Ex-Husband’s Love Dilemma
Chapter 9
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
his deep blue eyes, as
time, he said indifferently, “Cassandra, you better not be pregnant.”
say, “are you pregnant?” Instead he said, “you better not be
1/3
Emergency calls only
Chapter 9
eyelashes fluttered, and an icy grip squeezed at
her pregnancy without a sliver of hesitation.
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smile. “If I was pregnant, would you let me
he retorted, his assertiveness resounding in his
a deep wound in Cassandra’s heart. It hit hard that he’d never even considered that they might share
and managed a weak smile. “You seem pretty sure.
anything. That, however, was not something Cassandra was ready to remind him of. She held her composure, no trace of emotion crossing her
wanted to hear. But her biting smile tweaked something in him; it was as
moment before he casually suggested, “If you’re feeling under the weather, why don’t you visit a doctor? I can have
York was Orlando’s
“No thanks, I can manage on my own.”
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