While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Chapter 37 Daughter of Thorne

The words echoed across the water.

I am a daughter of the Thorne family. I am not afraid.

Veyra pressed herself against the rough bark of the willow tree, her heart hammering against her ribs. The moonlight caught Lily’s small face, pale and set with a determination that seemed impossible for a child her age. There was no trembling lip. No tears streaming down her cheeks. Just a quiet, steel resolve that made Veyra’s breath catch in her throat.

She looked at the little girl with newfound admiration. This was not the shy child who had knocked on her bedroom door with a tray of lopsided cookies. This was someone else entirely. Someone forged by a family that demanded strength, even from its youngest members.

Lily’s eyes were fixed straight ahead. Her small hands were pressed against the kidnapper’s arm, not clawing, not fighting, just holding on. Grounding herself.

Veyra felt a lump form in her throat.

Then her gaze shifted to Dorian.

He was standing twenty feet from the kidnapper, his body rigid, his hands loose at his sides. But his face, his face had transformed. The hard lines around his mouth softened. The ice in his gray eyes melted into something gentle. Something warm.

His lips curved. Just barely. A small, tender smile.

He was looking at Lily like she was the only light in a world of darkness.

Veyra stared, mesmerized. She had never seen him like this. This man who had choked her against a wall. This man who had mocked her in the café. This man who kept everyone at arm’s length, who trusted no one, who showed no vulnerability.

He loved that little girl. Deeply. Fiercely. The type of love that could not be faked.

For a moment, Veyra forgot where she was. Forgot the knife at Lily’s throat. Forgot the cold water lapping at her chest. She just watched Dorian’s face and felt something crack open inside her.

Then he turned his head.

His eyes found the kidnapper.

And the gentleness vanished.

His jaw locked. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. His eyes went cold—colder than she had ever seen them. Colder than the lake water seeping through her clothes.

He looked like a man who had already decided how this would end.

Veyra shivered.

The kidnapper’s voice cut through the night.

"Ten million!" he shouted. His arm tightened around Lily’s chest. The knife glinted in the moonlight. "Cash! Untraceable! And a helicopter! Here! In ten minutes!"

His voice was high and strained. He was scared. Veyra could hear it. The way his words tumbled out too fast. The way his breathing came in short, ragged gasps.

Scared men were dangerous. Scared men made mistakes.

But scared men also killed.

"Ten minutes!" he screamed again. "Or she dies! I swear to God, I’ll cut her throat right here!"

Dorian did not move. He did not speak. He just stood there, his gray eyes fixed on the kidnapper like a predator sizing up its prey.

The kidnapper shifted his weight. His hand trembled. The knife moved.

Just a fraction. Just a centimeter.

But it was enough.

The blade grazed Lily’s neck. A thin line of red appeared on her pale skin. A bead of blood welled up and rolled slowly down her throat.

Lily gasped. A small sound. Barely audible.

But Veyra heard it.

And she saw Dorian’s reaction.

His hands curled into fists. His knuckles went white. His entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His jaw was so tight she thought his teeth might crack.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify