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Chapter 65
Last Updated:
2025-08-27 21:40:54
Latest chapter
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 223
Richard Abbott did not confront people on instinct.He gathered facts. He verified patterns. He waited until certainty settled into his bones like a weight inescapable, undeniable.That was how he knew Gabriel Morgan was not a coincidence.The PI’s report lay open on Richard’s desk, pages neat, impersonal, damning in their restraint. Names. Dates. Proximity. Patterns that did not scream guilt but whispered intention.Gabriel Morgan. Private equity consultant. International board appointments. Old-money access without visible origin.And threaded through it all—quietly, repeatedly—Monet.Richard leaned back, fingers steepled, jaw tight.Gabriel had been near the foundations on which Monet once stood. Near the convents. Near the social circles that brushed too close to Stephanie Jacobs’ shadow. Near Elara—long before Seychelles, long before chance could be blamed.Richard exhaled slowly. So this was not curiosity.This was an inheritance. He closed the file and stood. They met.
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 222
Juliet Pendleton saw it while standing in her kitchen, barefoot on cold marble, a porcelain cup cooling untouched in her hand.She hadn’t been looking for it. That was the unsettling part.The notification surfaced the way truths often did in her life—uninvited, perfectly timed.Trending: Stephanie Jacobs’ Daughters—A Legacy Reopened. The Jacobs family isn't offering any comments at the moment. Juliet frowned faintly and tapped the screen. She listened. All the way through.She didn’t interrupt it with outrage or disbelief. She didn’t pace. She didn’t curse Monet or Elara or Richard.She simply listened.By the time the episode ended, her tea had gone cold and something sharp and old had surfaced behind her ribs.“Well,” she murmured to the empty kitchen. “So it finally escaped the box.”Juliet had spent most of her life adjacent to secrets that other people believed were buried. Old money had a way of leaving fingerprints on stories even after it washed its hands.Stephanie Jaco
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 221
Monet knew who it was before the knock finished echoing on the door. There was a particular rhythm to Mother Margaret’s presence—unhurried, reverent, as though even doors should be approached with care. Monet closes her eyes briefly, breath tightening, then forces herself to stand. She opens the door.Mother Margaret looks smaller than Monet remembers. Or maybe Monet has grown into her grief. The nun’s habit is immaculate, her silver-streaked hair tucked neatly beneath her veil, her eyes warm with something dangerously close to relief.“Monet,” she says softly.That is all it takes.Anger surges—hot, immediate—but it has nowhere to land. It dissolves the moment Mother Margaret steps forward and cups Monet’s face the way she used to when Monet was a child with skinned knees and unasked questions.“You shouldn’t have come,” Monet says, even as she steps aside.“I know,” Mother Margaret replies, and enters anyway.They sit in the breakfast nook in the kitchen. Monet pours tea. Stea
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 220
The silence came first.Not immediately—not while the recording lights are still warm, not while the producer is thanking her, not while the sound engineer nods like he’s witnessed something important. Silence waits. It is patient. It always is.It finds her later. In the back seat of the car.In the pause before her phone lights up again.In the way her aunt’s house smells like lemon cleaner and nothing else.Elara presses her forehead against the window as the city slides past. Neon, glass, faces reflected and distorted. The world looks unchanged, which feels offensive. She has just spoken a truth that took her entire life to assemble, and the streetlights don’t even flicker in acknowledgment.Her phone buzzes. She doesn’t check it.She already knows what’s there. She had known before she agreed to the podcast before she sat in that chair, microphone hovering inches from her mouth like a question that had been waiting decades to be asked. Sympathy. Curiosity. Applause. Dis
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 219
The day had been almost painfully ordinary. That was what made it cruel. Monet spent the morning in the sunroom with the children, light spilling across the rug in long, lazy bands. Carter lay on his stomach assembling something elaborate and doomed with blocks, narrating his progress aloud. Meredith sat cross-legged beside Monet with a book she was pretending to read, her head leaning comfortably against Monet’s arm. Delores drifted in and out, offering commentary, bringing snacks, pretending not to watch Monet watch the children like someone memorizing a feeling. It was peace. Real, unguarded peace. The kind Monet had learned not to trust too completely. Her phone lay face down on the table. She hadn’t meant to ignore it. She simply hadn’t thought about it at all. The first vibration was faint. A single shiver against the wood. She didn’t move. The second came moments later. Then another. Then three in quick succession—sharp enough this time to cut through Carter’s mono
Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM) Chapter 218
Juliet Pendleton heard about Monet Abbott’s return the way she heard about most things worth knowing—not directly, not officially, and never from anyone who thought they were being useful. It came in fragments. A pause that lasted half a second too long at a charity luncheon. A name repeated with a slight change in tone. A woman lowered her voice when Juliet passed, then raised it again once she was sure Juliet had moved on. “She’s back,” someone said. Not that they’re back. Not Richard returned. She’s back. Juliet smiled when she heard it, the polite curve of her mouth practiced over decades. She didn’t ask questions. Asking was amateurish. Asking suggested interest. Instead, she listened. Elmsworth had not seen Monet Abbott in weeks. That alone was noteworthy. Women like Monet—women who wanted permanence, security, legitimacy—did not leave their homes without explanation. They did not disappear into tropical anonymity unless something had shifted beneath their feet.
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