Lahat ng Kabanata ng Once Upon a Marriage : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Jennifer POV I crossed my legs slowly, as I sat in the cold metal chair of the police station’s interview room. The fluorescent light above buzzed faintly. Its cold glare bounced off the whitewashed walls and reflected in the polished surface of the desk between me and the two detectives seated across from me. One of them, a woman with a clipped voice and a too-tight ponytail, folded her hands on the table and gave me that patronizing look I hated. “Miss Sinclair,” she began, tone flat, “we’ve reviewed the statement provided by Eloise Sinclair. She claims you assaulted her at the cafe, and that the altercation led to her hospitalization.” “She fainted,” I interrupted, keeping my voice even, almost bored. “I don’t know why she’s making up all this drama. She showed up at the cafe, saying she wanted us to talk, then she started yelling and crying. She slipped. I tried to help, but she was already unconscious. I panicked.” The male officer, broader-shouldered, with the type of mustac

Jennifer POVPing.Buzz.Ding.Ping.My phone wouldn’t stop. It vibrated against my nightstand like it had a soul of its own, rattling glass and nerve endings alike. I yanked it off the marble surface with a hiss and clutched it tightly, as if my grip could stop the bleeding.“Turn off,” I muttered, pressing the lock button repeatedly.But the screen kept waking, each notification pushing itself to the top with screaming urgency.#JusticeForEloise“Disgusting human being.”“This is who your faves are?”Video link: Jennifer attacks Eloise.Screenshots inside.My heart plummeted. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I tapped the screen, thumb trembling as I opened Instagram. The video had already racked up 4.3 million views.I sat frozen, my phone clutched in my hands like a ticking bomb. The frame showed my face twisted in anger, my booted foot raised—then the sickening moment it connected with Eloise’s stomach. The impact, the way Eloise dropped to the floor, her head bouncing off the

Mike POV The white linoleum floors reflected the early afternoon sunlight that crept in through the window slats. It had been nearly two weeks since Eloise’s surgery, and the air in her hospital room had changed, less sterile, more lived-in. A small bouquet of artificial tulips sat in a glass vase on her bedside table, their edges slightly frayed. The discharge papers were due tomorrow. The doctors had done their part. Now it was my turn. Eloise shifted beneath the thin hospital sheets, propping herself up with a soft grunt. Her hair was gathered in a lazy braid, the kind she did when she didn’t want to try too hard but still wanted to feel like herself. I watched her fingers, always so delicate and artistic, now fidgeting with the corner of the sheet. “Mike,” she said softly, her voice still hoarse in that way that made my chest ache. “You never told me what they found. After the surgery.” I froze. I had hoped she’d forget. That the flurry of pain and painkillers, Max’s video ca

Lucian’s POV I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second. The night bled into the morning slowly. I sat in the dark with my elbows on the dining table, the cold marble pressing into my forearms. The city lights blinked outside the window like distant warnings. But all I could see was her face. Eloise. And Max. My son. My phone had sat beside me all night, its screen lighting up now and then with meaningless notifications, news, stocks, reminders. Not a single thing that mattered. Nothing that could rewind time. By six a.m., I had already found Mike’s number. I didn’t save it under his name. Just digits I memorized long ago when I thought I’d never need them again. I pressed call. One ring. Two. Then his voice answered, low and clipped. “Yeah?” “It’s Lucian.” My throat was tight, like the words barely made it out. Silence stretched so long I thought he’d hung up. Then, flatly, “Why the hell are you calling me?” “I want to talk,” I said, standing from the table and pacing toward th

Lucian POV The elevator hummed as it descended to the private parking lot. My reflection stared back at me in the mirrored walls,sharp, cold, and detached. I had perfected the look over years of boardroom battles, the tailored suits, the impassive face, the aura of someone who never faltered. But inside, something else boiled, a slow-burning rage that refused to simmer. I hadn’t slept. Not properly. Not since the meeting with Mike. His words haunted me more than I cared to admit. Eloise. The message. The kidney. All the truths that Jennifer had buried beneath herbsaccharine smiles. I should have known. I should have seen it. The moment the elevator pinged open, Eva, my personal assistant, stood waiting like clockwork. But one look at her and I paused. Her face was pale. She held out her phone. “Sir… there’s something you need to see. It came in anonymously this morning.” I took it. An email. The subject line read: “Your Fiancée’s Real Lover.” Attached were photos. Blurry at