Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife

Chapter 82: How Can They Look So Similar?

Jeffrey Foster glanced at the woman sitting in the wheelchair, her face gradually cracking. Then he looked up and only saw Abigail Green’s chubby back. He murmured quietly, “Abigail, Abigail…”

Clearly, they were completely different people, but for a moment, he thought he saw Abigail.

It must have been because of the same name.

Then he pressed his lips together in a slight smile. Abigail was such a proud girl. She probably would never let her weight exceed a hundred pounds in her life.

How could he think they were similar?

But after the amusement came endless bitterness.

There was no other girl in this world as dazzling as Abigail, someone who could draw his attention so easily.

“Good afternoon, Dean Foster!”

“Hmm.” The nurse’s voice broke Jeffrey Foster’s reverie. He waved a hand, regaining his usual grace. He nodded gently, then turned and left.

The nurse who greeted him was flushed with excitement. She shouted to her colleague beside her, “Dean Foster nodded to me! He nodded to me!”

“Hmph, that’s just politeness. He does that to everyone. Did you see him spacing out just now? I think I heard him call Abigail.” Another nurse said quietly.

The previously excited nurse’s face fell, “It’s such a pity about Dr. Smith.”

“Yeah, do you think Dean Foster liked Dr. Smith?”

“Who knows? Anyway, she’s gone.”

The voices of the chatting nurses gradually faded away. Jeffrey Foster, standing by the corner, with inexplicable emotions, continued to walk back to his office.

…

Piers’ Mansion.

Abigail’s mood was terrible.

After coaxing George Piers to sleep, she fell into a dark daze.

The successive schemes of the Taylor mother and daughter, her father’s indifference, Aunt Claudia’s predicament, even Brandon Piers’s use of Teddy. Abigail told herself that these were the prices she had to pay for her rebirth.

From the moment she woke up on the delivery bed, she had been non-stop dealing with the mess Abigail Green had left behind. She had little time to think about the past, her current situation, or the strange looks from others.

But today, Jeffrey Foster’s cold and distant gaze was like the final straw that broke the camel’s back, knocking down all her confidence.

For the first time, the helplessness and confusion of her rebirth surged over her heart like a tide, overwhelming her, leaving her unable to get up for a long time.

To die and come back to life, what a fortune.

But to be reborn in the body of a 200-pound fat bitch, setting aside external factors, just this mass of fat made her constantly the subject of strangers’ scrutiny.

These days, Abigail kept telling herself that everything in front of her was temporary. Other people’s gazes could not affect her plans. But she had to admit that those looks of contempt, sympathy, and disgust made her feel offended.

This feeling reached its peak when she met Jeffrey Foster.

Looking down, Abigail pinched a thick layer of fat on her stomach. With a body fat percentage over forty percent, as a doctor, she was well aware of what her weight meant for her body.

High blood sugar was only the least of her problems. If she continued, high blood pressure, coronary heart disease, and even various cancers would follow.

Physical ailments were secondary; the mental pressure was the most torturous.

For instance, right now, Abigail.

Looking at her current body, Abigail saw not a person but piles of greasy, nauseating fat.

Bearing such a body, it was no wonder others called her a fat bitch so matter-of-factly.

If she were her old self and saw such a fat person, even if she wouldn’t say anything harsh, she would still despise their irresponsibility toward their own body from the bottom of her heart.

Now she had become what she hated most. How could Abigail not feel sad?