Warm My Bed, Little Pumpkin! のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 291 - チャプター 300

THAT was one condition met for day one. Next on his list, Oswald was to do something special. He had it figured out already, Orlanda had said, something out of place, something unusual. And so, he was gonna do this; spend a whole day without giving a single order, just ask, politely. This was something out of place right? Something unusual. And so he did.The staff at the office had barely started their after break routines when the buzz began."Did he just say please?" A junior staff whispered to her colleague next to her."I thought I misheard," the colleague replied, adjusting his glasses.Oswald asked his chef at the office if lunch could be brought to his lounge. He asked. He didn't bark. He didn't glare. He didn't threaten. He just asked, with a low, calm tone and a quiet please. The chef staff nearly dropped her phone in shock.Nathan stared at him like he had grown a second head.“You good, boss?” he was forced to ask.Oswald glanced sideways at him. “I’m in the best mood. W

TRUE to her word, Orlanda took care of King like he was her own, just as she used to do. She had her chauffeur accompany Kate back to the Grimes’ house to pack up the necessary clothes and supplies she would need for the next three days. Another chauffeur was placed in charge of picking King up from school and bringing him home safely. Orlanda ensured he was well-fed, bathed, and assisted with his school works brought home. He lacked nothing.But for Kate, it was pure hell.She swept, she dusted, she washed, her limbs ached in places she didn’t know could hurt. Her pride was battered, her dignity buried beneath the uniforms she had once scorned.Now she stood in the kitchen, glaring at the potatoes and vegetables before her like they were her enemies. She rolled up the sleeves of the stiff uniform, cursing under her breath as she reached for the chopping board.Just then, Orlanda walked in, barefoot and calm, dressed in a silk robe. Her presence immediately shifted the air, and Kate s

QUEEN had barely gotten out of her car when the gate to the Escobar estate slid open on its own. She hadn't been interrogated, and no one had asked who she was, which only meant one thing, someone in the mansion had seen her arrival and allowed her in. Or perhaps, the guards had grown so used to her presence that protocol had been thrown out the window.Today, she came unannounced, but with a mission. After several sleepless nights and Bianca’s piercing words ringing in her head, Queen had resolved to do something she hadn’t done in her entire life.Beg.Her hairy flipflop slapped against the smooth stone pavement as she walked further into the compound. She was dressed casually, yes, but her version of casual still screamed seduction. She wore a short cream-colored gown with a deep neckline that showcased her cleavages, fitting her like a glove. Her hair flowed down her shoulders in perfect curls, her makeup was flawless, and her lips, glossed in a sweet cherry red, curved into a hop

QUEEN sat silently in her lavish bedroom, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched. Her phone had been ringing endlessly since morning. Bianca’s calls alone had come in over fifteen times. She didn’t need to answer to know what it was about. That damned photo. The viral photo of Oswald and that maid, Orlanda circulating all over the internet like wildfire.Queen had seen it too. Her hands had trembled slightly when she first saw the image. She even knew when it was taken, she was there. The photo was too intimate, too personal, too telling.But she didn’t allow it shake her. Not entirely.‘Let the world see whatever they want to see,’ she thought bitterly. ‘That visit wasn’t in vain. Oswald may have ignored me, but at least I taught that dirty maid a lesson. She will think twice before placing her filthy hands on something that belongs to me.’A small smirk tugged at her lips at the memory, how she had pulled Orlanda by the hair and screamed, trying to scratch at her face before the guards

THE sky was a misty grey, its clouds layered like velvet curtains drawn over the sun. The air hung heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the distance and the echo of shoes crunching on gravel. A sleek black sedan pulled up quietly at the side of a quiet road, near the entrance of Rosefield Memorial Cemetery.The back door opened.Oswald stepped out first, dressed in a clean, fitted black suit with a subtle satin sheen. His dark hair was neatly styled, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, though the set of his jaw already betrayed the storm beneath. His presence was commanding, yet muted today, no air of authority, no need to assert control. Only the quiet strength of a man present for something sacred.Then came Orlanda.She stepped out gently, her hand in Oswald’s, her black dress flowing elegantly around her ankles like liquid shadow. Her hair was pinned up, a delicate black veil draped lightly at the back of her head. In her other hand, she held a