Semua Bab Goodbye, Mr. Ex, I’ve Married Your Uncle : Bab 141 - Bab 150

Scarlett’s POV.The brunch turned out better than I had dared to hope. Everyone left smiling, gift bags in hand, bellies full, and eyes wide with disbelief that Leon Rosenthal, their always too busy to make time for anyone boss, of all people—had treated them so warmly.Even after the tables were cleared and the garden was empty, I could still hear the staff’s laughter echoing faintly in my ears.Leon, of course, wasn’t interested in basking in the afterglow of success. The moment the last maid walked out, he dismissed the entire staff for the remainder of the day, insisting they deserved it.Even Ezra had tried to argue, clutching his clipboard like it was his last defense against the supposed end of the world, but Leon was immovable. He ordered him home, too, and made it abundantly clear that Ezra would be in serious trouble if he showed up at the mansion in the duration of the two weeks he’s supposed to be on vacation.The house fell into an unusual silence after that. There were n

Scarlett’s POV.The ride home had been quiet, but the kind of quiet that wrapped around me like a soft blanket instead of pressing down on me like it once had. I still couldn’t believe how wonderful the day had been. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed that much, or smiled without holding back, or felt free from the weight of my past. Maybe I never had. Not until today.As soon as we stepped inside the manor, I found myself wandering straight toward the nursery. Something pulled me there, a need to put the last finishing touch on what had been such a perfect day.The moment I walked in, my eyes swept over the pale cream walls, the golden light spilling through the curtains, the small details I had fussed over for weeks.I carried the frame I had ordered and the charcoal sketch we’d had done in the park. With careful fingers, I placed the drawing into the frame, smoothing it out as though it were made of something delicate. I hung it in the middle of the wall above the cribs, t

Scarlett’s POV.Leon didn’t speak right away. He just sat there, his hands resting loosely on the wheel, his gaze fixed forward. The quiet inside the car grew heavier by the second, pressing down on me until I found myself fidgeting with the strap of my purse.I could feel him thinking, weighing whether or not to say something, and every nerve in me screamed that this was it—that he was going to bring up the kiss I had been trying so desperately to forget.My palms were damp, my throat tight. The longer he stayed silent, the more convinced I became that he was searching for the right words to let me down gently.Finally, he exhaled a soft sigh. “Good luck,” he finally said. His voice was calm, measured, offering nothing more.Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest, leaving me off balance. Before I could respond, the locks clicked. I blinked in surprise as Leon stepped out of the car, his movements brisk and deliberate as he rounded the front of the car to my side.Of course. He

Scarlett’s POV.I couldn’t believe the words that had come out of my father’s mouth. The sound of them replayed in my head over and over again, cutting into me in a way I knew would linger for the rest of my life.He looked at me with disgust and pure disappointment, his voice bitter, and his accusations unrelenting. He had torn apart every part of me he could find and left me with nothing but shame.It was hard to breathe through it.I had never wanted much from him. I had never asked for wealth, never asked for his approval in my work or my choices. I only wanted to be his daughter. Not perfect, not extraordinary, just accepted. To be loved. But even that was too much for him.By the time Leon pulled me into his arms, I was already broken. His words came in strong, steady tones, trying to undo the horrible things that had been said to me.He told me my father’s words were meaningless, that they didn’t define me. I wanted to believe him.I wanted to take the strength in his voice and

Scarlett’s POV.I could feel Leon’s gaze on me from across the table, but I couldn’t meet his eyes for long. Every time I did, I reminded myself that he was only here because he felt bad for me. Because of what happened with my father.Because I cried and he didn’t know what else to do.I told myself not to read into any of it.I told myself not to want anything more from this night than what it was—a polite dinner. But every time his hand brushed the table near mine or when his eyes softened, that logic slipped further away.Leon seemed quieter than usual. I could tell he was trying to read me. I tried to look calm, busying myself with cutting food into small pieces I barely ate. I was aware of every little thing—the sound of the glasses clinking, the hushed tone of conversations around us, the subtle fragrance of the place that mixed with the faint cologne Leon always wore.Every few minutes, his expression shifted, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. That only con