All Chapters of The Wrong Wife for Mr Whitmore: Pregnant, Divorced, Reclaime: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

123 Chapters

SKETCHBOOKS AND PENCIL STAINS

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

THE CHANDELIER SHATTERS

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW. SIX MONTHS LATER…. The lavender-scented silver locket around my neck dangled as I pushed my legs faster than I was used to. Hardcore music blasted in my ears as I raced through the massive school track field, and the words of the doctor from six months ago echoed in my mind like a broken song.“I fear there is no cure, Mr Carlyle.” He’d said, gripping his clipboard with a sunken expression while my father fought to stand straight. The haunted beeping of the heart monitor hooked to my mother left an inaudible ringing in my ears. I remember gripping onto the soft handkerchief Felix had given me for our three-month anniversary; the same lavender-scented cloth was the only thing that calmed me. Watching your mother die…..knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it; it twists your mind untill you’re sure there’s nothing left of you anymore. My phone buzzed with the many incessant messages from Felix, but I didn’t stop. I clocked the bottom of the headpho

THE CURE

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

TROUBLE IN PARADISE

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW. The door slammed shut behind Mr Ricky, leaving behind the lingering smell of antiseptic, blood, plus the sound of my father’s and my sobs, and the heart monitor. My heart slammed against my ribs, both filled with terror at the reality of the situation we were in, plus the guilt of it all. My father slowly, shakily picked himself off the floor, dusted the sand off his hands, before turning to glare at me. His tears-stained cheeks shone in the dimly lit hospital room, the wrinkled, loose shirt he had hung off him, and his hair looked shorter than it had six months ago. “Don’t pretend as if you care about her now, Genevieve.” He hissed at me, his glare on my hands wrapped around her bald, bandaged head. The feeding tube shook slightly as I sobbed against her, my tears staining the bandage around her head. “Don’t act like all of this is not your fault.” “Dad, I-“ “Get the hell away from my wife!” he suddenly hissed, and was upon me. Grabbing my arms, he rip

DARK SPOTS

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

SILVER LINING?

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.Even though I’d heard the firm lock of the car doors echo inside the expensive sports car, I still tried to pull on the handle anyway. “Open this damn door, Elias.” He doesn’t say a word. I pulled even harder, threatening, “I’ll snap it, I swear I’ll break the handle of your expensive car if you don’t let me out of here.”Still, Elias doesn’t even turn to me. My lips pulled in a firm line, my heart pounding harder as a sudden exhaustion hit me. I grabbed my stomach as I felt the inside twist. My vision turned blurry again; this time, it wasn’t only from my tears. Having not had anything to eat or drink, added to the events of the past six months, I barely felt the strength to fight anymore. “Fine!” I clapped my hands. “I’m done; what the hell do you want to know? If I tell you, will you let me leave?”His grip on the steering wheel tightened for a moment, his jaw set so tight, I saw a vein pulse before he replied. “No, what happened in the dean's office?”

MORTEM

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

MORTEM II

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.Another sob escaped me as I gripped the sheets harder. “I told myself, if I stayed away from you as long as my mother needed it, she could live. And when she recovered well enough, I could come, tell you everything, and you’d forgive me. I told myself you would understand.I thought it would be that easy.” I shook my head, my lips pursed together as I looked at Felix. “I was so wrong. I could do it; six months would be bearable. If I made you hate me enough, you’d stay away, too, and I could focus on the fowl. But she kept getting worse. My father and I begged Ricky; we swore we would pay him back if he just lent it to us.But he refused, promising he would give us the cure as long as I did what he wanted. But they kept promising; that was all he and Mr Whitmore did. Everyone we did as they demanded, they shifted the goalpost. Nothing I did was ever enough. Losing you, losing school, my father losing his job, our house….the right to eat properly.” My voice

GONE

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

I HATE FUNERALS

GENEVIEVE’S POINT OF VIEW.The cemetery overlooked the quiet outskirts of the city where rows upon rows of polished white headstones stretched over the horizon. Some of them had grass covering them; probably forgotten by family and friends, while some looked freshly placed.The rain from the previous night left the grass damp beneath my shoes, while the clouds turned a gloomy grey. Even though the skies reflected my mood, it still looked beautiful.I hated it. How dare the world still look beautiful today? Why didn’t the world pause, end, stop today? A cold breeze drifted across the hill, carrying with it the scent of the wet grass and soul. Somewhere nearby, I heard birds singing and flying joyfully, their wings flapping as though nothing had happened. As though my world hadn’t ended three days ago. The hearse came down slow stop beside the own grace. For a long moment, I could not move. I stared at the six-foot-deep open ground, my vision oddly clearer than last time as the funera

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