All Chapters of MY DISABLED HUSBAND IS MY PRETTY BOY?: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

After James left, Derek had been sober.For the first time in many years, he wandered through his house with heavy heart.For the past few weeks, he had been held captive, but now, he was free.But for some reasons, the wight on his shoulders felt more heavier than ever.As he stood in the hallway, the distant ticking of the clock echoed through the house like a countdown to something he was not sure he could face.Everything felt different. The light did not shine the same way through the windows. The warmth of the place was gone, stripped away by betrayal, regret, and the unbearable truth.He moved slowly through the foyer, his steps heavy with uncertainty. On the far wall hung a series of framed pictures.The ones he had passed a thousand times but never truly looked at.His eyes locked on a small photo tucked near the edge. It was old, faded at the corners, but unmistakable.It was that of Roxanne.She was barely five years old when the picture was taken.Her smile was angelic.

The wine glass trembled slightly in Evelyn’s hand as she waited in the dimly lit lounge of James Ferguson’s private estate. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the room. It had been days since her release, and in that time, her world had shifted into something grotesquely unfamiliar. Her relationship with Derek can be described as strained.He barely looked at her and spoke to her, unless she does.She bad not seen her daughter since she cane back.James had told them she was being attended to in a mental institution.He did not tell them the location and spoke like he wanted them to know.She and Derek had also been too disoriented to ask.Evelyn was a woman used to control. To power. To having answers before questions were asked.Now, she had none.The door opened smoothly. James entered with his usual charisma wrapped in tailored black, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp as razors.“You came,” he said, voice soft yet mocking. “I was not su

The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. Derek sat stiffly at the far end of the long conference table, his arms crossed, eyes clouded with uncertainty. The table was polished to a high gloss, and the windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a view of the hazy city skyline. But none of that mattered, not to him.Opposite him, James Ferguson leaned back with an air of elegance that felt just slightly rehearsed. He adjusted the cufflinks on his charcoal suit and exhaled slowly.“This isn’t just about revenge, Derek,” James said, his tone slick and measured. He was trying to proposition him.“This is about reclaiming power. Position. Dignity. You may have lost your family… but that doesn’t mean you should live like a ghost.”Derek didn’t respond immediately. His hands twitched slightly where they rested on the arms of his chair. James noticed, but didn’t press. Not yet.“I’m offering you a way back,” James continued, sliding a folder across the table

Evelyn stood at the edge of the hotel terrace, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her phone. The moon was high, casting a silvery glow across the city, but there was no peace in her heart.It was late, but she had to use the cover of darkness to do what she needed to get done.The shadows of her choices clung to her like a second skin.Those choices she made that had now led to betrayal, heartbreak, and now, fear.Her message had been brief. She gave a time, and a location. No names. No details. Just enough to signal the man she once despised, and now sought for help.The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Ciel stepped out, flanked by two of his guards who remained near the hallway. He approached her calmly with a neutral expression.His eyes were unreadable.Evelyn also saw him as he came in and walked towards her.“You asked to meet,” he said coldly.Evelyn nodded, her voice shaking. “I do not expect forgiveness from you. I just need you to listen.”Ciel sa

The warehouse on the city’s eastern fringe looked like nothing more than a decaying husk-graffiti-smeared walls, sagging steel beams, and the faint stench of rust clinging to its bones. However, it's the centre of the a final move, a move that had taken many weeks to plan.James Ferguson stepped into the shadows of the warehouse like a man ready to seize his empire. His coat swirled behind him, his signature calm returned despite the firestorm Devian had ignited online just hours earlier. Reina’s name was all over the news, and though his team had tried to contain the damage, James knew the press was circling. Still, he had one more deal to solidify, one that would ensure his exit plan remained intact.The foreign investor he planned to meet, a gray-haired man with narrow eyes and a crooked posture, was waiting near the center of the space. Two briefcases sat by his feet, one full of untraceable funds, the other containing what was promised: next-generation weapon prototypes. Ja