Todos los capítulos de The Plus-Sized Bride No One Wanted: Too Fat to Love : Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 75

~ Ivy ~I did not look at the windows. I looked at the thick brown folder resting on my lap. The paper felt rough against my fingers. Last night, Richard Knight had looked at that folder with grim certainty. "This is enough to act on," he had told us, his deep voice carrying no doubt. "Not just legally. It is enough so that no one will ever dare to call you a liar again." His words hung in the quiet morning room. My hands rested flat on the cardboard cover. I did not open it. Across the room, Ethan sat on the edge of the large wooden desk. His eyes watched me steadily. He did not rush me. He did not push the folder open. He simply waited. "Ethan," I said. My voice was low, barely louder than a whisper."I am right here, Ivy," he answered gently.I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. My fingers tightened on the edge of the folder, creasing the paper."Once this starts, I don't get to control how far it goes," I said. "Do I?" Ethan stood up from the desk. He walked over with slow,

~ Ethan ~"Drink this before it gets cold," Dad said, setting a ceramic mug of black coffee right on top of my open medical chart.I blinked against the harsh fluorescent glare of my desk lamp, rubbing the dull ache behind my eyes. "What time is it?""Past two in the morning," Richard replied, pulling up a visitor's chair and sitting down heavily. He looked at the paperwork scattered across my desk. "You performed two back-to-back craniotomies today, Ethan. You haven't left Northgate Medical Campus in eighteen hours, and now you are playing detective instead of sleeping.""I can't sleep," I said, sliding the medical files aside to reveal the manila folder beneath them. "The Assistant District Attorney, Marcus Webb, made it very clear this morning. He told us that Ivy's statement, the delayed 911 call, and the grainy security footage from the gala hallway are a great start, but they aren't bulletproof. Julian Vance's legal team will spin it as a tragic accident between two women who tr

~ Ethan ~"Ethan, it isn’t just an accident anymore," Marcus Webb said. He dropped a thick manila folder onto the metal table, the sound flat and heavy in the cramped room.The county records basement smelled like decaying paper and burned breakroom coffee. Overhead, a dying fluorescent tube hummed a shrill, uneven note that had been drilling into my temples for twenty minutes. I sat with my hands locked together on the scratched laminate, surgical scrubs still smelling faintly of antiseptic. I hadn’t slept more than three hours in the last two days, and behind my eyes was a steady, thrumming ache."What did you dig up?" I asked.Webb tapped the edge of the folder. "Ohio. Five years back. College town outside Columbus. A kid named Miller was walking back from a campus bar when Chloe Bennett plowed her sports car onto the sidewalk. Shattered both his femurs. Three months in traction.""And not a mark on her record.""Her old man wrote a seven-figure check before the ink was dry on the