Lies of a Pregnant Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

“Sophia?” Alyssa waved a hand in front of her face.Sophia blinked, finally snapping back to reality. The luxurious private booth came into focus, and she quietly let out a breath of relief.“What’s wrong? I’ve been calling your name for a while,” Alyssa asked, her expression full of concern.“I’m fine.”Sophia shook her head lightly and changed the subject. “Alyssa, what’s going on between you and Henry now?”Alyssa’s face stiffened. “What kind of question is that? There’s nothing between us.”Her lips curled in a bitter smile. “If anything, I wish he’d drink himself to death already—then he can join his precious first love in the underworld.”Sophia looked at her, a complicated mix of sympathy and sadness in her eyes. She had seen how deeply Alyssa and Henry once loved each other. She never imagined things would end like this.She also hadn’t expected Henry to be that cruel—to keep Alyssa by his side just because she reminded him of another woman.Alyssa had been with him since she

It was past midnight when Preston was jolted awake by the sound of muffled sobbing.He opened his eyes, reached for the bedside lamp, and the warm yellow light slowly filled the room.His wife sat up in bed, her face pale and tear-streaked, eyes red and glassy as they fixed on him with a mixture of sorrow and confusion.“Charlotte, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”Preston sat up immediately, reaching out to pull her into his arms, but she shrank away.In her eyes flickered a clarity he hadn’t seen in years—sharp, painful awareness.“Preston,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I dreamed about our daughter. She was crying. She said she was so hungry, and so cold…”A dull ache spread through Preston’s chest, stabbing deeper with every breath.Scenes like this had replayed countless times over the past twenty-three years. Every time she woke from those ni

 Ever since William showed up, business at Alyssa’s bar had been booming.He had a real gift for mixology, and a few of his signature drinks became instant bestsellers. Women in their twenties loved them the most.“Alyssa, Francis did it again, new record.” The bartender, AJ, waved the sales sheet at her. “We sold 108 glasses of the Francis Special today, and someone even opened more than a dozen bottles of the pricey stuff for him.”“If we started offering a hosts-for-hire service, maybe we could—”Before he finished, Alyssa shot him a look. Her voice went flat. “We run a legit place here.”Usually, she could joke around with the staff, keep things easy. But for some reason, hearing William talked about like that put a splinter under her skin.“Alyssa, come on, I’m kidding.” AJ lifted his hands and gave her a sheepish grin.She ignored him and glanced toward William, who was surrounded by a small crowd of female customer

“Mommy, I want meat!”Buddy’s tiny finger pointed eagerly toward the ribs in the middle of the dining table, his round black eyes glimmering with anticipation.Sophia glanced at the colorful, perfectly portioned meal already laid out on his children’s plate.“You’ve got plenty there.”Buddy shook his head. “That one doesn’t taste good.”Sophia smiled softly, coaxing him. “It tastes exactly the same. Yours is just cooked a little softer and cut into smaller pieces, and the bones were removed so it’s easier for you to chew and digest. I promise it’s the same flavor.”But it wasn’t the same.Buddy’s meals were always low-oil, low-salt versions designed by a professional nutritionist. Ever since he was born, Victoria had arranged specialists to manage everything about his diet and daily routine—Sophia, as his mother, had never been allowe

Ethan lay on the bed, temples throbbing, sinking into a dark, endless dream.The images played like a film reel—scene after scene flashing by, vivid and sharp.In the office.Sophia leaned over his desk to hand him files, her blouse gaping just enough to reveal a hint of pale skin. Every time she came near, there was that faint, intoxicating scent clinging to her, impossible to forget.When she passed him documents or pens, her fingertips always brushed his hand—accidentally on purpose.Little things like that. Always deliberate. Always practiced.Then came the hotel room.She was sitting on his lap, red lips grazing his ear.“Mr. Blackwood, do you think I’m beautiful?”“Mr. Blackwood, I’ve admired you for so long.”She laughed softly, breath warm and sweet. “I knew you wouldn’t push me away. You want me too, don’t you?”That night of c