บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Curvy Prize: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Queen woke before her alarm, and for the first time in a long while, her first thought wasn't about her body. It was about breakfast.She stretched, smiled at the ceiling, and padded into the kitchen of her new apartment. It was small, bright, and entirely hers. The curtains were the color she had always wanted. The couch was too big for the room, and she loved it for exactly that reason.She made scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a cup of tea she didn't measure, count, or apologize for.Then she sat down at the little table by the window and ate every bite.No voice whispered. No mirror judged. Just the sun on her face and a quiet that finally felt like peace instead of punishment.The dress was emerald green. Queen held it up in front of the mirror and tilted her head. Six months ago she would have put it back on the rack, because James would have said it was too fitted, too bright, too much.Now she slipped it on, smoothed it over her hips, and turned. Her reflection looked back

Queen had spent the entire drive to Eleanor Williams's birthday party telling herself she was perfectly calm.She was not. She looked down at her dress for the third time.It was a deep emerald wrap dress that fell elegantly over her curves, fitted at the waist without squeezing her, with a modest neckline and long sleeves. She had paired it with simple gold earrings and heels.Ava had helped her choose it. Then Ava had spent twenty minutes reminding her not to change it.“You look beautiful,” Ava had said. Queen had rolled her eyes. “You've said that six times.”“Because you keep looking at yourself like you're about to find something wrong.” Queen had looked into the mirror.Six months ago, she probably would have. Tonight, she didn't. She liked the dress. That was enough. The car slowed as they approached the estate.Queen looked through the window. “Oh.” Ava leaned forward. “Okay. That's a house.” It wasn't simply a house.The Williams estate sat behind tall iron gates, surrounded

“Gala,” Ava said, a little too brightly. “Black tie. Very important. You absolutely have to look incredible.”Queen squinted at her across the kitchen island. “What gala?” “The Harbor View investors' appreciation dinner.” “That's not on my calendar.” “It was added last minute.”“By who?” “By the people in charge.” Ava sipped her coffee with the serene expression of a woman who had rehearsed this in the mirror. “Powerful people. Rich people. People with budgets. And you're the Director behind the entire project, so you can't just show up in office clothes.”But George did not tell me. Queen narrowed her eyes. Ava did not blink. Maybe he forgot“Fine,” Queen said slowly. “But why is Friday your only available day to take me shopping and get me pampered?” “Because I love you.” “That's suspicious.” “It's friendship.”Queen laughed and shook her head. Something was off. She could feel it, like a loose thread, but Ava's smile was so sincere and so stubbornly innocent that she let it go.She

“Pack your bag, Mrs Williams. We have one more stop for a week before our honeymoon is over,” George said, setting down his coffee.Queen looked up from the terrace table, a half-eaten pastry in her hand. “We're leaving? I thought we had one more night.”“We do.” His smile was slow and entirely too pleased with itself. “Just not here.”“George.”“Mrs. Williams.”“Where are we going?”“That,” he said, rising and dropping a kiss on her forehead, “is the point of a surprise.”She narrowed her eyes. “You've done a lot of surprises lately.”“And you've enjoyed every one.” He started toward the bedroom, then paused in the arch and glanced back, his voice softening. “Trust me.”She did. That was a strange, wonderful thing. She always had.**The jet waited on a private runway, white and sleek, with the Williams crest on its tail.Queen stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared.“Is that yours?” “It's ours, baby.” George took her hand. ****Queen’s phone buzzed against the cream leather

She ran up the last stair and nearly collided with her husband.George stopped just in time, one hand still holding his jacket over his shoulder, the other catching her elbow. His tie was loosened. His hair was a mess. He looked exhausted, and he looked at her like she was the best thing he'd seen all day.“You're barefoot,” he said.“You're early.”“I handled it.”“In *two hours*?”“Your husband is very persuasive.” His mouth curved. “And I wanted to come home to my wife.”The word hung in the air between them. *Home.* In a house he had bought for her. In a hall so large that her laugh came back from the ceiling.She stepped closer, slid her palms under the lapels of his shirt, and tipped her head back.“Say that again.”“I wanted to come home.”“To me.”“Yes. To you.” His hands settled warm and sure at her waist. “To the first night you ever slept in a house I chose for you.”Her heart gave a slow, delighted flip.“So you've admitted it,” she said. “It's a castle.”“It's a house.”“