Ex-Husband’s Love Dilemma

Chapter 9

Having hardly eaten a morsel all day, Cassandra gave directions to the Dustmeadow Mansion’s chef to whip up some spaghetti as she got back.

The sight of the dish–loaded with carrots and minced meat–should’ve stirred her to chow down. Instead, a swell of nausea swept over her just looking at it.

Initially, she chalked it up to running on empty for so long. But when she tried to lift a spoonful to her mouth, she was hit by a wall of sickness that roared through her.

Cassandra bolted to the bathroom, caught in the grip of violent dry heaves.

It was one hell of an ordeal, feeling as if her insides got caught in a blender. It finally eased after what felt like forever. Cassandra shook it off, only to find herself face–to–face with Orlando.

Sporting a blank stare, Cassandra looked at Orlando, gobsmacked. “When’d you get back?” she stammered. It’s like he ghosted in without a peep.

Orlando’s face was a mask of indifference, his brooding eyes trained on her. “What’s up with you?”

A shadow of panic flashed in Cassandra’s eyes before she gathered herself and lied smoothly, “I’m good.”

“You sure about that?” Orlando pushed, a frown etching itself on his face.

Quick to put him at ease, Cassandra fired back with a bright smile. “Absolutely! What do you reckon happened to me?”

before she managed to cloak it

the glimpse of her fluster. He bore into her with his deep blue

a long time, he said indifferently, “Cassandra, you better not

better not be pregnant.” Similar words, but the

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Emergency calls only

Chapter 9

and an icy grip squeezed at

denied the possibility of her

075% 16:59

“If I was pregnant, would you let me

way you could be pregnant,” he retorted, his assertiveness

Cassandra’s heart. It hit hard that he’d never even considered that they

hurt and managed a weak smile. “You seem pretty sure. Why

night when he was too drunk to remember anything. That, however, was not something Cassandra was ready to remind him of. She held

hear. But her biting smile tweaked something in him; it was as if a sharp barb had brushed

deepened a little, and his gaze intensified. They held each other’s gazes for a moment before he casually suggested,

was Orlando’s secretary.

refusal. “No thanks, I can manage