บททั้งหมดของ The CEO'S SECRET BRIDE : บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

The mansion buzzed with constant noise that afternoon. Tailors decorators and planners filled every corner their voices blending into one restless hum. Victoria stood in the middle of it all tall and elegant, her eyes sharp as she gave orders. “The flowers must be white and gold, not cream. Cream looks dull” she said. “Yes Ma’am” one of the decorators said. “And the tablecloths should have lace edges not plain ones. This is a wedding not a luncheon” she said. The decorator nodded quickly scribbling notes. Victoria turned and clapped her hands. “Where is the chef? I asked for a tasting at noon” she said. “He’s on his way ma’am” the maid said. “He should have been here already” she said. Carson stood by the staircase watching her. His face was calm but his eyes were tired. Every day since the argument with Bridget he had felt more like a stranger in his own house. “Carson come here dear” Victoria said. He walked down slowly. “What is it Mother?” he asked. “I need your opin

As Anabelle walked out of the office the cool evening air felt gentle against her face. The city lights twinkled like little stars and she couldn’t stop smiling. Her steps were swift and her heart felt light. She took out her phone and called Fred. He heard the second ring. He said “Hey, what's that smile in your voice?” “I want to share something important with you.” she said “You seem excited,” he said. “What is it?” “I will tell you face-to-face.” She said “Are you home?”“Yes, I just returned from work,”he said. “I’ll be over” she said. “All right, move quickly. I'll place an order, " he declared. She said “All right see you soon.”She flagged a cab as the call came to an end. She was constantly grinning when she was reflected in the window. “I did it,” she muttered to herself. The hallway of Fred's apartment was filled with the aroma of food when she arrived. Quickly she knocked. Fred, still in his casual shirt, opened the door. He said “You ran here didn't you?”“Perh

Fred sat on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped together. The house was quiet, too quiet. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual. He let out a soft sigh and looked around the living room that once felt full of life.Anabelle’s laughter used to fill this space. He could almost hear it echoing faintly in the corners of the room. Her favorite blanket still rested on the armchair, folded neatly, just the way she liked it. Fred reached out and touched it, his chest tightening as memories flooded back.He remembered how she used to hum softly while cooking breakfast. The scent of toast and coffee would drift through the house every morning. Now, the kitchen was spotless and silent, the counters empty, the air still. It felt strange not to hear her voice singing off-key.When she told him she had found her own place, Fred smiled. He told her he was proud, and he truly was. But deep inside, something heavy began to settle. He knew this was what he wanted for he

Carson stood in the middle of the ballroom, his eyes scanning the chaos around him. Workers moved about, carrying flowers, setting tables, and adjusting decorations. The air smelled of roses and fresh paint. He tugged at his collar, feeling the tightness spread across his chest.Victoria stood by the stage, her voice sharp and commanding. “The centerpieces must be higher! Everything must look perfect!” she said. Carson sighed quietly. Her tone had not changed in weeks. Every day felt like a performance, and he was the unwilling actor.He watched as Bridget walked in, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her eyes shone with excitement as she inspected the arrangements. “It’s beautiful, Carson! Can you believe it’s almost here?” she said, holding his arm. Carson smiled weakly. “Yeah, almost,” he said.Bridget turned to a planner nearby. “Make sure the champagne matches the tablecloth color,” she said. Carson frowned slightly. “I think champagne is champagne,” he murmured.

The ballroom shimmered with light, chandeliers sparkling like frozen stars overhead. Glasses clinked, laughter mingled with soft music, and the murmur of conversation created a warm, bustling hum. Anabelle moved through it all with ease, a glass of sparkling water in her hand, her dress hugging her frame in a way that made her feel elegant yet entirely herself.“Anabelle, over here!” a colleague called, waving from across the room.She smiled and approached, nodding politely to others as she passed. “Good evening,” she said, her voice calm and measured, carrying confidence she hadn’t felt in years.“You look amazing,” her colleague said, offering a small bow.“Thank you,” she replied, laughing softly. “It’s been a busy few weeks, but I’m finally starting to feel settled.”As she spoke, she noticed the subtle nods, the way people leaned slightly toward her when she spoke, the attention she drew without trying. She felt a quiet thrill—this was the Anabelle she had been working towar