All Chapters of SCANDAL IN HIS BED : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The kitchen lights flickered on as Karen dropped the grocery bags on the counter with a dramatic sigh.“Remind me again why we bought a whole sack of onions,” she said, peering into one of the bags suspiciously.Roy chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Because you said, and I quote, ‘Onions make food taste like love.’”Karen blinked at him. “Did I actually say that?”“You did. With full conviction.”She burst out laughing, leaning against the counter. “Wow. Motherhood has truly unlocked new wisdom in me.”Roy began unloading the groceries, lining them neatly—vegetables on one side, meats on the other. Karen noticed and shook her head.“You’re doing that thing again.”“What thing?”“That very organized, military-style arrangement.” She nudged a tomato toward the wrong side on purpose. “Live a little.”Roy caught her wrist gently. “Don’t sabotage the system.”“The system?” she repeated, eyes dancing. “Is this how you run the office too?”He smirked. “If you knew how chaotic m

Ethan had just got back from his trip and decided to make up for the last fight. He paced back and forth in his sleek apartment, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on him. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning with frustration, guilt, and longing. Sinking into the couch, he pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long moment. How do I fix this? How do I show her she still matters? The words of her flared-up frustration echoed in his mind, sharp and relentless. Ethan’s chest tightened as he remembered the subtle hurt in her eyes, the way her voice had wavered just slightly before she stormed out. He couldn’t stand it. He had to make it right. Not tomorrow, —now.His fingers hovered over his laptop as he searched for the perfect restaurant, the kind of place that felt like an experience, not just a dinner. Candlelight, soft music, views that left one breathless. His mind ran through a dozen options before he finally found it—a rooftop spot that overlooked the

The sunlight streamed faintly through the blinds, casting long stripes across the floor. Dianne lay sprawled on her couch, the cushions twisted beneath her, hair tangled, and eyes puffy from the tears she hadn’t managed to fully shed the night before. Her phone buzzed insistently on the coffee table.She reached for it, her hands trembling, and saw Maya’s name flashing across the screen. Her heart skipped a beat, part of her afraid to answer, part of her desperate for comfort. She swiped to pick up.“Diane…?” Maya’s voice was quiet at first, tentative, almost afraid.“Hey…” Dianne whispered, barely able to get the word out.“Babe, are you okay?” Maya asked, concern lacing every syllable.Dianne took a shaky breath and began to recount the night before, each word tumbling out with a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back. She narrated everything—the dinner, the smiles that felt so intimate, the sudden confrontation, the shocking revelation about Ethan, and the way her world

Dianne decided to brace up.She told herself that—quietly at first, then again, firmer—like a vow she was afraid might shatter if spoken too loudly. No more tears. Not tonight. Not again. She had cried enough to last a lifetime, and yet the ache in her chest felt greedy, like it could always take more.Maya had gone back to her husband’s place earlier that morning. The goodbye had been soft, lingering, full of unspoken worry. Maya had hugged her longer than usual, fingers pressing into her back as if trying to transfer strength through skin and bone. Call me if you need anything, she had said. Anything at all.Now, the apartment was quiet.Too quiet.Dianne lay lazily on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, her head resting against a cushion that still smelled faintly like Maya’s perfume. The television was on, some random daytime show playing, voices rising and falling, laughter erupting at intervals—but she wasn’t watching. The screen might as well have been blank. Her eyes we

Dianne was deep in sleep, her body completely exhausted from the past few days of frantic errands, work loads, and trying to manage her own emotions. The sun had barely started peeking through the blinds, but her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. She groaned, tangled in her sheets, and muttered under her breath,“Aren’t you tired yet, Ethan?!”Even in her haze, she knew it wasn’t him—it was just her phone, yet the reflexive irritation didn’t fade. With a lazy stretch, she yanked the device close to her, blinking against the remnants of sleep. The bright screen made her wince. She swiped to open the message and squinted.Her eyes widened, and she nearly fell off the bed in shock. Her heart started hammering. She let out a strangled scream, half-laughing, half-incredulous:“What? No way!”The words stumbled out of her mouth as she read again, slower this time, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming:“Congratulations! Your application has been accepted. We have scheduled your intervi