Todos los capítulos de The Plus-Sized Bride No One Wanted: Too Fat to Love : Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

~ Ethan ~ The paper in my hands felt warm from the printer. My eyes moved across the words once, then twice. Each line made my jaw tighten a little more. Julian Vance had filed a formal complaint with the state medical board. The document accused me of professional misconduct. It said I was using my position as a doctor to exploit a vulnerable patient. It said I had turned Knight Manor into a private residence for a woman who should have been in a proper care facility. All of it was lies. I set the paper down on my desk and leaned back in my chair. The leather creaked under my weight. Outside my office window, the sun was starting to set over the Northgate Medical Campus. The glass buildings caught the orange light and glowed like fire. My hands were steady. They had to be. I had spent years learning to keep my hands calm even when my heart was racing. But inside my chest, something hot and sharp was burning. Julian wasn't doing this because he believed the complaint was real.

~ Ivy ~The taxi dropped me off at the bottom of the driveway. I paid the driver with shaking hands and stood there for a long moment, watching the car disappear around the bend. The gravel crunched under my shoes as I walked up the path. My legs felt weak, like they might give out at any second. Every muscle in my body was trembling. I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling my heart pounding against my ribs. I had done it. I had walked into Julian's office, looked him in the eye, and told him exactly what I thought of him. And now I felt empty. Not sad or angry. Just empty.The guest house door swung open before I could reach for the handle. Ethan stood in the doorway, still wearing his dark blue surgical scrubs. His hair was messy, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He must have just come back from the hospital. "Ivy." His voice was low and tight. "I've been calling you for hours." I blinked. I had left my phone on the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry. I didn't—" "I was worri

~ Ivy ~I was about to throw the envelope in the trash when Maya grabbed my wrist. "Don't you dare," she said. The envelope was thick and cream-colored, with gold letters that said ASHBOURNE PRIVATE ACADEMY - TEN YEAR REUNION. It had been sitting on my kitchen counter for three days. Every time I saw it, my stomach tightened."I don't want to go," I said. "You know what those people were like." Maya pulled the envelope out of my hand and held it up. "That's exactly why you should go." She was sitting on the stool by my kitchen island, drinking coffee from my chipped blue mug. Her laptop was open to an email from a gallery, but she wasn't looking at it anymore."Do you remember when I told you about my senior year?" I asked. "When they made pig noises every time I walked into the cafeteria?" Maya's face got tight. "I remember." "I don't need to see them again. I have a good life now. I don't need to prove anything." Maya set the mug down. "It's not about proving anything to them. It's

~ Ivy ~ My phone buzzed on the workbench, face-down, and I let it go to voicemail before I even looked at the screen. Old habit. Numbers I didn't know used to mean trouble, and some habits don't leave just because the trouble stopped. I wiped the paint off my hands and picked it up anyway. One new voicemail. I pressed play. "Hello, Miss Monroe, this is Gerald Ashford, calling on behalf of—" I didn't let him finish. My thumb found the delete button before he got to the second sentence, and I stood there holding the phone like it might ring again on its own. My hands were shaking. Just a little. Enough that I noticed. Maya looked up from the canvas she was stretching in the corner. "Everything okay?" "Fine." I set the phone down screen-first, like that would help. "Just old business trying to become new business." "That's not an answer." "It's the only one I've got right now." I forced a smile, and Maya let it go, because that's the kind of friend she was. She didn't push. She j

~ Ivy ~The studio smelled of linseed oil, fresh canvas, and black coffee.I stood in front of my wooden easel, holding a wide palette knife coated in deep cobalt blue paint. Afternoon sunlight came through the front window, shining across the polished floorboards and the half-finished commission resting on the stand. My green apron was smeared with gray and gold smudges from yesterday's work.A small brass bell chimed above the front door.I set the palette knife down on the edge of my glass mixing tray, wiped my fingers on a clean cotton rag, and turned around, expecting a client from the arts quarter.The person standing in the doorway was not a client.My breath caught in my throat. I stood completely still by the easel, my hands holding the rag tight against my apron.Lily stood just inside the threshold.She looked thinner than the last time I saw her. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, but several loose strands hung around her pale face. She wore a beige trenc