All Chapters of Rejected by my Husband: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW After finishing the last bite of his popsicle, Ethan slid off the rug and padded toward the kitchen, sticky fingers leaving faint marks on the counter as he reached for his Spider-Man plastic glass. He dragged a chair closer, climbed up with effort, and turned the tap on just enough to fill half the glass, water splashing everywhere, but he didn’t care. When he was done, he gripped the glass with both hands, careful not to spill it. He walked back into the living room with slow, deliberate steps, tongue poking out in concentration. “Uncle,” he said softly, holding the glass up. “Drink.” Reid froze. For a second, he just stared at the small offering, the cheap plastic glass, the water sloshing inside, the child standing in front of him with such earnest seriousness. Karline watched from a distance, breath caught in her throat. Reid reached out carefully, as if afraid the moment would vanish if he moved too fast. “This is for me?” Ethan nodd

THRID PERSON POINT OF VIEW A WEEK AGO...Reid stood in the kitchen of the apartment he had carefully kept hidden from everyone. The place was modest, nothing like his usual penthouses, close to Ethan’s hospital, quiet, practical. A place chosen with one purpose only.The kitchen, however, looked like a battlefield.A pan smoked aggressively on the stove. Something that might have once been vegetables lay half-burnt, half-raw. Reid stood in front of it with his sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched, stirring like the pan had personally offended him.James leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching with open amusement.“I just want to confirm something,” James said lazily. “Are you trying to cook… or conducting a chemical experiment?”Reid shot him a glare. “It’s food.”James sniffed the air dramatically. “That’s very bold of you to assume.”Reid turned back to the stove, flipping whatever was in the pan with unnecessary force. “People cook every day. I can manage one meal.”James g

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW AFTER SOME DAYSReid’s office was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of silence that hummed in the ears. Floor-to-ceiling windows let the pale daylight spill across the polished desk, highlighting neatly stacked files he hadn’t touched in the last ten minutes.His mind was elsewhere.The knock came soft and almost hesitant.“Come in,” Reid said, already knowing who it would be.The door opened and Natalie stepped inside, a bright smile pasted carefully on her lips. She was dressed delicately, almost modestly today, cream blouse, soft curls pinned back. In her hands was a neatly packed lunch bag, still warm, the faint aroma of home-cooked food escaping into the room.“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said sweetly. “I just thought… you might’ve skipped lunch again.”Reid stood up immediately, his expression shifting into practiced warmth. “Natalie,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “You didn’t have to.”“But I wanted to,” she replied, placing the

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW The knock on Reid’s office door was sharp, precise. The kind that didn’t ask for permission.Reid looked up from the documents spread across his desk, already knowing who it was.“Come in,” he said.The door opened, and Margaret Carter walked in with the same commanding presence she carried everywhere. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, posture flawless, eyes sharp and assessing as they swept across the office.Reid immediately stood.“Mom,” he said, moving around the desk. “You’re early.”Margaret gave a faint smile. “I was in the area.”Which, translated, meant she planned to be here.Reid gestured toward the seating area near the window. “Please, sit.”Margaret didn’t hesitate. She took the seat as if it belonged to her, setting her purse neatly beside her.Reid turned toward the door and pressed the intercom. “Can you bring some tea inside? Chamomile. And coffee as well.”“Yes, Mr. Carter,” came the quick reply.Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Cha

Reid’s Point of ViewI was only half paying attention.That was the worst part.The cameras were flashing. Laughter was loud. Too loud. Everything felt staged, polished, unreal. I stood there with practiced composure, the role everyone expected of me sitting perfectly on my shoulders, even though my chest felt tight for reasons I refused to name.And then I saw movement.Too sudden.Too wrong.Karline.For a split second my mind didn’t understand what my eyes were seeing. A stumble. A sharp shift of balance. White fabric blurring against the table edge. Gravity pulling her down in a way that felt cruel and unnecessary.My heart dropped.Hard.The cake.The table.Her body falling.Time slowed in that horrifying way where you are aware of everything and powerless all at once.Her ankle.The same ankle.The one I’d already seen hurt.No.My breath caught painfully as she went down. I didn’t hear anything else. The music vanished. The chatter disappeared. The entire room narrowed to the