All Chapters of Curvy Girl Returned With His Best Friend’s Baby: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Lana’s POVThe hot tea in my hand was cold even before I realized it. It did burn but it only soothes the pain that clawed in my chest The clock ticked louder than usual. Or at least it felt that way.The small gold hands made their way slowly across the dining room wall clock, cutting through the tension that lay between Derek and me like a third presence. He was scrolling through his phone once more. His jaw tightened, that small crease growing between his brows — the one I used to believe made him seem successful and serious. Tonight, it only seemed to make him look bored."Did you see the wedding planner's email?" I asked quietly, running my finger along the edge of my teacup. "She wrote that the garden venue is available on the date we preferred. I thought—"He sighed. A loud, irritated one. Not the tired kind of sigh, but the you're-already-getting-on-my-nerves kind."Lana," he growled, still not lifting his gaze. "We've already talked about this. My mother likes the Hyatt ba

Lana’s POVThe mirrored elevator doors slid open, catching my reflection for a fleeting moment before parting.I barely recognized my own reflection. The woman who stared back wasn't the trembling bride who'd taken flight from a wedding five years ago. She was upright, chin tilted, dressed in a fitted ivory suit that hugged like confidence itself. Her hair, once long and silky, was cut blunt at the shoulders. The lobby was filled with the rustle of language as I left. Interns walked briskly by with clipboards, their voices soft and deferential. Everyone always assumed that I didn't hear it when they whispered "That's Lana Roth."But I always did.Five years later, and the name still circulated like electricity in the air always prefaced by a tale.Humiliated bride, runaway heiress, reborn philanthropist.I’d built something out of that ruin: Stripped Foundation, a nonprofit organization that turns young talents into start-ups. Kids who couldn’t afford an education now have a chance

Lana’s POVI hardly slept. With every time I closed my eyes, Jace Monroe's voice would replay itself in my head.Don't be late this time.The audacity of that man. The way he'd regarded me as if he'd already mapped out where I fit. As if I was something that could be measured and contained.I took a deep breath, willing my image in the rearview mirror to stay calm. My jaw was tight. My lipstick is perfect. My blazer is pressed. Outside, I was serene. Inside, I was a storm of defiance and fear.It's not about him, I reminded myself. It's about the foundation. The dream. The kids who are counting on me.When I finally stepped inside, the scent of new polish and chilled air conditioning hit me like a brick wall. My heels clacked bravely against the marble, announcing my arrival with more force than I had.By the time I reached the thirty-second floor, my palms were sweating.I knocked."Enter," said his voice — smooth, clipped, unruffled.Jace sat behind a vast black desk, sleeves rolle

Lana’s POVI arrived at the office early, before eight. Coffee ready, milk measured, elephant facing outward. Rules followed. I had my folder system laid out, each color-coded section aligned with the priorities Jace had already given. I was prepared, or so I thought.The first ping of my email came at 8:05 a.m. I opened it cautiously. A folder from Jace, size: 2.3 GB. Attached instructions: sort, review, highlight, and summarize by noon.I frowned. Two hours for a massive file?Another ping. Another folder. 1.8 GB. Another task. Review, categorize, respond with notes to me by 1 p.m.I leaned back in my chair, hands hovering over the keyboard.He didn’t look up from his laptop as he passed by. “Your speed will determine if you survive today,” he said casually, voice low but firm. “Do it right. Do it fast.”“Yes, Mr. Monroe,” I said, swallowing irritation.By 8:30, I had three folders open on my screen and two physical stacks in front of me. Each folder was filled with subfolders, sub-

Lana’s POVI arrived at Monroe Corp. early, still buzzing from the private meeting at the foundation. The drive had left me drained, and the thought of tackling Jace’s never-ending stack of folders made my chest tighten. I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t let exhaustion show. Not here. Not ever.The moment I stepped into the office, I noticed the first red flag. A folder I had meticulously arranged yesterday was out of place. Not slightly. Completely mismatched. Tabs flipped backward, papers in the wrong order.I frowned, kneeling to straighten it. “That’s strange,” I muttered under my breath. I checked the surrounding stacks. Several other folders had minor but noticeable discrepancies.I paused, heart hammering. This wasn’t human error. Not with me. Not after the way I arranged everything. Someone had tampered with my work.I tried to shake it off. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe someone had been careless. But a small voice in the back of my mind wouldn’t let me. It had to be sa