All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

After Sheila left, silence flooded back into the room, heavy and oppressive. I stared blankly at the untouched tray of food she had left behind. Forcing myself, I took a small spoonful, but the moment it touched my tongue, nausea surged violently. My stomach twisted painfully, and I barely made it to the small bathroom before I doubled over the sink, retching.Tears pricked at my eyes as I wiped my mouth with shaking hands. My body felt drained like all the energy had been sucked out of me. I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, staring at the hollow-eyed reflection that stared back at me. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the loneliness—wrapped around me like an unshakable fog.I forced myself back to bed, curling into myself, arms wrapped protectively over my belly. I wouldn’t cry. Not again. I was too exhausted to cry.Just as exhaustion began pulling me under, the door burst open again, revealing my mother-in-law, and startling me awake.

A Week LaterThe house was quiet. Too quiet.I sat motionless on the balcony of my bedroom, staring out at the vast expanse of green surrounding the mansion. It was a beautiful home—secluded, peaceful, far from the suffocating noise of the city. The kind of place people would call an escape. But for me, it was just another prison.Beside me, the plate of untouched food sat, the scent alone making my stomach twist. Nausea curled in my throat, threatening to rise. It had been this way for days. Every time I tried to eat, I ended up hunched over a toilet, dry heaving until there was nothing left. The exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, dragging me down, and making my body feel unbearably heavy.Susan and the other maids were here. I hadn’t asked them to resign; after Susan had called to tell me they resigned, I told them to stay. I didn’t know why. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe I just didn’t care.They moved around the house, doing what they could, but none of it reached

The large garden loomed ahead, its vibrant flowers and sprawling yard basking under the afternoon sun—so bright, so full of life. The contrast made my emptiness feel all the more suffocating.Then, suddenly—SLAP!The force of it sent me crashing to the ground. A sharp sting spread across my cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth where my teeth cut into my lip. I gasped, my mind spinning, the world tilting as I stared at the dirt beneath me, too stunned to move.“Marianne, what the hell?!” Sheila shrieked.And then, in the chaos of it all, her voice sliced through the air like a blade."She’s pregnant!" Sheila’s voice cracked as if the weight of it had finally been too much to bear.The world went still. The air shifted, suffocating and thick with an emotion too heavy to name. Marianne stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat. Her anger twisted into something else—shock, disbelief, devastation. Her lips parted, but no words came out.I could barely move. My body was

I exhaled softly, gathering my thoughts. I had spent the past week thinking about this—turning it over in my mind, debating, hesitating. I had run through the possibilities, the consequences, and the emotions tied to it.Was I strong enough? Brave enough? Was I really ready to let go of the past that had defined so much of me?I didn’t have all the answers.But what I did have now was a reason.A life growing inside me. A heartbeat that depended on mine. And that alone was enough.I had to move forward. I had to choose strength. I had to choose survival.For my baby.Morgan must have sensed my hesitation, because he set his cup down, his keen gaze watching me closely, but before he could ask me, I finally broke the silence."I know you must be thinking that I didn’t call you just for tea or to chat."A knowing smile crossed his lips. "That I am."I took a deep breath, straightening in my seat. My

“I—” I let out a soft, breathy chuckle that didn’t feel anything like laughter. “Surprise?”Morgan blinked, slowly recovering. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated, more to himself than to me.I nodded.“For how long?”“Two weeks.”“I see” He sat back, absorbing that. Then, his voice low and even, “Then let me ask you, what do you want to do, Miss Anastasia?”I didn’t answer right away.Instead, I turned my gaze out toward the garden. The flowers were swaying gently in the breeze. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the lawn. It should have been a beautiful view. Peaceful. Soft. But all I could feel was the ache sitting beneath my ribs.“I want to file a divorce and keep my child hidden from Regan,” I said finally, the words slipping out like glass.Morgan didn’t respond, but I could feel the tension in the air sharpen.I let out another hollow laugh—bitter this time, raw and sharp. “He told me to abort it if I was ever pregnant,” I said, my lips curling into a smile that f