Buying My Forever Wife novel Chapter 108

A complicated knot of emotions tightened in Alaric's chest.

He reached out and gently ruffled his daughter's hair, helplessly agreeing.

"I will. Don't worry so much, just go to sleep. I'm turning off the light."

"Okay. Goodnight, Daddy."

Hearing his daughter's sweet, sleepy voice, a warm feeling spread through Alaric's heart.

He quietly pulled the door shut and walked down the hall, but his footsteps slowed as he approached the master bedroom.

If Ivy's family really was dealing with a crisis and she desperately needed cash, he wasn't completely opposed to proceeding as they had previously discussed.

After all, this marriage was purely transactional. They both got what they needed.

With that thought in mind, Alaric pushed open the door to the master suite.

He fully expected to find Ivy tucked into his bed.

Instead, when he walked over, the bed was completely empty.

Where did she go?

Alaric pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

Ivy was already settling into the guest room.

Seeing Mr. Foster's name flash on the screen, she answered without hesitation.

"Yes, Mr. Foster? Is there a problem?"

Her tone was flawlessly polite and utterly cold.

Alaric felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of irritation.

He gritted his teeth, forcing down his displeasure as he demanded, "Where are you?"

"I'm in bed."

"Which bed?"

"The guest room."

Alaric was speechless.

She actually went to the guest room?

Stella had specifically told her to sleep in the master suite.

Why the hell did she go to the guest room?

Did she really despise the idea of sharing a bed with him that much?

Frustrated and suffocating under a heavy wave of annoyance, Alaric didn't say another word. He furiously ended the call.

Ivy stared at the disconnected screen, shrugged, tossed the phone aside, and closed her eyes.

But sleep completely evaded her.

Her mind kept looping back to the terrifying nightmare.

Ivy blew softly on a spoonful of oatmeal to cool it down before handing the bowl to Stella.

"If it's yummy, make sure you eat a lot."

"I will!" Stella beamed sweetly.

Ivy glanced across the table at the silent, brooding man and tentatively spoke up.

"Mr. Foster, is it alright if I take some of the food from the house with me? A friend of mine is sick in the hospital, and the food outside isn't very sanitary. I wanted to bring them a home-cooked meal."

Alaric looked up.

Assuming the "friend" she meant was Ethan, he didn't care enough to argue.

"Mm."

Receiving his permission, a genuine smile broke across Ivy's face.

"Thank you, Mr. Foster."

Alaric hated how overly polite she was being.

She didn't act like a wife at all.

Did she seriously plan on treating him like a distant boss for the rest of their lives?

Deeply irritated, Alaric lost his appetite. He stood up, tossing his napkin on the table.

"Stop calling me Mr. Foster from now on."