All Chapters of FAT, BARREN, AND REJECTED: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

JASON’S POV The wedding planning resumed within days, Chloe settling into the role with an enthusiasm that felt, to me, considerably more calculated than genuine, though I found I lacked the energy to examine that particular observation too closely. I told myself I was simply managing the political reality Aldric and the council had laid out weeks earlier—a finalized marriage, whatever bride ultimately stood at the center of it, remained the safest path forward against Ashcombe’s continued interference. Chloe, whatever her actual motives, at least offered a clean resolution to the identity confusion that had plagued the arrangement since its earliest days. I told myself several other things over those first few days as well, none of which fully quieted the discomfort that had settled into my chest since watching those gates close behind a woman I still hadn’t fully decided whether I’d wronged. Chloe proved easy enough to manage, in her own way. She asked few questions about my

JASON’S POVI found my grandmother in her study again the following morning, the hotel staffing log still fresh in my mind from the night before, and this time I had no intention of leaving until I understood exactly why she’d spent the past week quietly steering me toward marrying the wrong woman.“I know Ella was there that night. I know she never took my wallet.” I set the folder down on her desk without preamble. “You’ve already told me you arranged the chemical yourself, months ago, targeting some woman you’d selected in advance. What I don’t understand is why, the moment the truth finally surfaced in that hospital room, you did nothing to stop Chloe from stepping in. Why you let me walk out of that room believing I might actually consider marrying the wrong sister.”My grandmother’s hands stilled over the papers in front of her, though her expression remained carefully composed, giving away considerably less than I’d hoped for.“I had my reasons,” she said.“That’s not an answer

JASON’S POVI spent three days trying to convince myself that Chloe was the more sensible choice.I failed at it thoroughly, though not for lack of effort. Every time I sat across from her at dinner, watching her navigate the household staff with the same practiced, agreeable charm she brought to everything, I found myself measuring her against a woman I’d sent away with a documented truth already sitting unexamined in my desk drawer, and the comparison never once favored the woman actually sitting in front of me.The staffing log. The wallet, found and released to auction, never stolen by the woman I’d spent a year quietly resenting for a theft that had never happened. My grandmother’s evasive, unsatisfying admission that she had her own reasons for suddenly favoring Chloe, reasons she refused to fully explain no matter how forcefully I pressed her.None of it added up to anything except one conclusion I’d been avoiding for three days out of sheer, stubborn pride: I had wronged Ella

JASON’S POVI didn’t wait for Corwin’s careful, methodical search to run its full course. Two hours after learning she’d vanished, I had my own guards mobilized, every resource the Silvermoon pack could quietly muster directed toward locating a woman who’d disappeared with no forwarding address and, apparently, no intention of being found by anyone connected to this house.I told myself the urgency was purely practical—a pregnant woman carrying my children, threatened by a man I already knew was capable of real violence, deserved every resource I could throw at finding her quickly. I told myself several other things over the course of that long, tense afternoon, none of which fully addressed the deeper guilt sitting heavy in my chest, the understanding that whatever danger she was currently running from, my own cruelty had played no small part in leaving her without adequate protection when she needed it most.If I hadn’t sent her away. If I’d believed her the first time she told me t

JASON’S POVThe man holding Ella’s arm hesitated only a fraction of a second before deciding, apparently, that the odds hadn’t shifted enough to warrant surrender.“Get them in the car,” he barked to his partner, still restraining Delia several feet away, and I felt something in my chest ignite with a fury I hadn’t allowed myself to feel this completely since the corridor with Sherwood weeks earlier.My guards moved fast, closing the distance from our vehicle with the coordinated speed of men trained for exactly this kind of confrontation, but I wasn’t willing to simply wait for them to handle it. I pushed my chair forward hard, closing the gap myself, my hands steady on the wheels despite the fury coursing through me.The man nearest me turned, startled by my approach, clearly having assumed the wheelchair meant I intended to remain at a safe distance while my guards handled the physical confrontation. He miscalculated badly.I drove the chair forward with everything I had, using the