All Chapters of FORBIDDEN: HIS PLUS SIZE OBSESSION : Chapter 691 - Chapter 700

(THE NEXT MORNING)The sterile, antiseptic scent of the hospital corridor did nothing to mask the tension that crackled in the air.The moment Mr. Reynolds' polished leather shoe crossed the threshold of the private room, the fragile quiet shattered.Eric followed close behind, scanning the room—and froze. It wasn't Diana keeping vigil by Tarzan's bedside. It was Lena."What the hell happened?!" Reynolds' voice detonated—a thunderclap of raw fury that seemed to rattle the windowpanes.Lena flinched so violently she nearly lurched out of her chair. Her heart slammed against her ribs like a frantic caged bird. She had known he would be furious—Diana had warned her—and she had braced herself for his anger. But this... this visceral, explosive rage was beyond anything she had prepared for.Mr. Reynolds' cold, calculating gaze swept the room before narrowing on Tarzan. He lay motionless, his face pale against the starched white pillow, a web of thin tubes and wires connecting him to b

Two days. Forty-eight endless, suffocating hours, and still he hadn't stirred. "It's been two days now… why isn't he improving?" Lena murmured to herself, her voice hollow with exhaustion. Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen from hours of weeping, remained fixed on Tarzan's motionless face. She watched, waited, hoping for those eyes to flutter open, for some sign that he was still fighting. Slowly, she reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Her fingers trembled as they traced the line of his cheekbone, as though touch alone could coax him back from whatever dark place he had wandered into. "Please," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "You've been so strong. You've fought so hard. It's time… it's time to wake up now, Tarzan… please." She sank back into the chair beside his bed, her body weighed down by grief and sleeplessness. She cradled his hand between both of hers, clutching it like a lifeline, as if she could pour her own warmth into him and wil

Eric remained where he stood, but his disappointment was obvious. He stared at Tarzan's turned back. “Was that really necessary?” No response. Eric’s jaw tightened. “Do you even have any idea what she did for you?” Tarzan stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. “She found you unconscious. You were barely breathing. She called for help. She’s the reason it wasn’t too late. And when you got here, she refused to leave your side—even when Diana told her to go, she stayed. Beside your bed. All night. For two days.” Eric’s voice grew sharper. “She hasn’t eaten properly. She’s barely slept. Every few minutes, she’d ask the nurses if your condition had changed.” He paused, letting the words settle. “Then the first thing you do after waking up is chase her away? I’ve never seen a manager care that much. She literally packed a bag and moved into this hospital—for you.” Tarzan’s fingers curled tightly around the hospital blanket. He kept staring at the white wall, refusing to tu

When Diana called and asked if I still wanted to keep my position as Tarzan's manager, I really wanted to say no. I wanted to forget him. But once again, I couldn't let go of my feelings for him.I failed to not look back.And here I am—as his manager.Three days later, I stood near the edge of the bustling makeup room backstage at the award show, trying my best to stay out of the way while the team worked their magic on Tarzan. I was worried about him resuming work just two days after being discharged from the hospital.Eric had driven me to the venue, so I hadn't laid eyes on Tarzan in three days. Since I got there he had pretended I wasn't existing just like he did at the hospital.However,I told myself not to be discouraged.My gaze kept drifting to the faint scar along his left cheekbone, and each time, my heart tightened with guilt.The assistants standing beside me started whispering about it.“Can you believe that mark? I heard it was his cat,” one murmured.“Mr. Silver owni

He didn't say anything—just stepped closer, and I heard the click of the door locking behind him. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were Celeste. I should—I'll just—" My breath caught in my throat as his hands made contact with my bare back, and a shiver tore through me like lightning. His fingers were warm, calloused, yet so gentle as they brushed against my skin, tracing the line of my spine down to where the zipper was stuck. It was as if every nerve ending in my body came alive in that moment, the heat of his touch radiating outward until I was trembling with it. "The zipper," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "It's stuck." "Ye…yes," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. For days now, we hadn't said a word to each other—until now. He wanted me gone from the hospital, and now this? And he was initiating a conversation? What's going on in his mind? My breath hitched again as his fingers found the zipper and tugged gently, but it wouldn't budge. He made a soft sound of frust