Wet For Daddy のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

Chloe’s POV I had barely taken three steps toward the quieter corridor when I felt her presence.Margaret.She didn’t announce herself. She never did. She appeared like she owned the space, heels clicking softly against the marble floor, posture perfect, chin lifted. The music from the hall was muffled here, replaced by low lighting and silence thick enough to suffocate.I stopped walking.I didn’t turn immediately. I already knew why she was here.“So,” she said coldly behind me. “This is what you do.”I turned slowly to face her.Her eyes were burning. Not rage yet. Something sharper. Disgust mixed with jealousy she would never admit to.“You show up uninvited,” she continued, stepping closer, “dress like temptation itself, and sit there like you own what isn’t yours.”“I was invited,” I replied flatly. “Check your records.”She laughed, short and bitter. “You always have an answer.”“I learned from the best,” I said.That landed.Her lips tightened. “Do you know what you are?”I t

Chloe’s POV No disappointment. No relief. Just acceptance.This wasn’t my moment. Not like this. Not yet.I glanced briefly toward Drake.He was watching me, not the stage. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes tightened when our gazes met. I looked away first.The awards continued.Department recognition. Team excellence. Community impact. Each category unfolded with the same careful choreography. The night moved forward steadily, almost mechanically, as if everyone was determined to stick to the script.But beneath it all, tension hummed.Every time a name was announced, eyes darted subtly toward Margaret, gauging her reaction. Every mention of leadership drew attention to Drake. Every applause carried a faint edge, as if people were clapping not just for the winners but for the illusion of stability.Toward the end, the announcer returned to the podium one final time.“And now,” she said, “a special recognition.”The room quieted again.“This award,” she continu

Chloe’s POV I shrugged lightly and immediately regretted it when my head throbbed harder. “I didn’t want… this.”“This what?” he asked, stepping closer.I gestured vaguely at him. “Concern. Questions. You hovering.”He ignored that completely. His hand came up, resting briefly on my forehead before I could stop him. His touch was cool. My skin burned under it.“You’re hot,” he muttered.I pulled away weakly. “Don’t.”“You have a fever,” he said, not asking. “And you’re pale.”“I know,” I snapped, then softened when another wave of dizziness hit. “I know something’s wrong.”He looked around the room, taking in the untouched water bottle on the bedside table, the discarded dress, the shoes by the door, the faint smell of sickness in the air.“You’ve been throwing up,” he said.I didn’t answer.He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sit.”“I am sitting,” I said.“Lie down,” he corrected.I obeyed, not because he told me to, but because my legs were already giving up on me. I

Drake’s POVI had faced boardrooms full of hostile men, hostile markets, hostile takeovers. None of that prepared me for watching Chloe unravel in front of me.She looked small sitting there on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, eyes too bright, like her thoughts were running faster than her body could keep up with. I’d seen fear before. This was different. This was panic wrapped in exhaustion, sharpened by rage.When the doctor said the word pregnant, something inside me had gone still.Not shock. Not disbelief.Certainty.I knew the moment she started spiraling that she would see this as a curse. Chloe never allowed herself softness. Life had taught her that softness was punished. She survived by staying sharp, alert, ready to fight.And now her own body had betrayed her.When she said she couldn’t keep it, it felt like a blade pressed against my ribs.Not because of ownership. Not because of pride.Because I could see exactly what she was doing.She was already trying to sacrifi

Drake’s POV She shrugged weakly. “I tried.”“That’s not an answer.”She didn’t argue. That told me enough.I walked into the kitchen and took stock. There wasn’t much, but there was enough. I rolled up my sleeves automatically, movements efficient, practiced. I filled a pot with water, set it to boil, and started on something simple. Nothing heavy. Nothing that would upset her stomach further.The kitchen felt foreign but familiar at the same time. I worked quietly, listening for any sound from the living room. Every few seconds, I glanced back to make sure she hadn’t collapsed.When the food was ready, I carried it out carefully and set it on the table in front of her.“Try,” I said. “Just a little.”She looked at the bowl like it might attack her.“I don’t think—”“I know,” I interrupted gently. “Just a few bites.”She lifted the spoon with trembling fingers, brought it halfway to her mouth, then stopped. Her hand shook harder.Without thinking, I took the spoon from her.“Hey,” s