Ew... I Slept With My 'Bro' For 3 Years?! Well, GO HELL, F*ckboy novel Chapter 18

Chapter 9

The whole Chadwick mess hit like a thunderstorm-loud, chaotic, and gone in a flash.

Afterward, the air at the factory felt lighter, cleaner.

The side-eyes and gossip that used to sting like nettles were gone.

Now, people greeted me with genuine warmth.

“Congrats, Ellie!”

“Vice foreman now, huh? Knew you’d make it!”

“If you ever need a hand, just holler!”

That new title-Vice Foreman Ellie-felt strange at first.

But my promotion came quick, thanks to how I’d handled the warehouse scandal and the new technical ideas I’d proposed.

No other woman at the plant had that kind of role.

It wasn’t just a job title-it was trust. And I wasn’t about to let that go to waste.

Benjamin’s reputation soared too.

People stopped whispering about his limp or quiet nature; they saw those as marks of grit and reliability.

The same folks who once said I’d “married down” now said things like-

“Ellie, you’ve got yourself a real man there!”

“Yep-solid, loyal, handy with his hands. That’s the kind that lasts!”

I’d just smile. Words weren’t needed. I knew the truth better than anyone.

Chadwick got ten years.

His folks moved away, ashamed.

Skylar disappeared too-probably scared to get dragged into it.

Rumor was she pulled strings to transfer to another state.

And just like that, the people who’d once wrecked my life were gone.

The nightmare that had haunted me for years was finally over.

Benjamin and I started fresh.

The factory rewarded us both for helping expose the theft-about $150 total, which was a small fortune back then.

Add that to my bonuses and new pay raise, and for the first time in our lives, we could breathe easy.

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iran 2 Voors21 Well GO HELL F*ckboy!

Chapter 9

Then came the biggest win of all-housing.

Veterans’ families and top employees got priority, and we qualified on both counts,

By year’s end, we were given a two-bedroom apartment in the factory’s new residential block.

Six hundred square feet-our own kitchen, our own bathroom, even a balcony.

Compared to the cramped, damp room we’d been living in-it felt like a palace.

Move-in day was bright and crisp.

Coworkers and old neighbors showed up to help carry boxes, laughing and shouting up and down the stairwell.

Benjamin gave directions with quiet authority, his usual stoicism cracking just enough for a smile to shine through.

As sunlight spilled through our new windows and the walls still smelled faintly of paint, I felt something deep inside me settle.

We finally had a real home.

I threw myself into making it perfect-new curtains, clean linens, everything spotless.

Benjamin got to work with his tools, turning scrap wood from the factory into furniture: a sturdy table, a wardrobe, even a grape trellis on the balcony.

By summer, the balcony was alive with vines, flowers, and the smell of homegrown cucumbers.

Benjamin’s side gigs took off too.

Word spread fast about the guy who could fix anything-radios, bikes, even TVs and washing machines.

When he got too busy, I’d sit by his side, handing him tools, wiping grease off his hands.

At night, we’d work in companionable silence-he tinkering with wires, me sewing under the lamp.

Every so often, we’d share a look, a smile-and it was enough.

We were saving money, building a life, little by little.

Then one day, a thought hit me.

In my last life, Benjamin had died in a factory accident while saving someone,

This time, I wasn’t letting that happen.

I started paying close attention to the machines, especially the older ones that rattled and groaned.

Then I drafted a full report to management, detailing the risks, naming the machines most likely to fail, and recommending urgent repairs or replacements.

At first, some guys laughed it off-said I was being paranoid.

But just days later, one of those very machines snapped mid operation.

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