Todos los capítulos de Once Upon a Marriage : Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

Jennifer POV The taste of gin burned as it slid down my throat, bitter and biting, nothing like the expensive liqueurs I used to sip while signing fashion deals and flashing teeth at fake friends. My hand trembled as I poured another glass, ignoring the way my silk robe clung to my skin with a sheen of sweat. The penthouse was a wreck, curtains drawn tight, the once-gleaming marble floor now littered with crumpled papers, overturned glasses, and half-eaten takeout boxes. My world, once manicured to glossy perfection, now stank of desperation and spilled alcohol. “Sasha!” I screamed hoarsely. “Where the hell is my phone charger?” No answer. I kicked aside an empty bottle and stormed into the hallway, nearly tripping over my own bare feet. Marcyt’s room was empty. Her closet—open. Her suitcase? Gone. A note lay on the dresser. Jennifer, I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. I’ve stuck by you through everything, but I won’t be part of this implosion. I hope you get the help you need.

Lucian POVThe moment I stepped into Eloise’s atelier, a strange chill coiled around my spine. Not from the air conditioning, but from something else. The scent of jasmine and soft leather hit me the moment I crossed the threshold, and I stood there for a moment, absorbing it. The place felt like her. Clean lines, warm lighting, vases of dried lavender perched on mahogany shelves. It had grown, matured, just like she had.“Good afternoon, sir,” a young woman said politely from behind the front desk. She was new, probably hadn’t worked here when Eloise and I were… whatever we were.I nodded stiffly. “Is Eloise in?”The girl checked her tablet. “She said she’d be in today, but I’m not sure what time. Would you like to wait?”“Yes. Thank you.”She motioned toward the sitting area to the right. I took a seat on the plush navy armchair, the hum of quiet jazz music filling the space. I stared at the walls, framed with Eloise’s earliest sketches, some I remembered her hiding from me, calling

Eloise’s POV I walked into the room, my heels clicking at the marble floor as I settled into the hard wood bench, the wood cold unyielding under me. The air in the courtroom feels stale, like it’s been recycled through too many breaths of people waiting for something ugly to happen. There’s that faint, metallic smell in the air, maybe from the polished brass fixtures, maybe from nerves — and the low hum of whispers that sounds like a restless hive. Today was Jennifer's trial. Jennifer sits at the defense table, her hair perfectly smoothed into a glossy curtain, her blouse white, a deliberate performance of innocence. But her jaw is too tight, lips too polished. She’s playing the role for the gallery, but I can already see the cracks in the mask. I smooth the skirt of my black dress, not because it needs it but because it gives my hands something to do. My expression is a mirror of indifference. Inside, there’s a quiet, thrumming satisfaction, not joy, not glee, just the certainty o

Eloise’s POV The courthouse steps were still warm from the midday sun, but the air had that sharp bite of early winter, the kind that made my breath curl faintly in front of me. People spilled out of the building in uneven waves, reporters with cameras slung around their necks, legal assistants clutching stacks of folders, the curious bystanders who had nothing better to do than watch someone else’s downfall. Some reporters rush toward me, camera clicking, lenses glinting. ‘Ms Sinclair, any comment on your sister?’ One says. I walk past them without breaking stride, my heels striking the wide stone steps in a steady, deliberate rhythm. Black dress, black coat, hair pinned back neatly — not a single thing out of place. The hearing had gone exactly the way I wanted, and for once, there was no lingering sting, or anything threatening to make me soft. I was halfway to the bottom when I heard it. “Eloise.” I didn’t stop. The sound of my name in his voice was a familiar note in a son

Eloise – First Person POV I couldn’t stop replaying Jadeline’s voice in my head. It wasn’t even the exact words she’d said, although those were bad enough, it was the way she’d said them. Smooth, almost velvety, but with that undercurrent of something sharper.. The smile she’d worn the whole time hadn’t reached her eyes, and the way she’d lingered on certain words… It was almost like she wanted me to catch something she wasn’t saying out loud. By the time the sun dipped behind the high-rises that night, my stomach had been in knots for hours. The city lights below my apartment window flickered on one by one, blinking against the violet dusk. My phone sat on the coffee table like a silent accusation. I could’ve called Mike earlier, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t even told him about the meeting until he walked in and found me curled up on the couch, hair still damp from the shower, staring at the same spot on the wall. “You look like you’ve been auditioning for a ghost movie,” he said, drop