All Chapters of My Fiancé's Uncle is Obsessed With Me!: Chapter 131 - Chapter 137

Emily The beach was beautiful. Perfect. Everything an honeymoon needed to be. White sand stretching to horizons that dissolved into turquoise, then deeper blue, then the vast indifferent sky. The resort Adrian had chosen was small, private, hidden behind walls of flowering hibiscus and guarded by staff who appeared only when needed and vanished when they weren't. No photographers. No business calls. No interruptions from the world we'd deliberately left behind. Hope was with Madam Lin, who had insisted on accompanying us "just in case," her eyes avoiding Adrian's with the careful neutrality she'd perfected over five years. I'd almost argued, almost pointed out that a honeymoon should be uninterrupted, but Adrian had agreed before I could speak, and I'd understood—some part of him still didn't trust the peace we'd built, still needed backup plans and safety nets and the quiet assurance that our daughter was protected even in our absence. So we'd flown to the Maldives, to water so c

Emily Lily’s letter arrived on a quiet Saturday morning. It stood out the moment I saw it resting on the counter—thin, pale, and out of place among grocery receipts and Leo’s crayon drawings. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent me a letter. Everything came through screens now. Messages, emails, quick calls. Things you could delete with one tap if they became too much. I picked it up slowly, turning it over in my hands. My name sat on the front in neat, careful handwriting. Too careful. Like each letter had been written with hesitation. Leo sat on the kitchen floor nearby, completely absorbed in his world. Bright plastic blocks scattered around him in uneven piles. He hummed softly, stacking and restacking, his tiny fingers working with full focus, unaware of anything beyond his small creation. Hope had already left earlier that morning. She’d slipped out with her usual quiet energy, a quick kiss to Leo’s hair, a vague wave in my direction. The studio had been calli

Emily “Mom?” Hope’s voice held that careful hesitation she used when she wasn’t sure she was supposed to find something. “I was looking for winter coats in the storage room, and this was in a box behind the trunks.” I wiped my hands on my apron, something tightening in my chest before I even turned. The album rested in her hands—old leather, cracked spine, edges yellowed with time. I knew what it held before I touched it. I had put it there myself, years ago, part of the careful structure of forgetting I’d built my life around. “Come here.” She climbed onto the kitchen bench beside me, all long limbs and lingering softness, her hair still tangled from sleep. I opened the album. The first photograph showed Leonard Vale at his height—standing on the steps of the original Vale Corporation building, silver hair immaculate, smile precise and practiced. He looked powerful. He looked kind. He looked exactly like the man I had loved. “Who is that?” Hope traced the image lightly, the