Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife-Chapter 930: Life is Too Bitter, Eat More Sweets

Here is the line-by-line translation of the Chinese novel excerpt you provided:

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On New Year’s Eve, the buzz surrounding Duke Blue finally got blown away by the Spring Festival Gala.

While the online heat was gradually fading, the impact on Duke Blue’s real life had only just begun to show.

His large online fan groups were all disbanded, his invitation to attend a regional TV gala was revoked, the photo shoots for several magazines scheduled after the holidays were canceled, and brands he had endorsed earlier sent termination letters one by one.

Once a blazing future star, he had abruptly turned into a rat that everyone wanted to strike down.

Duke Blue shrank into his room, with all his phones turned off, sinking into a frightening gloom. Ace, uneasy, asked timidly, "Young Master Duke, what should we do now?"

"What to do? What to do? How the f*** am I supposed to know what to do?" Upon hearing Ace’s words, Duke Blue smashed the wine bottle in his hand. That morning, he had received a call from the company’s director demanding him to pay compensation to the brands per contract. The series of penalties added up to ten million—where on earth was he supposed to find ten million?

When he was raking in money, everyone was happy to join in. Now that something had gone wrong, everyone avoided him as if he were the plague. Where could he get that kind of money, especially when he couldn’t go outside? Those reporters were acting like lunatics, and even on New Year’s Eve, they didn’t give him a break.

Ace stepped back in fright upon hearing the shattering of the wine bottle. He didn’t dare to approach anymore, but there was no trace of fear or flattery in his eyes as before. Instead, he boldly suggested, "Young Master Duke, don’t you still have Miss Leigh? Why not contact her?"

Duke Blue’s dim eyes suddenly lit up. How could he have forgotten about Charlotte Leigh? If it weren’t for being deceived by that woman, how would he have ended up making one wrong step after another?

Now that he had been reduced to having nothing, there was no way that woman should live well.

Thinking about this, a shadowy cold smile crept across Duke Blue’s defeated face. He turned his phone back on and dialed Charlotte Leigh.

Unfortunately, he called several times, but she didn’t pick up. On the last attempt, she directly added him to her blacklist. Her intentions couldn’t be clearer. But Duke Blue couldn’t accept it. He, someone with boundless potential, had been ruined by her. Now, she wanted to sever ties? Not a chance.

Listening to the mechanical female voice from the phone, Duke Blue opened another phone. This time, he didn’t bother calling; instead, he swiftly sent over a few pictures to her.

Before long, Duke Blue’s phone rang.

Charlotte Leigh sounded furious, "Duke Blue, what do you mean by this?"

"What do I mean? If it weren’t for you, bitch, ruining me, how would I have ended up like this? Now that I’ve hit rock bottom, you’re hiding from me? When you sought me out for cooperation, you didn’t have this attitude!" Duke Blue spat venomously, his tone aggressive, as if ready to drag her down with him.

Charlotte Leigh shivered and softened her tone. "Young Master Duke, calm down. It’s true I approached you first for cooperation, but I never told you to cut corners on a variety show, lose control in front of your fans, and have it all recorded. Be reasonable here."

"Ha! So you’re saying it’s all my fault, that I deserved all of this, huh?" Duke Blue was seething. Did she think he was an idiot? If he hadn’t agreed to work with her and provoke Mary Scott, Director Locke wouldn’t have targeted him, leading to the exposure of a series of incidents.

Yet this woman dared to claim that everything was his own doing and that he deserved it, washing her hands clean as though she had nothing to do with it!

Duke Blue licked his lips maliciously and, hearing Charlotte Leigh attempt another excuse, sneered coldly, "You’re right. It’s all my fault. How about this—you transfer three million to me, and I’ll accept that it’s all on me."

"What?" Charlotte Leigh shouted in disbelief and sprang to her feet. "Duke Blue, don’t be ridiculous! Do you think three million is like cabbages—it’s there whenever you ask for it?"

Although they worked in the entertainment industry and earned a lot, they spent a lot too. Especially Charlotte Leigh, with a low profit-sharing ratio with her company and her extravagant spending habits. Forget three million; she didn’t even have a million!

