All Chapters of The Plus-Sized Bride No One Wanted: Too Fat to Love : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

~ Chloe ~Pain woke me before the light did.The metal bench in Ward 4 had no cushion. Cold seeped straight through the thin cotton smock into my ribs. The cinderblock walls smelled of old bleach and stale sweat. Behind the heavy iron bars of the recreation pen, the hallway television blared its morning feed. I sat up, gripping the edge of the cot. My blonde roots showed two inches of dark, oily brown. My fingernails, once sculpted and polished in French shellac, were chewed raw to the pink skin. On the screen beyond the mesh, a society reporter beamed:“...the upcoming civic celebration honors Dr. Ethan Knight and acclaimed textile artist Ivy Monroe, whose Phoenix Foundation just announced its third downtown youth center...”There she was.Ivy’s face filled the twenty-four-inch display. She stood on the sunlit steps of the Arts Center. Beside her stood Ethan Knight, his posture tall, his hand resting lightly against her spine. He looked at her like she was the only object in the room

~ Ivy ~ Ethan’s grip tightens on my hand as he pulls me toward the heavy oak doors of the North Terrace. Wind rattles the glass panes. A shadow flickers across the stone walkway outside. My chest locks, and my feet dig into the carpet. "Ethan, stop," I say, pulling back against his weight. "Someone is out there." "Trust me, Ivy," he says. His voice stays level, but a small twitch jumps along his jaw. He pushes the brass latch down. "Walk outside with me." The cold evening air hits my face like ice water. Torch flames flicker inside black iron sconces along the stone railing. A semicircle of people stands in the amber light. Maya clutches a silver tray with crystal glasses. Leo and Sasha stand close together, their coats buttoned to their chins. Beside them, Richard Knight rests both hands on his silver walking cane, while Margaret Knight wraps a thick wool shawl over her shoulders. Everyone stays frozen, watching us. "What is this?" I ask, my knuckles going white around Ethan’s slee

~ Ivy ~The tiny brass bell above the café door rattled, and my breath hitched in my throat. Cold autumn air rushed across the wooden floorboards of the Riverside Arts Quarter bakery. Footsteps paused on the welcome mat. I locked my hands around my heavy stoneware mug, letting the hot ceramic sting my palms to keep myself anchored. Lily stood by the entrance, hesitating beneath the warm yellow lamps.Her shoulders curled inward under a faded, navy trench coat with frayed cuffs. The hem brushed against scuffed ankle boots. Her blond hair, once styled into glossy waves by expensive salon hands, hung in a loose, flat ponytail against her neck. She clutched a vinyl tote bag against her ribs like a shield, searching the small room until her pale blue eyes found mine. Her lips trembled. She took three slow steps forward, her boots squeaking on the wet timber. "Ivy," Lily whispered, her voice cracking over the hiss of the espresso machine."Sit down, Lily," I said. My voice sounded flat and

~ Ivy ~A radio squawked with static beside my ear."Elevator bank three is clear, Doctor," Frank spoke into his black walkie-talkie. His thumb pressed the side button hard. "The service hall has two men stationed at the gate."Ethan kept his hand flat against my lower back, his fingers warm through my woolen coat. His jaw stayed clenched tight, like a piece of carved granite. Two days had passed since the hospital alert. Chloe was loose somewhere in the dark alleys of Ashbourne, carrying a stolen gun and an old rage, and every guard on the Knight payroll stood on high alert. "Check the emergency fire stairwell again," Ethan ordered. His voice sounded like dry gravel scraping together. "I want keycard locks on every single door from the ground floor up to this roof.""Already done, sir," Frank replied, nodding once. He slipped the radio back onto his leather belt. "Every guest must show photo identification at the front lobby downstairs. The biometric scanners arrive in the morning."

~ Ethan ~Rain lashed against the heavy bay windows of my father’s study. Downstairs, a security radio hissed with static."Post three is clear," Frank’s gravelly voice reported through the speaker. "Gate sensors are active. No movement along the perimeter."I gripped the edge of the mahogany desk, staring at the glowing monitors. Outside, four private security guards in black slickers patrolled the stone drive. The city was under an emergency alert. Chloe was somewhere out in the dark with a stolen police revolver and blood on her hands. My father sat in the leather armchair near the fireplace. A printed copy of tomorrow’s wedding program rested across his knee. "Sit down, Ethan," my father said, setting his reading glasses on the side table. "You are pacing a trench into the floorboards.""Marcus called twenty minutes ago," I answered, turning to face him. "The state police tracked a stolen utility van to the industrial yards near the river. Chloe abandoned it two hours ago. She ha