A Second Chance with My Husband in the Past のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Howard slipped back into the bedroom past 1 AM, study shadows clinging to his gray t-shirt and black trousers, Vanessa's betrayal still raw in his veins—Vanessa, not dead but a ghost alive in memory, thriving somewhere while his trust died. The door's whisper-quiet click barely disturbed the hush; moonlight bathed the four-poster in silver, illuminating Charlotte—sound asleep, curled peacefully on his side of the bed. He flinched inwardly, breath catching. The woman I can call my wife. For a fleeting moment, the rushed contract, the fights, and the power plays faded; just her, real and here.He padded slowly to the bed's edge, eyes tracing her form. Pink cat-print pajamas bunched adorably around her, childish whimsy masking the firecracker who'd slapped him without fear, stood toe-to-toe in the hospital, and defied maids and luxury alike. No one would guess—she's a storm in a girl's clothing. Vanessa's lingering shadow receded; Charlotte had cracked walls he'd mortared after that grad

The sleek black Bentley idled curbside outside Ryan Brown's law firm, tinted windows shielding the elite duo within. High-rises loomed downtown, but Karla Carter's focus drilled on the glass doors ahead. She turned to Anastasia in the passenger seat, manicured nails tapping her Chanel bag. "Anna, what exactly do you need from his office?"Anastasia's lips curved slyly, eyes gleaming malice—blonde waves perfect, designer dress hugging spite. "Mom, there's a contract between Howard and Charlotte. I'm sure that gold-digger demanded a fortune—alimony clauses, property grabs. If we snag a copy, we expose her. Show Grandpa Wendell her true colors: a low-class climber latching on."Karla's teeth gritted audibly, bile rising—two days, and she's already wormed in? Slapping her way to being a Carter heiress? Anastasia's poison dripped sweet, fanning flames of loathing built on status snubs. Perfect opening—eviscerate the outsider, boot her before roots dig.Karla's lips curled triumphantly, squ

The hospital's pediatric ward hummed softly under fluorescent lights, monitors beeping a steady lullaby for the tiny patients. Charlotte, white coat draped over her scrubs, stood outside Ruby's room. The door creaked open, revealing Gabriela Foreman, Ruby's foster mother—a weathered woman in her late 40s, lines etched deep from years of quiet battles, simple cardigan over jeans, hair pulled into a practical bun.Gabriela's eyes, warm brown pools rimmed red from worry, lit as she spotted Charlotte. She stepped forward, hands clasping Charlotte's in a fervent grip. "Dr. Valco, I don't have words. That funding came through like a miracle—ECMO machine humming, meds flowing. Ruby's stable because of you. Thank you. From the bottom of this old heart."Charlotte squeezed back, a genuine smile softening her fatigue. Gabriela's hands felt rough, callused from factory shifts, yet tender—hands that rocked Ruby through fevers and fears. "Gabriela, stop. You're the hero here. Taking such great car

Anastasia's tray rattled as she spun on her heel, cheeks flushing crimson—not from shame, but fury barely leashed. The door slammed behind her.,Howard's eyes flicked to the dustbin, jaw ticking, then to the door. His sister's hurt cut deeper than Charlotte's barbs, "Anna," he growled low, striding after her, leaving Charlotte with a final, venomous glare.In the dimly lit hallway, crystal lamps casting long shadows, Anastasia leaned against the wall, shoulders heaving. Fake sobs bubbled up, soft and theatrical, tears glistening on her lashes as she buried her face in her hands.Howard approached, his large frame softening just for her. "Anna,"She peeked through her fingers, her voice trembling like fragile glass. "I told you, Howard... ever since your wife came, she's been snatching you from me—from us. See? She threw out the coffee I made for you. I've made it since I was a teenager, just how you like—black, steaming, every night after your meetings. And now? She changes everything

Charlotte pushed through the mansion's grand oak doors. "Arrogant woman," Charlotte thought, fury simmering as she burst through the mansion's oak doors into the crisp morning air. How could Karla say I left my work to help the maids—like I'm some simpering servant chasing their approval?I am not that old Charlotte who tried so hard to impress every Carter, leaving my dreams and my work behind. The Bentley purred under the porte-cochère, Marcus emerging with a bow. She'd refused him before, hailing cabs to spurn Carter's excess, but today? Strategy won. Take it. Own it."Good morning, Mrs. Carter," he said politely, back door open. "Where to?"She bypassed the shadowed throne, sliding into the passenger seat with a click of the belt.Marcus froze, confusion etching his face. "Ma'am? The back is—""I'm not one of them," she stated firmly, gaze steady. Them—the arrogant overlords. "Front seat. Treat me like it. Drive."His smile warmed with respect, nodding. "As you wish, ma'am."The e