All Chapters of No Longer A Fool For You : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The pen clinked against the wooden desk, the sound echoing like a gavel as the registrar closed the thick book before them. Done. One quick scribble of her name, one arrogant scrawl of his—and just like that, Cassy found herself shackled in a marriage she hadn’t planned, hadn’t dreamed of, hadn’t even wanted.Her fingers trembled as she drew her hand back, staring down at the little gold band on her finger. It felt heavy, unreal. Her mind kept spinning with the same question: Is this really real? Did I just… marry Kael?She dared a glance at him. Kael stood beside her, towering and composed, his broad shoulders filling the space as though the entire courthouse existed only to witness his power. His face betrayed nothing—calm, unreadable, perfectly carved from stone. Beside him, she felt like a mismatched accessory, a scribble next to a flawless portrait.Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, a sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.“This is the worst thing you could e

Hand in hand, Cassy and Thomas stepped into the dining room. The chandelier bathed the long mahogany table in a warm golden glow, but the atmosphere was far from welcoming. At the head of the table sat Kael’s mother, dressed in a silk gown of deep green, her posture stiff, her eyes cold. Her gaze immediately fell on their joined hands. The glare she sent Cassy could have cut glass. Slowly, her head turned toward her son, who had just taken his seat at the far end of the table. “Kael,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain, “don’t tell me this thing is meant to be eaten on the same table with me.” Cassy stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. This thing. The words sliced through her like a knife. She felt Thomas squeeze her hand tighter, his small fingers clinging to hers in defiance. Kael’s expression barely shifted. He leaned back in his chair, unbothered, his gaze steady on his mother. “Mother,” he said coolly, “she’s not a thing. She’s my wife.” His mother scoffed

The heavy silence lingered in the dining room long after Cassy had left. The door had barely clicked shut when Thomas’s gaze drifted toward his father. Kael still sat there, calm as though nothing had happened, methodically cutting through his food and lifting each bite to his mouth. Thomas stared at him, his small fists clenched under the table. His father must have felt the weight of his stare, because Kael finally looked up, his brows drawn together. “What?” he asked flatly, his deep voice carrying irritation. “Why are you looking at me that way?” Thomas’s chest tightened, but he didn’t flinch. “I’m not going to do anything, Dad,” he said quietly. His voice was steady, though his eyes glimmered with something sharp—something that didn’t belong on a boy so young. Kael set down his fork with a soft clink, exhaling as though exhausted already. “What do you want me to do? Hm? I’ve done the best I can. I don’t understand what more you expect from me.” Thomas’s jaw twitche

The pounding on the door came sharp and relentless, loud enough to rattle the frame. Kael stirred with a groggy grunt, his brows knitting in irritation as the sound dragged him unwillingly from the warmth of sleep. He shifted slightly on the mattress, but the moment he moved, he realized something wasn’t right. His arm was pinned. Not just pinned—someone’s hand rested over his chest, light but firm, as if clinging to him. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light seeping through the curtains, and his entire body stilled. Cassy. She was right there beside him, nestled against his side, her head pressed gently into the crook of his shoulder. Her long hair spilled across him like a soft curtain, and her breathing was calm, deep—the unmistakable rhythm of someone lost in heavy sleep. Kael’s brows shot up, surprise jolting through his sleep-hazed mind. He was absolutely certain that last night, she had tucked herself as far away from him as possibl

Cassy stirred awake to the faint, fractured murmur of voices seeping in from beyond the door. At first, it wasn’t language at all, just muffled tones brushing the edge of her half-dreams, the kind of indistinct noise the mind folds into its own fabric. She thought perhaps she was still dreaming—that the voices belonged to ghosts her subconscious had conjured, shadows of people she had once known. But the more her eyes fluttered, blinking herself into awareness, the clearer the sound became. The muffles sharpened into syllables, into words. And those words carried weight—firm, clipped, heated. Not soft at all. Not kind. Her temples ached faintly, as though the night had been long and her rest shallow. She squeezed her eyes shut again, willing herself to sink back into sleep, to push away the tugging reality waiting outside. A quiet groan escaped her lips, swallowed by the pillow. Already? her mind muttered with irritation. It’s too early for this headache. Too early for them.