All Chapters of My Boss, My Husband: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

Emma White's P.O.V.I struggled to move under the weight of my wedding gown, but I didn't stop. I had to catch Jason before he disappeared."Wait! Please, just talk to me!" I called out, my voice heavy with desperation.He halted and turned to face me, his expression unreadable—an icy wall of indifference."There's nothing for us to discuss, Miss Emma," he replied, his tone cold and formal. "Return to your fitting. I'll step out for a moment."He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. His jaw tightened as he glanced around, clearly uncomfortable with the stares of the boutique staff, who were now trying yet failing to pretend they weren't watching."They're looking at us," he hissed through clenched teeth."Let them look," I countered, ignoring the tremor in my voice. "We need to talk."Jason looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. It was as if looking at me caused him pain."What is there left to say?" he asked, his voice quieter but no less strained. "You and I—we're finishe

My mother was a master at handling emergencies. She always had been. With practiced ease, she flushed the toilet, grabbed some tissues, and helped me up from the cold bathroom floor. Her hands were steady as she wiped my mouth clean."You can do this, Emma. You have to do this. Have we not discussed this before?" Her voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was a firm undercurrent to her words."I saw him again..." I admitted, my voice trembling. "He hates me. He wants nothing to do with me."Her gaze softened, tinged with sadness as she finished cleaning me up."My darling girl, your relationship with that boy ended a long time ago. It was a youthful romance. You've put him on a pedestal. Let him go. It's what's best for everyone.""For everyone or for Dad?" My voice cracked as I challenged her. "Because even if Jason hadn't reappeared, I still wouldn't want to get married. I feel like I'm suffocating. I just... I just want it all to stop. Should I throw myself in front of a car?

Jason's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. He kept his composure, but I could tell he wasn't pleased."What kind of future or protection could I possibly offer Emma if she chose me?" he asked, his voice firm. "Have you thought about that? I'm nobody right now."I felt a pang of helplessness in my chest. Leaning my head back against the car seat, I stared at the roof before turning to him."Working for that tyrant Mark messed with your head," I said firmly. "Of course, you're someone. Everyone is someone, no matter how much or how little they have in the bank."That struck a nerve. Jason looked away, his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. For now, I let it drop, understanding his need for silence.We arrived at our destination not long after—none other than the Brown mansion. It was as timeless and enchanting as ever, an estate brimming with history. Once the home of my grandmother Leona, it now belonged to

My uncle Lucius was quite a character, one of those rare people who could only be reined in by a select few. His wife, my aunt Marianne, was one of them. So was my uncle Leonardo, and on rare occasions, my aunt Lucia. Right now, it was Lucia's turn to try."A séance, Lucius? Do you think this is some kind of joke? Because it's not," she reprimanded him."Who said anything about joking? I'm talking about diving into the mysteries of this house's mysticism," he replied, his tone bordering on mockery—though knowing him, it was probably intentional. "Did I ever tell you about the time your aunt discovered bones in the basement? Just by pure intuition?"Lucius was looking straight at me like he was setting up for one of his infamous stories. But then I noticed the embarrassed look on Lucia's face, and I wasn't so sure."Wait, is that true? You found bones? Whose were they?" I asked, intrigued.She rubbed her temple as though the memory pained her. "You make me sound like some kind of w

Making a grand return meant doing it with flair, and tonight, at this social event, I was ensuring just that. It was the grand opening of a contemporary art museum hosted by the Barclay family. The same influential faces as always filled the guest list, and naturally, I had to attend—not just to push my business agenda but to quell the rumors I knew had been circulating about me.My strategy was working. Guests swarmed around me like flies, disguising their gossip as concern. I heard it all—whispers of a psychotic breakdown, even jail time—all under the guise of fake sympathy and hollow laughter."Is that you, Miss 'Disappeared Without a Trace'? I need to touch you to confirm you're real," Ryan greeted, striding up with the usual crew: Kit, Marie, and Amber."I'd really prefer if you didn't," I replied, my tone dry.Everyone laughed as we exchanged pleasantries. I repeated the fabricated story we'd carefully crafted to justify my absence. It was vital to preserve my reputation and