All Chapters of Oops! I Am My Bully's Bride : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Marceline stood frozen at the foot of the bed, the foil packet still lying where Adrian had discarded it after his little demonstration. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat. The bruise forming on her hip pulsed with every shallow breath she took. Victoria’s fingers never stopped their slow, proprietary circles over Adrian’s chest, sliding lower now, tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his open shirt. Adrian’s arm tightened around the other woman’s waist. He turned his face into Victoria’s hair and murmured something low enough that Marceline could not catch the words. Victoria laughed softly, the sound rich and satisfied, and tilted her head so he could press another lingering kiss against the side of her throat. Marceline’s hands curled into fists at her sides. The heat started low in her stomach...hotter than the humiliation, hotter than the ache in her body. It climbed her ribs, flooded her chest, burned behind her eyes until the edges of the room blurred. S

The bedroom door opened without a knock. Adrian’s great-aunt stepped inside, her expression already set in the firm lines she used when she expected to be obeyed. Vivian straightened slightly but did not move away from his side.“Adrian,” the older woman said, “you’re coming with me. We’re going into the city for baby clothes. The nursery still has nothing proper and the child will be here any day now.”Adrian kept his eyes on Marceline. “Not now.”“Yes, now.” His aunt crossed the room and took hold of his arm with surprising strength. “The baby is the priority. Whatever this is can wait. I’ve already had the car brought around and the shop is holding the private room for us.”He pulled his arm free. “Send one of the staff. Or go yourself. I’m busy.”“Staff don’t choose the clothes for a Cross heir,” she replied, voice sharpening. “You do. On your feet. I won’t ask a third time.”Adrian stood only because her grip and the look on her face made it clear she would remain in the doorway

#Marceline# The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and floor polish. Bright overhead lights reflected off the polished linoleum as Marceline stood outside the private room they had given Adrian. She had arrived less than twenty minutes earlier after finally forcing one of the estate drivers to bring her. Blood still stained the front of her dress in dark, stiffened patches. Her hands had been scrubbed raw in a restroom sink, but faint traces remained under her nails. Aunt Vivian blocked the doorway. Victoria stood just behind her, arms folded, expression cool and satisfied. “You shouldn’t be here,” Vivian said. “I made myself clear at the house. You are not welcome in this hospital.” Marceline’s gaze moved past both women to the narrow window in the door. Through it she could see the edge of the bed, the rise and fall of monitors, the still shape of Adrian under white sheets. She did not answer immediately. She simply watched the slow, steady line of the heart monitor for

Marceline set the device aside and leaned back in the chair, the leather cool against her spine. The private suite held a hush that felt almost cold.....with soft beeps from the monitors, the faint rush of filtered air, the distant roll of a cart somewhere beyond the heavy door. Afternoon light filtered through half-drawn blinds, striping the floor in pale gold. Her lower back ached in a deep, steady throb. She shifted carefully, one hand supporting the heavy curve of her belly as the twins stirred and then settled again. Hunger gnawed, sharp and insistent, but she ignored it. Habit had taught her patience where safety was concerned. She turned her attention fully to the bed. Adrian lay still, face angled slightly toward the window. In sleep the hard edges of him softened. The usual sharpness around his mouth eased. Dark lashes rested against skin that looked almost vulnerable in the quiet light. A faint shadow of bruise lingered at his temple, already fading. His chest rose an

The alarms were still shrieking when the door opened again.Ethan came in hard, shoulders rising and falling like he had run the entire length of the corridor. His shirt was wrinkled, hair pushed back from his forehead with one hand, eyes already locked on the bed. He took in the cluster of staff, the way Adrian’s body still twitched under their hands, and then his gaze snapped to Marceline.She stood pressed against the wall, both arms locked around her belly, face pale and wet. One of the nurses tried to steer her farther back. She shook the woman off without looking.Ethan crossed the room in four long strides.“What happened?” His voice was rough.“He started seizing,” Marceline said. The words came out thin. “One minute the monitors were steady. The next...” She broke off as another small convulsion rippled through Adrian’s frame. A doctor barked an order. Someone adjusted the IV.Ethan watched for a few seconds, jaw tight, then turned fully to her. His eyes dropped to the heavy