All Chapters of The Chubby Wife's Revenge.: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

AmeliaThe front door opened just before six in the evening.I looked up from the fabric samples spread across the dining table, expecting Martha returning from the market. Instead, Nathaniel walked in, tie already loosened, the usual weight of the day still sitting lightly on his shoulders.For a second, I simply blinked at him.“You’re early.”A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You sound disappointed.”“I am.” I folded my arms, though the gesture lacked any real heat. “I was enjoying having the television remote all to myself.”He laughed softly, closed the distance between us, and slipped an arm around my waist. The familiar scent of him settled over me like a quiet claim.“I’ll leave again if that’s what my wife wants.”“I didn’t say that.”“No?”“No.”“Good.”He bent and kissed me slowly, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the room disappear. When he finally pulled away, his hand rested instinctively over my stomach.“And how are my favorite people?”“We’re hungry.”“

NathanielBy the time we stepped inside, my mother had already forgotten every instruction Mrs. Lewis had given her about resting.She led Amelia through the entrance hall herself, pointing out rooms with the easy confidence of someone who had already claimed every corner of the house as her own. Fresh flowers sat on the side tables, knitted throws rested over the backs of the sofas, and the farmhouse already felt lived in—warm in a way the city house never quite managed.“The kitchen is through there,” she said. “You’ll smell the bread before you see it. Martha insists fresh bread should be baked every morning.”“I don’t insist,” Martha called from somewhere deeper in the house. “You insist.”Mother smiled without the slightest embarrassment. “I may have suggested it.”“You threatened to bake it yourself.”“I did no such thing.”“You absolutely did.”Amelia’s laughter brightened the entire hallway.She turned slowly, taking it all in. “It’s beautiful.”Mother’s expression softened. “

AmeliaI woke the next morning to an empty bed.For a brief moment, I frowned, my hand reaching across the sheets until my fingers brushed the cool space where Nathaniel should have been. He couldn't have been gone long. His pillow still carried the faint warmth of sleep, and the familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the room.I pushed myself upright carefully, one hand settling instinctively over my stomach."Your father has escaped," I murmured to the twins.The only answer I received was a small flutter that made me smile.After dressing in one of Nathaniel's shirts and a pair of soft trousers, I made my way downstairs. Somewhere below, I could smell freshly brewed coffee, warm bread, and something sweet baking in the oven.The kitchen was already alive.One of the house staff stood over the stove stirring a pot while Mrs. Lewis arranged fruit on a large platter. Evelyn sat at the long farmhouse table with a cup of tea, though from the way she pointed toward the counter and is

NathanielThe rest of the morning passed without urgency.Mother insisted on showing Amelia the orchard behind the farmhouse, despite Mrs. Lewis repeatedly reminding her that “showing” someone an orchard did not require walking the entire length of it. Amelia, naturally, encouraged her every step of the way. By lunchtime, I was fairly certain the two of them had formed an alliance against the rest of us.I found them sitting beneath one of the old apple trees, talking as though they had known each other for years instead of days. Watching them together settled something inside me I had not realized had been restless. For a long time I had worried about what would happen when I finally brought someone home. Mother had spent so many years living inside memories that I feared she would compare every woman to an impossible standard. Instead she had simply opened her heart. I suspected Amelia had done the same.After lunch Mother announced she intended to take a nap, though she insisted s

BlakeSunday afternoons were usually quiet.The little apartment had settled into a comfortable quiet after lunch. Children's cartoons played on the television in the sitting room while my son lay sprawled across the rug, completely absorbed in lining up toy dinosaurs by size, which only he seemed to understand.I stood at the kitchen counter rinsing two mugs when my phone vibrated. A familiar name lit the screen. I dried my hands before answering.“Hello.”The voice on the other end wasted no time. “We’ve got a problem.”My expression barely changed. “What happened?”“Someone’s been asking questions about you.”I leaned one hip against the counter, my gaze drifting toward the doorway to make sure my son was still occupied. “What kind of questions?”“The companies on your CV. They’ve been asking about your employment history.”A brief silence settled between us.“Who?” I asked calmly.“We don’t know.”I did.Nathaniel.A slow smile touched my lips. So he had finally started looking.