All Chapters of FAT, BARREN, AND REJECTED: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

ELLA’S POVThe days following the false alarm passed in a strange, suspended quality, danger and tenderness existing side by side in a way I hadn’t quite experienced before—Aldric’s security review continuing urgently in the background, while Jason and I found ourselves clinging to each other with a closeness that felt considerably more essential than any careful courtship ritual we might have otherwise observed.He barely left my side during those final days before the wedding, and I found I didn’t want him to, the fear from that night settling into both of us a fresh understanding of exactly how fragile and precious what we were building together actually was.“I keep thinking about how close we came,” I admitted one evening, curled against his side while he read through yet another security briefing, his free hand resting protectively against my stomach the way it so often did now. “Not just tonight, with the false alarm. All of it. Sherwood, Chloe, Cross’s entire scheme. How easil

ELLA’S POVThe armed men’s entrance shattered the ceremony’s careful, formal atmosphere so completely that for one disoriented moment, I couldn’t fully process what was actually happening, my mind still caught in the sacred, focused intimacy of exchanging vows with Jason only seconds earlier.Then the screaming registered fully, the chaos of panicked guests scrambling in every direction at once, and terror crashed over me with sudden, overwhelming force.“Get her out,” I heard Jason shout somewhere behind me, though the words barely registered clearly through the rising panic, my own guards attempting to form a protective barrier around me even as the crush of fleeing guests made maintaining any kind of formation increasingly difficult.I felt hands grip my arms, uncertain for one terrifying moment whether they belonged to my own security detail or to whatever threat had just stormed the ceremony, and fought instinctively against the hold before recognizing the familiar uniform of Jas

ELLA’S POVThe vehicle sped along roads I didn’t recognize, my captor having secured me in the back seat with a restraint that left my hands bound but thankfully allowed enough freedom to keep one arm curled protectively across my stomach, some small mercy amid the terrifying chaos of the past several minutes.“Please,” I said, my voice shaking despite every effort to maintain composure. “I’m pregnant with four children. Whatever careful handling this ride requires, I need you to actually consider that.”The man beside me, the same one who’d pulled me from the ceremony hall, glanced at me with an expression that carried more calculation than cruelty, though the distinction offered little genuine comfort. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t do anything foolish. Mr. Cross has been very clear that harm to the children isn’t acceptable, whatever else this arrangement requires.”I absorbed that small, cold reassurance with complicated relief, understanding at least that whatever twisted p

ELLA’S POVThe room they’d brought me to carried an unsettling contradiction I hadn’t fully anticipated—comfortable, even elegant in its furnishings, though the locked door and barred windows made unmistakably clear that whatever comfort had been provided served practical rather than compassionate purposes.I’d been held here for what I estimated to be nearly two days now, my sense of time growing increasingly unreliable given the windowless interior and the careful, deliberate isolation my captors maintained. A woman brought meals at what I assumed were regular intervals, though she offered nothing beyond the barest necessary communication, and I’d seen no sign of Cross himself since arriving, only the occasional glimpse of Sherwood passing the door’s small window during infrequent security checks.I spent the isolated hours cycling between desperate fear and grim, determined resolve, understanding that whatever eventual confrontation awaited me, I needed to preserve as much strength

ELLA’S POVI woke to unfamiliar hands working over me, disoriented panic flooding through me before I fully registered the woman who’d been bringing my meals now pressing what appeared to be makeshift bandaging against me, her expression carrying genuine alarm rather than her earlier careful detachment.“You’re awake,” she said, relief evident in her voice despite her continued focus on managing whatever medical crisis had overtaken me. “Good. I need you to stay as still as possible.”“The babies,” I managed, my voice weak and thin, though the desperate need to understand their fate overrode whatever exhaustion currently gripped my body. “Are they—”“Still there,” she said, though her careful phrasing offered less reassurance than I desperately needed. “I don’t have proper medical training, but the bleeding’s slowed considerably since you passed out. I’ve done what I can with what’s available here.”I lay there absorbing that fragile reassurance, understanding with grim clarity that w