Semua Bab The Wrong Wife for Mr Whitmore: Pregnant, Divorced, Reclaime: Bab 101 - Bab 110

ELIAS’ POINT OF VIEWMaybe it was because it was my first time feeling this much peace, but time passed by quickly, and lunch time fast approached before any of us realized it. After the disaster involving flying toast, pancakes, and at least three huge bunches of bananas, Jones threatened to resign from this circus before forcing Felix and me to clean every speck of dirt we caused in the food fight. Genevieve sat cross-legged on the cream colored rug in front of the enormous fireplace, completely absorbed in the romance novel she’d abandoned during breakfast. Now and then, she’d smile to herself or let out a pained groan before shaking her ends like the heroine had one something utterly ridiculous.I looked out the floor-to-ceiling sliding window to see Felix seated on the bench on the balcony overlooking the lake, one knee drawn up with a matchbook balanced against it. His pencil moved across the paper effortlessly and smoothly, his eyes moving from the paper to Genevieve from time

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.I clutched my phone with a tight grip as I heard down the long, lonely hallway leading to the worst place in the last six months. The doctors stared at me like I’d grown two heads; I didn’t blame them. I would too if I saw a girl, wet from the heavy downpour outside, clutching a sketchbook to her chest, sobbing like a spanked child as she replayed the image of her boyfriend, the love of her life, sobbing for her to explain things to him.I wanted to run back there, hold Felix in my arms, and spill the heaviness that held my heart in a vice grip. But I wouldn’t dare.The moment I stopped in front of the shut door to the ward, the smell of antiseptic and something sickening crept up my nose. I swapped, clutching the sketchbook in hopes of strength before pushing it open. The sight of my mother, hooked onto wires, hair shaven clean off while my father read her pages from her favorite novel, always felt like a choke slam. But today, that wasn’t the only thing t

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW. My fingers shook as I gripped the crisp white paper, reading the words over and over again through blurry vision as if they would magically change, or I would awaken from this nightmare. WITHDRAWAL OF SCHOLARSHIP FROM GENEVIEVE CARLYLE For a long second, all I could do was stare. The letters blurred together through my tears that gathered in my eyes, rolled down my cheeks until I tried to keep them at bay. No….no, this has to be wrong. “There…” my voice cracked before I could get the words out fully. I swallowed hard and tried again, past the pain. “There has to be some mistake.” Dean Johnson didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slowly, quietly removed his reading glasses and folded them neatly on top of the polished mahogany desk. His shoulders sagged with wariness I hadn’t noticed when I first walked in. “There is no mistake, Miss Carlyle……this school is thorough on things like this.” A humorless laugh escaped me; I waited for the joke to come thro

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.The soft beeping of the heart monitor beside me was the first thing I heard before my eyes slowly fluttered open. I frowned, taking in the bright white lights that stabbed into my eyes immediately, the smell of antiseptic that filled my nose, making my stomach churn. Beside me, the heart monitor stood straight.Was I in a hospital?I tried sitting up, but a sharp ache shot through my head, forcing me to lie back.“Easy.” A familiar voice spoke softly from beside me. I turned to see Elias seated in the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees. His school blazer lay strewn across the second chair, leaving him in a wrinkled white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Dark circles lay underneath his silver blue eyes as he watched me.He looked exhausted. “You’re awake.” He whispered, but I barely heard him. I stared around the hospital before taking in the vast night sky outside. “How long have I been asleep?” He doesn’t answer quickly, so

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.THREE DAYS LATER….I’ve always heard people claim funerals brought closure. Standing here today, I cannot help but decide that whoever came up with that saying had never buried the person who taught them to smile. They never had to watch faces they didn’t recognise sobbing, they didn’t have to listen to condolences from family and friends that never showed up while the deceased was alive.I stared at my mother’s coworkers, at their crying faces. I hated it… they never visited my mother while she was hospitalized, but they can cry now?The church smelled of fresh lilies and melted candle wax; white roses lined both sides of the aisle, their sweet fragrance mixed with the faint scent of polished wood until the air felt heavy enough to wrap around my lungs and suffocate me.I stared at the rows upon rows of mourners dressed entirely in black as they filled the pews, some of them whispered condolences as they passed us by before heading to their seats. Their vo