The Plus-Size Girl Claimed by 3 Daddies のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Author's Pov.One week after Ana left, Leon's office felt colder than usual. Not because of the room temperature, but because of the presence of three men sitting there without their usual spirit.Adrian and Sebastian came together, as always. They sat on the sofa facing Leon, who was leaning back in his big chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. On the table, documents for new projects were scattered, which should have been finished an hour ago, but no one was focused."Why isn't Ana replying to my messages?" Adrian asked.Leon didn't answer."It's been a week and she hasn't replied to any of my messages. I called her, no answer. I sent messages, only one check mark," Adrian said."We checked the mansion, they said she's no longer there. The servants said she left with a small suitcase. They don't know where," Sebastian said.Leon sipped his whiskey. Not in a hurry, like he was enjoying every drop that burned his throat."She's gone," Leon finally said.Adrian and Sebastian looked at

Ana's Pov.I sat on the floor of my small rented apartment, staring at the black suitcase in front of me. The suitcase was heavy, not too big, but full. Leon gave it to me when I left. He didn't say how much was inside. I didn't ask. I just accepted it like usual.This morning I opened it. Inside was money. I didn't count it, but from its thickness, it was probably enough to live on for a year or two. Leon was indeed stingy, but when he gave, he gave in amounts that didn't make sense.But I couldn't live on his money forever.I had to work.But what could I do?I didn't have a college degree. I didn't have any special skills. I was just an ex maid who happened to be a contract wife and a prostitute for three rich men.I looked down at my hands. Rough, calloused, not pretty like other women's hands.At least I had these skills: cleaning, serving, sweeping, mopping, and washing clothes.I stood up. In the corner of the room, there was a small bathroom scale belonging to the apartment ow

It's been over a month since I trapped myself in this rented apartment.Behind the window I never open, the world keeps spinning. The sun rises and sets. Cars pass by. People go to work, come home from work, eat, sleep, and repeat it all again the next day.But in here, time feels frozen. I don't go out. I just lie on the bed, stare at the cracked ceiling, and wait. Wait for what? I don't know myself.This apartment is like a wrecked ship. Food wrappers are scattered on the floor. There's instant noodles, bread, chips, chocolate bars that I used to avoid so strictly during my diet. Empty mineral water bottles are lined up beside the bed. Dirty clothes are strewn across the chair, on the floor, on top of the wardrobe.I don't have the energy to clean. I don't have the spirit to tidy up. I just eat, sleep, and cry.The money Leon gave me, which I once thought would last a year or two, has now diminished a lot. I can't save money, and I buy new clothes because my old ones don't fit anymo

On a small wooden table with its paint starting to peel, a tiny birthday cake stood alone. A single candle with the number 26 was stuck into the cream, which wasn't very neat, the result of my own spreading. I lit the candle. The small flame flickered, as if joining in the celebration of my loneliness."Happy birthday, Ana," I whispered to myself.I stared at the candle. One. Two. Three seconds. Then I blew it out. No one shouted "hurray." No one clapped. No one hugged me. Just me, the tiny cake that was already starting to melt, and the baby in my belly who was moving restlessly.26 years old.At this age, other women might already be managers at famous companies or own their own businesses, or at least have a clear career, a decent home, enough savings. Some are married, have children, have a warm little family.Me? I haven't become anything yet.I don't have a diploma. Don't have any skills. Don't have a job. Don't have a home. Don't have a family. All I have is a belly that keeps

A few months later.The first contraction came while I was sleeping.The clock showed three in the morning. I woke up with a strange pain in my lower abdomen, not the usual kind of pain, but a pain that spread from my back to my waist, then to my stomach, then all over my body.I sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. I tried to remember what the doctor had said about the signs of labor.I didn't have anyone, and there was no one to take me to the hospital. I only had my dwindling leftover money, a phone with a number no one knew, and a belly that kept contracting every five minutes.I called a taxi and waited in front of the apartment with a small suitcase containing clothes and baby supplies.The taxi came. The driver looked at me with concern."Alone, miss?""Alone."He didn't ask any more questions, helped me in, carried my small suitcase, and drove as fast as he could to the hospital.At the hospital, the nurses laid me down in the delivery room. My obstetrician, the