บททั้งหมดของ Goodbye, Mr. Ex, I’ve Married Your Uncle : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Scarlett’s POV.The morning began with a knot in my stomach that had nothing to do with the baby. I had been waiting weeks for this appointment, my first sonar. I should have been excited, nervous, hopeful—but instead, I was tense, because Franchesca had appeared at breakfast, all smiles, and announced that she would be coming along.“Of course I’ll go,” she carried on breezily, sipping her tea. “It’s important that Leon has someone experienced by his side. He’d need all the support he can get with something as big and life-changing as a whole, new human. A Rosenthal. Scarlett, I’m sure you won’t mind.”My jaw clenched, but before I could reply, Leon looked up from his plate. His voice was calm, but there was firmness underneath it. “I appreciate the gesture, Franchesca, but this is Scarlett’s appointment,” he stated. “If she wants you there, she’ll say so. Otherwise, you’re not invited.”The silence that followed was heavy enough to choke on. Franchesca’s eyes locked on mine, sharp a

Scarlett’s POV.The morning started quietly. For once, I felt as though I could breathe in this house without Franchesca lurking around every corner. The staff were gentler with me than usual, their smiles wider, their greetings warmer. It was almost as if they sensed I needed the peace. I spent hours sketching, sipping tea, and reminding myself that not every day had to end in conflict. Maybe I could even let myself enjoy the small things—like the faint fluttering of the babies inside me when I leaned back in my chair.That illusion ended the second I went to check on the nursery.The door stood ajar. I frowned, pushing it open. My heart sank.Franchesca was inside.She stood in the middle of the room like it was hers, pointing at the walls, gesturing toward a pair of workers she had no business calling in. Rolls of fabric were stacked against the crib. Paint swatches lay scattered across the floor. She was rattling off instructions in her clipped, condescending voice, as if this wer

Leon’s POV.The phone on the side table vibrated against the wood, its shrill buzz cutting through the silence like it belonged to someone determined to intrude.I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.Only one person would call me at this hour, in the middle of a scandal that had already lit up every gossip outlet across the city. I answered without hesitation.Leorick’s voice burst through the line, furious and raw. “How dare you, Leon? How dare you tell the world that child is yours? You’re covering for her, aren’t you? Scarlett’s lying, and you’re backing her lies. That baby is Caden’s, and you know it. I don’t believe the supposed proof that you had bloodwork done.”I leaned back in the chair, forcing my tone to remain calm even as annoyance ran through me. “If you want proof, Leorick, I’ll be more than content to send you a copy of the medical results and then you can decide whether I made it up or not. The tests are indisputable. The babies is mine, and if that is

Franchesca’s POV.I sat in the corner of the foyer with my tea, pretending to scroll through my phone, when in reality my eyes were fixed on Scarlett.Or, as I’d like to call her—the minor, very temporary inconvenience in my plan.She was chatting far too happily with one of the maids, smiling as if they were best friends.Hmmm, how… fitting.It only seems expected that she would get along with the cleaners and servants of this household. That is exactly where she belongs. Scrubbing floors, folding laundry, serving food. Not sitting in Leon’s house as if she were his equal.Gah!As if she stood a chance!The sight of it boiled my blood, but I refused to let it show. I sipped my honey-mint tea and reminded myself that I was patient. I had waited years to see Leon again. I could wait a little longer to knock Scarlett down to where she belonged.I remembered the first time I saw the headlines about him. The miracle recovery, the sudden announcement of an heir. My jaw had almost dropped w

Leon’s POV.Scarlett agreed to the marriage, but the way she said it has stayed with me. I noticed her reluctance—how her eyes refused to meet mine. She looked at the crib instead, her hands gripping the blanket too tightly. She didn’t sound relieved or victorious. She sounded… resigned.I should have asked her what she was thinking. Instead, I told myself it was enough that she agreed. It is what needed to be done.The children need legitimacy. Their future needs security. A name strong enough to shield them.That was all that mattered.But as I walked away from the nursery, I couldn’t get rid of the image of her face. That sadness in her eyes cut deeper than I wanted to admit. She was agreeing to tie herself to me, and she already looked like she was bracing herself for a prison sentence.I tried to remind myself that this was not about her or about me.It was about the children. They are the priority. Yet the reminder did little to ease the weight in my chest.And then, as if summo