Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 179

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**
**Chapter 179: Rebound**

Emma held steadfast to the belief that neither Silas nor Lucien could be manipulated by anyone’s underhanded schemes. Yet, the wicked had a seemingly endless arsenal of tricks, and it was impossible to guard against every single one of them. The thought of keeping such a treacherous individual under the same roof was akin to inviting chaos into their lives. If the person residing in the manor was indeed an imposter, they could simply confront the real one when he eventually arrived.

With a sense of urgency, Emma rose from her chair, her heart racing. “Come with me. This Malrik is far too dangerous to remain in the manor any longer.”

As she made her way downstairs, her mind raced with thoughts of the potential threat. What if Malrik was more than just a nuisance? What if he had sinister intentions?

Meanwhile, Merlin descended the staircase, his keen eyes catching sight of Marcus’ door slightly ajar. Curiosity piqued, he crept closer and peeked inside. The sight that greeted him was chilling: Marcus lay in a crystal coffin, his eyes shut, utterly still, as if he were a figure carved from stone. The room was stark and uninviting, save for the frosty coffin that held Marcus captive; the curtains were drawn tightly, casting a shadowy gloom that made the air feel heavy and oppressive.

Merlin stepped inside, a sneer forming on his lips as he approached the lifeless figure. “Since you’re already half-dead, why don’t I do you a favor and send you off early?” His voice dripped with disdain, but beneath that bravado lay a flicker of fear.

As he spoke, he withdrew a dagger from his belt, its blade shimmering ominously in the dim light, reflecting a cold, venomous gleam. This weapon was no ordinary blade; it had been carefully coated with a poison that was colorless and odorless, a silent killer that would leave no trace behind.

He thought to himself, This one is always half-dead anyway. He must be harboring some fatal illness. A simple cut, and he’ll slip away without anyone the wiser. I’ll mend the wound afterward, and no one will suspect foul play. They’ll just assume he succumbed to his affliction.

Merlin’s eyes sparkled with a murderous intent as he raised the dagger, poised to strike. He sliced across the back of Marcus’ hand, and instantly, beads of crimson blood welled up, stark against the pale skin.

“Die, Marcus—” he hissed, relishing the thought of his impending victory.

But suddenly, an unsettling sensation coursed through him.

No—wait… I poisoned him—why am I the one feeling pain?

He glanced down in shock, his heart racing as he saw three identical slashes mirroring the wound he had inflicted upon Marcus.

“Ahhhh!” he cried out, panic rising within him.

It burns! This… this is my poison! What the hell is happening?!

Frantic, Merlin fumbled for the antidote, shoving it into his mouth with trembling hands, then hastily grabbed a healing serum, smearing it over the wounds. In mere moments, the searing pain subsided, and his hand returned to its normal state.

But the disbelief lingered. He switched to a clean dagger—no poison this time—and drew another line across Marcus’ skin. Once again, three matching wounds opened on his own hand.

It dawned on him then—there was something profoundly unnatural about Marcus. Any harm inflicted upon him rebounded upon the attacker like a curse.

Merlin stared at Marcus, his eyes wide with horror, as if he had encountered a ghost.

Inside the crystal coffin, Marcus had been waiting patiently for a reaction. When none came, he finally opened his eyes, letting out a faint sigh. “Done trying to kill me?”

“Ah!” Merlin jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. “Y-You weren’t asleep?”

“I was, until you so rudely woke me.” Marcus regarded him with an air of impatience. “Well? Are you still going to kill me or not? If not, kindly leave. I was trying to sleep.”

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