บททั้งหมดของ My Substitute Husband Regrets Letting Me Go: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

EMMA'S POVWhat the hell? I blinked, my mind struggling to process what she’d just said. Ten million dollars. Divorce him. Leave.“What?” Did I seem cheap?“You heard me.” She placed the card on the coffee table between us, her manicured fingers lingering on it for just a moment before she withdrew. “I think it’s a fair offer. More than fair, actually. I'm sure you've never gotten this amount before so this should keep you afloat for a while.”My heart pounded, as I stared at the card, unable to look away. My hands clenched into fists in my lap, my nails digging into my palms.I hated Ava more than anything in this world.Every single thing she had done today was a part of her plan, taking me on a tour, explaining everything in the company. Ava didn’t just want me to feel out of place, she wanted me to crumble. What the employees had said, the way she and Sebastian bonded over riches, the glint and smirk she always had on when I was uncomfortable, she had planned everything.She had d

EMMA'S POVWhen I opened my eyes, it was like waking up from a coma. The lights were way too bright, and the beeping of some machine beside me made my head pound even worse. Everything felt sore, my arms, my legs, my belly, even my chest. What in the world happened to me? My vision was blurry as I looked down at my arm which was connected to an IV.I blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust, and then I saw him sitting there.Sebastian. He was right next to my hospital bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees like he’d been waiting for me to wake up. His face looked worried, but also... tired. He sat up straighter as soon as I moved, his voice soft. “Emma. You’re awake. Thank God. How are you feeling? Are you okay?” I didn’t answer him right away. I just stared at him, trying to process everything. How was I feeling? What kind of question was that? I felt awful, physically and... emotionally. But all I could focus on was the one thing that had been stuck in my head since

SEBASTIAN'S POV“Sebastian, I don’t want this,” Ava said, scrunching her nose at the tray of soup I’d just brought her. She shoved it away like it offended her.I sighed, already feeling my patience slipping. “What’s wrong with it now? You said you wanted soup.”“This isn’t right,” she snapped, tossing her head back against the pillow. “It’s too salty. And the bread? It’s dry. Stale, probably. I can’t eat this.”“Okay,” I said, trying to stay calm. “What do you want, Ava?”She made a big show of thinking, tapping her chin and staring up at the ceiling. I knew she already had something in mind, she just loved making me jump through hoops as always. “A fruit parfait,” she said finally. “But it has to be fresh. Like, with real berries. Not the frozen kind.”“Got it,” I muttered, already moving the tray away and bringing another flask closer.Ava had always been particular and picky about everything, but her demands had only grown more exhausting since she’d been admitted to the hospital.

EMMA'S POVIf not for the tiny, innocent fetus inside her, I would have loved to punch her. Okay, maybe not punch her, I'm not a violent person, but the thought of hitting her so she'd have sense? Very tempting. Sebastian would probably divorce me straight up.I gave her a forced smile before turning to Sebastian who also looked confused. "Uh, Seb," I said, forcing a smile as I glanced at him. "Looks like someone's in my seat." Sebastian hesitated, his hand resting on his door, his eyes flickering from me to Ava like he was trying to say something that wouldn't hurt the both of us. "Uh… Ava," he said, his voice low, "do you mind moving to the back? Emma usually rides in the front." Ava turned to him, her face lighting up with an expression so sweet it made me feel sick. "Oh, I would, Seb. Really. But I just can’t stretch my legs properly in the back. You know, with the baby and all…. It's just going to be a hard and painful process for the baby and I, you wouldn't want that right?

EMMA'S POV The salon smelled of lavender and hairspray, a mix that weirdly calmed me. My irritation began to melt away the moment I stepped inside. “Ah, there she is!” chirped the stylist, a woman with perfectly gelled red hair and a smile that could outshine the sun. “Come, darling, let’s have a look at you!” I barely had time to settle into the chair before she began fussing over me, her fingers quickly fluffing and smoothing my hair.I sat quietly staring straight at the mirror quietly until she was done.She tilted her head dramatically in front of me, as though she were critiquing a masterpiece. “Oh, honey, this cut is everything! Look at you! Just gorgeous,” she gushed, spinning me slightly so I could see myself from multiple angles. I managed a polite smile, my reflection mimicking the same polite enthusiasm I didn’t quite feel even though I was glad I looked pretty. “Thank you,” I murmured. The stylist leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So, who’s the l