All Chapters of From My Ex's Betrayal To His Father's Bed: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

JULIAMarcus arranged for everything to be carefully loaded into a separate black van that had arrived discreetly at the back entrance of the mall. His men supervised the loading with quiet efficiency, making sure nothing was damaged and that the more delicate items were secured properly.I watched from a comfortable bench near the exit, my hand resting on my prominent twin bump. Marcus stood beside me, one arm wrapped securely around my waist, supporting my weight as I leaned into him.“You didn’t have to rent the whole mall,” I said again, though my voice was soft and grateful this time.He pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “I did. And I’d do it again tomorrow if you wanted to go back for more.”Once the van was fully loaded and on its way to the manor, Marcus turned to me with that intense, protective gaze I had come to love so much.“We’re not going straight home,” he said. “You’ve been on your feet most of the day, even if you tried to hide it. I made reservations for dinner

JULIAThe nursery was almost complete.I had spent most of the afternoon resting on the terrace, occasionally calling out small adjustments while Marcus and the team worked tirelessly. Everything looked beautiful — the blue and green accents, the soft bedding, the mobiles gently turning above the cribs. I should have felt happy and excited. Instead, a heavy, bitter feeling had settled in my chest the moment I saw them.Marcus was standing near the hallway outside the nursery, talking to a woman I didn’t recognize. She was tall, elegant, and dressed in a sleek black blouse and pencil skirt — clearly a designer. She held a tablet in one hand and was laughing brightly at something Marcus had just said. Her laugh was light and melodic, the kind that carried easily down the corridor.What made my stomach twist was the way she casually reached out and touched his arm—a soft, familiar slap, followed by her fingers lingering for a second too long as she leaned in to point at something on her

MARCUSThe storm had passed.Julia’s breathing had evened out against my chest, the last of her quiet tears drying on her cheeks. She was no longer tense or sulking, just soft and pliant in my arms, her body finally relaxing after the emotional rollercoaster. I kept one hand gently rubbing slow circles over her rounded belly, feeling the subtle firmness where our twin sons were growing, while my other arm stayed wrapped securely around her shoulders.She was calm now. Coaxed. Safe.I pressed another kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose, and finally to her slightly swollen lips. She let out a tiny, contented sigh and tilted her head up for more. I obliged happily, kissing her slow and sweet, tasting the salt of her earlier tears mixed with the warmth that was purely her.“You okay now, baby?” I murmured against her mouth.She nodded, her voice small but steady. “Yeah… I’m sorry I got so worked up.”“Don’t apologize,” I whispered, brushing my lips across her cheek. “You’re

JULIAThe excitement from the kicks still lingered in the air like electricity even after Mom and Phoebe had left the dining area. The chicken curry was finally ready, fragrant and perfectly spiced, and I was already on my second generous serving when Marcus walked through the front door earlier than expected.He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene—me at the table in his oversized shirt, belly proudly on display, a half-eaten plate of curry in front of me, and the pile of freshly folded baby clothes stacked neatly beside me. His eyes softened instantly, that intense, possessive warmth filling his gaze as it always did when he looked at me these days.“You’re glowing even more than when I left this morning,” he said, voice low and rough with affection. He crossed the room in long strides and leaned down to kiss me deeply, one hand automatically sliding to rest on the side of my heavy, rounded belly. “How are my boys treating their mama today?”Before I could answer, one of the t

PHOEBERafael drove with the same calm, focused intensity he had shown at the market. I sat in the back seat, clutching the plastic bags of ingredients like they were precious treasures. Every few seconds, my eyes kept drifting to him through the rearview mirror. The strong line of his jaw, the way his large hands gripped the steering wheel, the subtle flex of his biceps when he shifted gears.I quickly looked away every time he glanced back, cheeks burning.Stop it, Phoebe. He’s just doing his job.When we arrived, Rafael parked near the side entrance closest to the kitchen. He got out first and opened my door before I could even reach for the handle. Without a word, he took most of the heavy plastic bags from my hands, his bulky arms making the load look like nothing.“I’ve got these,” he said simply, voice deep and steady.I nodded, suddenly feeling even smaller beside him as we walked toward the dirty kitchen entrance. He carried four bags effortlessly in one hand while I held th