?Chapter 1441:


    The night was shattered by the violent drumming of rain against the ss, and beyond the windows, a dense, oppressive darkness swallowed the city whole. Thunder cracked overhead.


    On the second floor of the Nelson family vi, an eerie stillness clung to the bedroom.


    Axell jolted awake, struck by a sudden, piercing agony. It felt as if countless dull, rusted des were grinding inside his abdomen, twisting his intestines and wrenching them in opposite directions.


    “Ugh…” He curled inward, cold sweat pouring down his temples and soaking through his silk pajamas. “Water…” he murmured, the word barely audible beneath the storm. “Someone… anyone…”


    Panic began to seep into his voice. His trembling hand groped for the call bell. He pressed it. Its sharp ring echoed through the corridor.


    No answer came on the first call. Nor the second. The grand vi stood as hollow and silent as a tomb.


    The scorching pain in his stomach shot through his limbs. It was more than agony — a numbing, creeping sensation slithered through his veins like thousands of needles stabbing from the inside.


    Poison.


    The realization struck him like lightning. He tried to stand, only to discover in horror that his legs were utterly lifeless. With a heavy thud, he toppled off the bed and hit the handcrafted carpet. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself forward on his elbows, nails scraping across the carpet with a teeth-grating sound.


    Fifteen feet. Ten. Five.


    Just as his fingertips brushed the edge of the doorknob, the door swung open from the outside with a slow creak. A thin de of cold light cut into the room, falling across Axell’s pale, contorted face. Hope fluttered in his chest — he assumed it was the butler.


    “Help… help me…” he gasped.


    But the figure who entered was not the butler.


    A person in red stepped inside. Barefoot, wearing a torn dress smeared with mud and dried blood, she moved in silence — like an apparition drawn from the storm itself. She stopped before him and stared down at where hey helpless on the floor.


    Axell struggled to force his vision to focus. The figure leaned down and swept aside tangled strands of hair. When her face came into view, his pupils stretched wide.


    ?????? ???????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.??????


    What a face. Swollen. Bruised. A massive dark-purple welt across her forehead. Dried blood clinging to the corner of her lips. Under the dim light, she looked like something crawling out of the underworld.


    “Ah! A ghost!” Axell shrieked, hisposure shattering. His body tried instinctively to recoil, but paralyzed, he could only twitch helplessly.


    “A ghost?” The woman stared at him and let out a mockingugh — hoarse, cracked, and disturbingly familiar. She crouched slowly. Her bloodshot eyes, emptied of warmth, locked onto his. “Darling, look closely. Don’t you recognize me?”


    Darling. The word mmed into Axell like a thunderp.


    He trembled violently, staring at the ghastly face looming over him. “You… you’re… Rosanna?” he whispered, horrified.


    It seemed impossible. The gentle, timid Rosanna — reduced to this?


    Rosanna gazed at his terrified expression without a trace of pity. A twisted smile curled her lips. “It’s me.”


    She lifted a hand — fingers cut and swollen from smashing through a mirror — and brushed Axell’s cold, sweat-slick cheek. Her touch was icy, carrying the faint smell of blood.


    “Does it hurt?” she asked softly, her tone almost tender, like a wife weing her husband home. “Does it feel like your insides are tearing apart? Like your limbs won’t obey you?”


    Axell stared, horrified. “You… how do you know? Hurry — call a doctor…”


    “A doctor?” Rosanna shook her head slowly. Madness and quiet satisfaction glimmered in her eyes. “You don’t need a doctor. This isn’t a sickness.”


    She leaned close to his ear, her voice dropping to a low, sinister whisper. “I poisoned you myself, darling. A slow-acting toxin. It builds up day by day — and tonight, it finally reached its limit.”


    Axell felt his soul go numb.


    “You — you vicious woman! Why would you do this to me?” he roared, summoning thest of his strength. “Haven’t I treated you well? You’re my wife — anything you wanted, I gave you! Why betray me —”


    “Why?” Rosanna threw her head back and cackled — a shrill, broken sound filled with despair and venom. Herughter echoed through the empty room, chilling the air. Then it cut short. Her eyes narrowed to lethal slits.


    “Axell Nelson, you wretch. You really have the nerve to ask me why?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to something low and venomous. “You think I wanted to marry you? You think I wanted to be Mrs. Nelson? Every single day, looking at your face — I could barely hold back the urge to be sick.”


    Her teeth clenched, her mind dragged back to the night that had destroyed her life.


    “That night, I drugged Maia Watson. I wanted her name dragged through the mud.” Her expression contorted with hatred and bitter regret. “So why — why was I the one who ended up vited? Why wasn’t it Maia?”


    .


    .


    .