Todos los capítulos de His Icy Regret: I Quit My Hockey Secret Lover's Wet Sheet: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

"Why do you still insist on going through with this ridiculous wedding? We're all being completely fooled by Hazel and Jonah!"Bertha ignored her daughter's frantic rambling. Her expression remained as flat and unreadable as a chalkboard as she examined the glint of a teacup beneath the crystal chandelier."Mom! The child she's carrying is most likely Marco Marten's! That lowly ice hockey player from the Marten family!" Jenny raised her voice, her tone growing shrill and desperate.Bertha continued to sort the cups, placing them one by one onto a silver tray with elegant, measured movements.Running entirely out of patience, Jenny stepped forward and roughly shoved the cups out of her mother's line of sight. "Mom! Are you even listening to me?!" Bertha stopped in her tracks. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then fixed her daughter with a chilling, icy glare. "Of course, I hear you. I have perfectly functioning ears.""Then why are you ignoring this crucial fact?!""Because

I stood at the end of the aisle, breathing in the cool afternoon air.The expanse of green grass in the Bennet estate garden had been transformed into a stunning white canvas. White rose petals scattered like snow on the red carpet, wooden chairs adorned with satin ribbons were arranged in an intimate circle, and the clear sky seemed to have been paid handsomely by this family to keep the rain at bay.This was exactly my dream wedding.Yes, well, even though the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle wasn't exactly in my plans for the future, and the guests in attendance were almost entirely strangers to me, I thought it was more than enough. In the front row, I could see Mira leaning on her husband's shoulder, sobbing as she wiped her nose with a tissue that already looked like a fluffy cloud.Oh gosh, why is she making it so hard for me to hold back my laughter?Ugh. I have to stay calm and keep smiling. This is my wedding.I walked alone down the aisle, and oddly enough, it fel

So far, Hazel had been walking with a composure worthy of an Oscar.Around her, three muscular men with eye-catching fashion sense, neon floral beach shirts that were too tight, were escorting her in a triangle formation. From a distance, they might have looked like a group of tourists taking a leisurely stroll, or like personal bodyguards escorting a young, rich lady.The sea breeze was slowly losing its salty tang, replaced by the scent of sun-baked asphalt. The faint sounds of tourists laughing and the splashing of water from the resort's main pool were beginning to fade.Ha, this isn't good, she thought.The quieter the path, the higher the risk. Allowing herself to be dragged into a blind corner with no witnesses was the very definition of ridiculous suicide.Unbelievable, she cursed inwardly.This was only the fifth day of her honeymoon. The first five days of her life where she could truly breathe freely without worrying about work, her parents' debts, or Marco Marten. And five

Hazel was indeed dead. Her medical records confirmed the terminal illness that had long plagued her. She had been silently counting down her final days all along.In the sterile hallway outside the morgue, Hendrik spotted Jonah Bennet. The man looked like an absolute wreck. His face was corpse-pale, his bloodshot, vacant eyes fixed on the floor as if his soul had already been dragged into the afterlife alongside his wife.However, at the scuff of Hendrik's approaching shoe, Jonah's body snapped to attention like a wounded guard dog. The man shot his head up, his gaze sharpening to radiate pure, unadulterated murderous intent."How dare you come here?" Jonah’s voice came out hoarse, trembling with repressed rage. He rose to his feet, his large frame entirely blocking the double doors. "Back off. Don't you dare come anywhere near my wife, Sinclaire."Hendrik raised his hands in a slow, mock surrender, retreating without putting up a fight. After all, he had already seen enough. Moments

Mirabell looked up, her gaze filled with a flurry of bewildered questions.The air in her lungs vanished. Her daughter's story of the Sinclaire family's torment... Was it all true?Across the glass, Jefferson had turned and walked away, leaving her in deafening silence."Time's up," the warden said behind Mirabell.But Mirabell couldn't move. Her knees turned to jelly. An overwhelming suffocation squeezed her neck. The world spun sideways, obscuring the warden's furious screams, before the cold floor hit her face and she blacked out completely.When her eyes opened again, the sharp smell of antiseptic assaulted her senses. This wasn't a stuffy prison. The mattress was covered in crisp white sheets, and a monitor beeped rhythmically beside it. At the foot of the bed, a doctor in a white coat stood reading from a clipboard. His gaze was level as he stared at Mirabell, delivering the final verdict."Mrs. Quinn, your test results are in. You... have stomach cancer."Mirabell fell silent.