expression remained a carefully crafted mask of indifference as I took a step closer, crossing my arms.

I watched her.

I studied the slump of her shoulders, the defeat in her posture. I watched for a beat too long, a minute longer than necessary, rooted to the spot.

As I stood there, my eyes narrowed. A familiar, bitter question began to claw at the edges of my mind.

What is it? What does she have that I don't?

Why does he always have to move heaven and earth for her? Why was her pain his own?

A bitter, hollow sound escaped me-a scoff laced with decades of resentment. I shook my head, my gaze finally dropping to the floor.

I hate her.

The feeling is a living, breathing thing inside me, growing fiercer every time I'm forced to confront the depth of his devotion to her. It makes me want to break her beyond repair. To reduce her to nothing.

A frustrated sigh ripped from my lungs as I dragged a hand through my hair. The sound of approaching footsteps didn't startle me. I didn't turn. I kept my eyes locked on Y/n, my posture rigid.

Zen.

"Is he coming?" he asked, coming to stand beside me, his own eyes following my line of sight to the trapped, exhausted figure.

I let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, before I answered, my voice a low, flat certainty.

"He will." A pause, the words tasting like ash. "For her. He will."

The silence that followed was heavier than before, thick with the corrosive bitterness churning inside me. Just the sight of that woman was a constant, agonizing reminder of everything I had lost.

I slowly turned away from the window. "When he gets here," I paused, my voice cold and detached, "make sure we get what we need."

Zen didn't answer immediately. I felt his gaze on my back before he gave a single, curt nod. It was all the confirmation I needed.