All Chapters of Goodbye, Mr. Ex, I’ve Married Your Uncle : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Scarlett’s POV.The morning I started my first official project as a designer, I told myself everything would be fine. I stood in front of the mirror longer than I normally would, smoothing the wrinkles from my blouse, adjusting my cardigan, checking that my makeup looked light but professional. I wanted to look confident, capable, and completely in control.I knew with my due date drawing closer, I would likely be able to work for another six weeks, before I would be forced to take maternity leave.I was already growing restless by the idea of taking off—but then again, I was sure that two babies would keep me busy.I smiled slightly, placing a hand on my belly. I was looking forward to meeting them more and more each day.Leon had offered to drive me, but I insisted on taking a company car that had been sent for me instead. I wanted to walk through the doors of that building on my own, not as the woman living in Leon Rosenthal’s house but as Scarlett Lemaire, a designer who was full

Scarlett’s POV.By Friday morning I had convinced myself I could survive one more day. The weekend was practically within reach. I repeated that to myself until the words lost meaning. One more day—just one more day.I had worn that phrase thin until it had no weight, until it stopped comforting me at all.Peter Blaine met me at the doorway the way he always did: overtly warm, a practiced friendliness that did not reach his eyes. He leaned against the frame as if he didn’t have a single care in the world, speaking in a smooth voice that made me more than just uncomfortable. “Morning, Scarlett. You look bright today.”My reply was automatic. I kept my shoulders straight and my tone flat. “Good morning, Mr. Blaine. I’ve already started on the floor plan you asked for. I’ll have a draft by the end of the day.”He walked into the room and stayed. People give hints when they want to be left alone; he ignored mine that were blatantly obvious. He talked about productivity and dedication, and

Scarlett’s POV.By the time I got home Friday night, I was beyond exhausted. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint patter of rain against the kitchen window. I wanted to collapse on the couch, maybe watch something brainless on TV, anything to distract myself.But then my phone buzzed.“URGENT NOTICE: PROJECT REVISION SESSION TOMORROW, 9 A.M. Attendance mandatory.”The message glared at me from my screen, and my stomach dropped.I read it twice, then three times, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. My first instinct was to reply and remind them that the agreement clearly stated Monday through Friday work hours. But then I thought of the CEO—Mr. Blaine—and the way he smiled when I hesitated around him, like he was testing how far he could push.He’d find a way to twist my objection into “attitude” or “unwillingness to cooperate.”So, I swallowed my frustration and sent a short reply: Understood. I’ll be there.It was almost midnight by the

Scarlett’s POV.The morning sunlight stretched across the bedroom floor when I opened my eyes. For a few seconds, I didn’t move. My body felt too heavy, my head foggy. The events of the previous day came rushing back piece by piece—Leon’s expression when he said he had “handled it,” my sharp words in return, the silent car ride home.I turned on my side, and that’s when I saw it. It was a tray on the small table beside the bed. Breakfast. A plate of toast, a few slices of fruit, and a cup of tea that still let out a faint curl of steam.Next to it was a neatly folded note, written in Leon’s steady handwriting.“Had to leave early for the office. Please eat something.—L.”That was it.The words were simple, almost too straightforward. Not unkind, but distant, as if we’d taken several steps back overnight. My stomach tightened. He was being polite again. Careful.Professional, even. It was the kind of tone he used with investors, not with me.I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around

Scarlett’s POV.I woke up feeling a lot better than I had since working for Mr. Blaine. The tension that had sat in my chest for weeks seemed to ease, replaced by something lighter. Maybe peace. Maybe exhaustion. Either way, I took it.It was an improvement compared to everything else.The house was still. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gold against the floorboards. I took my time getting ready, moving slowly intentionally, trying not to think too much. For once, there was no rush.Leon had left early for work, but he’d made coffee before leaving. I could tell by the faint scent still lingering in the kitchen. The smallest gestures with him always said the most.By mid-morning, I found myself in the nursery again. The room had started to take shape: clean lines, muted tones, soft fabrics. A space that finally looked like it belonged to us—to them. Two tiny lives who, somehow, had already rearranged the entire course of mine.I spent the next few hours unpacking