Todos los capítulos de The Plus-Sized Bride No One Wanted: Too Fat to Love : Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

~ Ethan ~A sharp, silver light bounced off the metal trays in the scrub room. My fingers pulled the wet latex gloves from my skin, dropping them into the plastic waste bin with a heavy thud. Six hours. A six-hour cranial operation, slicing bone and moving blood vessels to save a father’s life. My hands stayed steady, cold, and sure.The moment my back hit the tile wall, the calm fell away.My mind leaped straight across Ashbourne City, landing directly on Ivy’s studio steps. The court filings were resting, the headlines were growing cold, but the space left behind was vast and empty. It terrified me more than an open skull.I pushed through the heavy clinic doors. The evening wind blew damp river air across my face.Marcus Webb leaned against the stone pillar near my car, holding a thick brown folder against his chest. His trench coat flapped in the breeze."The Bennett lawyers submitted another delay motion at four," Marcus said, not bothering to offer a hello."Did the judge take i

~ Julian ~ "Twelve percent," Douglas Sterling said. He slid the quarterly report down the mahogany table until it bumped my hand. I sat at the head of the boardroom on the forty-eighth floor, and every chair around me was full. Every eye slid away from me after one second. "The big funds dumped twelve percent of Vance stock since the scandal," Douglas said. "Three of them are sitting right here. They want answers." The woman on his left tapped her pen against a folder. The man beside her studied the ceiling. "I've read the numbers," I said. "Then read this one." Douglas jabbed a finger at a line of red ink. "The city water line tenders. Three weeks, Julian. Nobody has touched them." "I'll sign them today." Douglas snorted. "You said that last Tuesday." I looked down at the report. Red numbers filled every column. Revenue, down. Contracts, down. The page felt heavier than it should. "Two banks are waiting on credit renewals too," the woman said. "They keep calling to ask if th

~ Ivy ~The morning sun hit the glass doors of the art boutique, throwing bright squares of light across the polished floor. I held a roll of heavy Belgian linen under my arm. The woven fabric felt rough, thick, and real under my fingers. Maya pushed open the heavy glass door, a bright smile on her face as she adjusted her canvas tote bag. "That linen is going to make the texture pop on your new series, Ivy. The gallery curator called twice before breakfast just to check our delivery schedule." "It takes three coats of primer before the weave holds paint properly," I said, stepping onto the wide granite sidewalk of the Grand Promenade. The street was full of people. Shoppers carried shopping bags, office workers walked fast with paper coffee cups, and yellow cabs honked along the curb. The fresh breeze smelled of roasted nuts from a street cart and the sharp river air blowing from the south. For the first time in my life, walking through a crowded street did not make me want to cur

~ Ivy Monroe ~ The ghost of the pain awoke deep in my lower stomach. It was a dull, heavy throb that pulled me straight out of sleep. I sat up in bed, pressing both palms flat against my belly. The memory of the marble floor, the cold hospital room, and the baby I lost came rushing back like a sudden gust of wind. Outside, the streetlights cast long shadows against the walls of the Knight Manor guest house. The scene from the promenade earlier today replayed in my mind over and over. Julian Vance, the untouchable billionaire who once choked me and discarded me onto a freezing road, had dropped to his knees on the concrete. He had begged me. He had cried for the cameras. Rest was impossible. My skin felt hot, and the silence inside the bedroom grew far too loud. I slid out of bed, pulling a thick grey wool cardigan over my shoulders and wrapping it tightly around my waist. Slipping into my shoes, I opened the heavy door and stepped outside into the cool night air. The storm ha

~ Ivy Monroe ~The silver envelope hit the center of my drawing table with a heavy slap. The embossed lettering caught the afternoon light, shining right in my face: The Ashbourne Cultural Foundation Annual Benefactors’ Ball.My stomach twisted into a knot so tight it took my breath away.The room seemed to shrink. I closed my eyes, and instantly, the memory tore through me. The smell of sweet floral perfume and sour wine. The sharp smack of my head hitting the polished stone. The terrible, warm stickiness that had soaked right through my navy dress while Chloe Bennett backed away and Julian walked right past my reaching hands.It was the very same ballroom. The very same floor."Ivy?"Ethan walked through the door of my studio, carrying a tray with two white mugs of chamomile tea and a plate of warm toast. He stopped the second his eyes found my face. He set the tray on the side counter and crossed the room in two strides, his blue-gray eyes sharp with concern."What is that?" Ethan