Semua Bab Her Fiancé's Father's Obsession: Bab 151 - Bab 160

HudsonI saw Jane's face every time I closed my eyes, but it wasn't the broken woman I had created anymore, the one who apologized for existing and believed she was nothing without me. It was the new Jane, the one who had stood in that courtroom and told Claire she had earned everything she had through her own hard work and strength. The one who looked at me like I was less than nothing, like I was something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe and finally managed to throw away.She and my father had won, and I had lost everything. It was my own fault.No, some desperate part of me insisted. It wasn't. They pushed me to it. If Julius had just given me what I deserved, if Jane had just been grateful for what I gave her, none of this would have happened.But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. I had always known it was a lie, somewhere deep down beneath all the rage, entitlement and desperate need to believe I was the victim in this story.The therapist had been right all

HudsonThe prison gates closed behind me with a metallic clang. It felt like the ending of something I wasn't quite ready to leave even though I had counted down every single day for years.I stood on the sidewalk with a few hundred dollars in my pocket, a donated jacket that smelled like moth balls, jeans that were slightly too big, and a plastic bag containing everything I owned in the world. A notebook filled with letters I would never send. A certificate from the culinary program. A picture Sami's daughter had drawn for me when he got out five months ago.Around me, other released inmates were being swept into the arms of waiting families. A woman held her son so tightly I thought she might break him. An older man was surrounded by what looked like a dozen grandchildren, all talking at once.I watched them pile into cars and drive away toward lives that were waiting for them, and I stood there alone until the last car disappeared down the road.I could call someone. I still had m

MaribelI burned three batches of croissants the next day because I couldn't focus on anything except the image of Hudson Armstrong curled up in my doorway like a discarded piece of trash.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The greasy hair and the stained jacket. The way he had clutched it around himself like it was the only thing standing between him and freezing to death."Maribel, you okay?" Sarah, my part-time barista, asked when I pulled the third tray of blackened pastries from the oven. "That's not like you.""I'm fine," I lied, scraping the ruined croissants into the trash. "Just distracted."Just distracted by the fact that the man who had helped ruin my life was sleeping on the street outside my business, and I had run away like a coward instead of doing anything about it.What was I supposed to do, though? Call the police? They would just move him along to another doorway. Call Jane? And tell her what, exactly? That Hudson was homeless and pathetic and I felt sorry for

MaribelI woke up to the smell of coffee, and for a moment I forgot Hudson Armstrong was sleeping in my living room, then reality crashed back in, and I sat up so fast my head spun. What had I done? I had let him into my home, given him food and shelter, and now he was making coffee like he belonged here.I threw on a hoodie over my pajamas and opened my bedroom door slowly, half expecting to find my apartment ransacked and Hudson gone with whatever he could carry and maybe an empty cup of coffee in the kitchen.Instead, I found him sitting at my kitchen table with his hands wrapped around a mug, staring out the window like he was trying to memorize the view. He looked up when he heard me, and something in his expression made me pause.He looked scared, not of me, exactly, but of this moment and what I might say or do next."I made coffee," He said quietly, gesturing to the pot. "I hope that's okay. I didn't know if you wanted any, but I figured it couldn't hurt.""It's fine," I sai

MaribelI was on the verge of tears when my barista called at six in the morning, her voice hoarse and broken with sickness."Maribel, I'm so sorry. I can't come in today. I've been throwing up all night and I can barely stand. I think it's food poisoning.""It's okay," I lied, staring at the cafe schedule on my phone and feeling panic rise in my throat. "Just rest. Feel better, okay?"I hung up and wanted to scream. It was Saturday, our busiest day by far. We had a full schedule of orders, a private event booking at noon, and I was supposed to be managing everything with her help. Now I was going to have to do it alone.I could call in favors, maybe beg one of my other part-time employees to come in on their day off, but they all had legitimate reasons they couldn't work Saturdays. That was why she was so valuable. She was reliable, always showed up and never complained, until today and none of this was her fault.I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, trying to figure out if I s