Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife

It was Abigail’s first night at the old Piers residence.

The matron and Kelly had been through quite a lot these past few days. It took some convincing from Abigail to get them to take a rest next door while she kept watch through the night.

April’s weather was quite pleasant. Even with the doors and windows of the infant’s room shut, it didn’t feel stuffy. It was a lot more comfortable than the small storeroom Abigail used to occupy at the Green’s Mansion.

The little fellow was still in the stage where he’d eat and sleep. He only had two needs—eating and being changed. Once these were satisfied, he’d be well-behaved.

Abigail lay on her side, finally finding the time to observe the baby, who was barely ten days old.

“Hi, I am mom!”

The little one slept soundly, completely undisturbed.

Abigail chuckled to herself but felt a heaviness settle in once her laughter faded. The contract she had with Brandon Piers was for one year. What would she do about Teddy after one year?

Moreover, at the age of 19, life was just starting for her. How was she supposed to raise a child? She had too many things to do. How could she possibly care for a child well?

The Piers family wouldn’t possibly allow her.

Could she expect Brandon Piers to marry her?

Men like Brandon Piers found even the idea of marrying Ruby Green a burden. Marrying a 200-pound woman would be a joke.

But even if he would agree to it, she herself might not necessarily want to.

Especially because she…

Thinking of Jeffrey Foster, Abigail’s face suddenly turned gloomy.

Her five-year-long crush on him was silenced before she got a chance to confess her feelings. Would it still count if she confessed while in her current appearance?

She thought of the senior telling her sternly, “I am not interested in ladies with excessive body fat. I suggest you receive a thorough check-up at our clinic to maintain your health. Sincere Hospital is sincerely at your service.”

“Ha.”

Thud! Thud! Thud…

As Abigail visualized herself being rejected, she laughed and then heard rhythmic knocking at the door. She instinctively tidied herself up and got up, “Kelly?”

“It’s me.” There was a slight huskiness in the smooth voice.

“Brandon Piers?” Abigail was surprised. She looked at the time—it was already eleven. Was Brandon Piers knocking on her door to see his child at this late hour?

After hesitating for a moment, she opened the door, only to see a tall figure tumble in. Instinctively, she took hold of him, being hit by the sickly sweet smell of blood.

She quickly pulled him in and bolted the door back, “Are you injured?”

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Brandon sat down on the sofa. His face was even paler than usual, making his already enviable porcelain skin seem devoid of any color, seductively ill. As he spoke, the corner of his lips lifted slightly, playing the role of the beautiful invalid to perfection.

Bewitched by his beauty, Abigail came out of her trance, “What kind of injury is it?”

“Gun.” As he spoke, Brandon lifted his black shirt, revealing his beautiful abs and a bullet scratch on them. The wound was about 5-6 centimeters long.

It was not a shallow one.

Abigail was taken aback. She never imagined that the seemingly frail Master Brandon had abs. This was truly… God’s favoritism, “Don’t you have heart disease? How did you manage to work out?”

Brandon was rather pleased that this plump woman’s first reactions upon seeing his abs. Despite his pale face, he managed a smirk, “Like it? It’s a shame I’m not interested in women who weigh 200 pounds. Bad for the heart.”

Couldn’t bear the weight.

Abigail, “…” Was that the question she asked?

“Should this 200-pound fatty call 120 and 110[Emergency phone numbers] for you?” Abigail scoffed.

“There’s a medical kit. Can you patch me up? Don’t alert grandfather.” Today was his oversight. He hadn’t expected to fall into his uncle’s trap.

“My hands are clumsy, are you sure?” Abigail was amazed at how much pain this man could endure. With such a large wound and his heart condition, he could still hold on without going to the hospital. Except for his pale face, he seemed unaffected.

“Didn’t you want to prove how exceptional you are as a doctor? Here’s your chance.” Despite asking for help, he made it seem as if he was doing her a favor.

“Alright,” Abigail laughed, “But you have to agree to one condition.”

Of course, medical treatment had to be paid for.