บททั้งหมดของ Remarried Again; My Husband's Brother.: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Scarlette.“You’re pregnant. Aren’t you?” I said slowly, my eyes sweeping over her frame without shame, without apology. “I mean—you should be. So where is it?”Emelia’s lips pressed into a thin line before she scoffed, chin lifting in defiance. “And how is that any of your business, Scarlette? Why are you even here? Let me guess—you knew I’d be here, didn’t you? You always do things like this. You plan them.”I laughed, a short, incredulous sound that even surprised me. “Oh my god,” I said, shaking my head. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Why is it that you and your husband think the entire world revolves around the two of you? Like everything is a competition. Like every breath someone else takes is somehow meant to challenge you.”I gestured around us, at the aisles, the shelves, the ordinary people pretending not to stare. “I came here because I need things for when I go into labor,” I said, my voice steady but sharp. “Things for my baby. But of course, to you, it suddenly beco

Scarlette. I woke up to an empty bed.For a moment, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar quiet of the house. After the night we’d had, I expected Liam beside me—his warmth, his arm slung protectively around my waist. Instead, there was nothing. Just the faint hum of distant activity.Sometimes, against my better judgment, my mind drifted to the intimacy we shared. It had been good. More than good. It was something Ethan had denied me for years—connection without control, desire without manipulation. With Liam, I never felt like I had to earn affection or beg to be seen. And maybe that was why everything felt so complicated now.I pushed myself out of bed slowly, my hand instinctively going to my stomach, and followed the low murmur of voices—or rather, the rapid clicking of keys.Liam was in the study.He sat behind the desk, laptop open, glasses perched on his nose—a rare sight that made him look sharper, more severe. His attention was so locked o

Scarlette. I stood on the dimly lit floor of mine and Liam’s spacious bedroom, directly in front of the tall mirror that stretched from the floor almost to the ceiling. The lights were low—intentional. Soft enough to blur imperfections, sharp enough to reflect truth.The dress clung to me in a way that felt almost ironic. If it weren’t for my protruding stomach, it might have swallowed me whole. Drowned me in fabric and shadows. Instead, the curve of my belly gave it shape, purpose, presence. Proof.My hair was pulled into a nearly perfect bun, slightly loose at the edges, the way stylists liked to describe as “effortless elegance.” I tilted my head slightly, studying myself—not just admiring the reflection, but calculating it. Measuring how this face would read under flashing lights. How convincing it would look when I played my role later tonight.Through the mirror, my gaze drifted—not to myself this time, but to the drawer behind me.The documents were there.Ethan’s infertilit

Liam. I had no idea what was happening.She was fine.She was fine until suddenly she wasn’t.Scarlette had been screaming in pain the entire drive, clutching my arm like I was the only thing keeping her on this side of the world. By the time the car screeched to a stop at the hospital entrance, her dress was soaked through, and the sight of it burned into my skull.The nurses took her from me on a stretcher.Just like that.My Brownie.Gone behind double doors that slammed shut in my face.My head was spinning. I kept staring at my hands—still sticky, still stained with her blood. It was on my shirt too, smeared across the white fabric like proof I had failed her before anyone even told me so.I paced the hallway like a madman.I tried not to punch the walls.Tried not to imagine the worst.A few minutes later I saw Rayne—Scarlette’s friend and her doctor—rushing toward me. His coat was half open, his expression tight. He looked almost as shaken as I felt.“Hey,” he said.The soun

Scarlette. The nurse’s words kept thumping inside my head, over and over, like a bad echo that refused to die. None of it was sticking. Rayne kept asking questions, his voice drifting in and out, something about the nurse who had been on duty, about logs, about protocols—but it all sounded distant, like I was underwater.My legs could barely hold me anymore.I didn’t even know what I was supposed to feel first—fear, rage, confusion, or grief. All of them were fighting for space in my chest.Liam kept firing questions too. Him and Rayne both, their voices overlapping, directed at the nurse who stood there looking smaller by the second. But I couldn’t even follow what they were saying. Every word felt like noise instead of answers.“Where the hell is my child?!” I shouted.My voice cracked through the unit, loud enough that one of the machines beeped sharper than before.“This is bullshit! All of this is bullshit!” I cried. “I’m supposed to have my baby in my hands right now. I’m