I was his allergen she was his cure what if this allergen turns lethal? novel Chapter 47

Chapter 1

My husband’s cheated on me over a thousand times, but he still won’t give me a divorce.

His family calls me a nobody, a gold-digging tramp.

Five years ago, I asked for a divorce for the first time.

Johnson Blackthorne didn’t say a word-he just locked me in our estate house for a whole month.

A month later, I found out I was pregnant.

Three years ago, I asked again.

That night, Johnson moved back into his parents’ mansion.

Then I got granted one day a week with my own kid.

Today, I asked for the third time-and this time, I’m walking away.

Because now I know my child doesn’t love me, and my marriage was never real.

I’m no different from the women he sees on the side.

My friend used the exact wedding planner I hired for my own wedding.

I spent six months planning everything.

Johnson took one minute to shoot it all down.

After a half-hearted ceremony, Johnson finally agreed.

No matter who else he slept with, I’d still be Mrs. Johnson Blackthorne.

Until today-when he brought his little girlfriend to the wedding.

The second we walked into the venue, everyone turned to stare.

Some were curious, some gossipy, some even looked sorry for me.

Johnson, though, was his usual unbothered self:

“You made it.”

I looked at the bubbly girl hanging on his arm and nodded calmly.

After seven years of marriage, his cheating didn’t surprise me anymore.

The groom looked awkward-clearly hadn’t expected this drama.

“Hey sis-in-law, glad you’re here. Make yourself comfortable.”

12:20

I Was His Allergen, She Was The Cure. What If This Allergen Turns Lethal?

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Chapter 1

I gave him a polite smile.

Honestly, I appreciated him trying to smooth things over.

My seat was already taken-by the uninvited guest Johnson brought.

He glanced at me, completely unfazed:

“Someone’s sitting there. Just grab another seat.”

After years of swallowing my pride, obedience was second nature.

“Sure.”

The moment I sat down, the stares only got worse-less subtle, more cutting.

Even the groom looked more concerned about my feelings than Johnson ever did.

The wedding went on.

The bride walked down the aisle in a dress I designed,

On the exact red carpet I picked for my own wedding.

She was marrying into the dream I never got.

The girl on Johnson’s arm was young, sweet, full of life.

“Johnson says you’re amazing with flowers, Scarlett.”

“Think you could make me a bouquet just like the bride’s?”

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