Duke Blue’s expression grew darker, like a snake stretching its neck in a damp environment, chillingly warning her, "Three million is quite a bit, but buying your acting career isn’t too expensive, is it?"

"You..." Charlotte Leigh wanted to refute him, but recalling the images Duke Blue had just sent her, she felt a mix of hatred and regret. The curse on her lips turned into a plea, "Can’t you lower the amount? I truly don’t have three million."

Seeing Charlotte Leigh relent, Duke Blue didn’t push her too hard. It was tough for him to make ends meet in the industry now. Faced with massive compensation liabilities and no income, Charlotte Leigh was a decent cash cow. He couldn’t cut off the source entirely, so he softened his tone, "Well, it could be negotiable..."

Charlotte Leigh quietly let out a sigh of relief, though she knew full well that if she didn’t resolve Duke Blue soon, with his nature, he’d keep pestering her endlessly.

But before that, she still needed Duke Blue to do something for her.

Thinking about what she had bought from Reporter Emerson, Charlotte Leigh’s smile turned colder and more malicious than Duke Blue’s. This time, she vowed to destroy Mary Scott.

She wants to steal her resources? Position? Dream on!

So she married David Locke? If the man found out about Mary Scott’s past and her filthy background, would he still protect her like he was doing now?

Charlotte Leigh didn’t believe any man could truly love a woman like Mary Scott without any reservations!

...

On New Year’s Eve morning, Mary Scott, her siblings, and David Locke went out to shop for the holiday.

Their driver and assistants were given time off for the holiday, so Alfred Scott handled the driving.

By the year’s end, Swallow City shed its usual hustle and bustle, and the city exuded a rare and serene stillness.

Alfred steered the car toward the largest supermarket in the city, where they finally felt some lively vibes.

Getting out of the car, Mary Scott took the place of their assistant and pushed David Locke’s wheelchair. Both of them wore matching bucket hats and masks, bundled up in thick down jackets. Their tightly wrapped appearances kept them from being recognized, and Mary gradually relaxed.

Though Mary had entered the entertainment industry after returning to the country, she didn’t enjoy being in the limelight or surrounded by crowds. If possible, she preferred acting quietly—not just because she wasn’t used to it, but because she always felt unworthy.

With every bit of admiration she received, her guilt would grow. In contrast, being vilified online earlier had actually made her feel safer.

Deep down, she always believed that kind of treatment was what she deserved.

"Wow, Sis, awesome!" Just as Mary Scott was lost in thought while pushing David Locke, Alfred exclaimed excitedly behind her.

Mary was startled, quickly looking around in panic to ensure no one was paying attention. She shot a glare at her younger brother, "You nearly scared me to death."

"Relax. Didn’t you notice today’s shoppers are all elderly folk? No one’s going to recognize you." Alfred Scott, who seldom stepped outside due to his illness, was visibly thrilled to shop for the first time in ages.

Mary glanced around after hearing his words and found he was right. Likely because it was New Year’s Eve, the mall was mostly filled with old-timers shopping for bargains. The common-life atmosphere further eased her nerves, and she nodded at her brother, "Fine then."

But just as she reluctantly agreed, Mary suddenly became animated. "Wait, what did you just say?"

Alfred pointed to a candy shop not far from the mall, earning himself a teasing glare from Mary. "How old are you to still love candy?"

"Like you don’t," Alfred shot back disdainfully before dashing toward the candy shop.

Mary pushed David Locke and followed quickly.

Watching the vibrant Alfred, David glanced at the bright-eyed woman beside him. He remembered that Moll used to dislike sweets—but now she seemed to have developed a craving for them as an actress?

Mary felt David’s gaze and responded with deliberate wisdom, "Life is bitter; you need sweetness to balance it out."

David stopped in his tracks, taken aback. Mary seemed to be teasing seriously, yet her words didn’t carry the humor of a joke. His heart clenched slightly. "Let’s go too."

When he said that, Mary’s pace quickened noticeably.

But when they arrived at the candy shop, neither Mary nor Alfred indulged excessively. Instead, they kept comparing prices, acting so frugal that David found himself a bit out of sync. While the store clerk wasn’t watching, he leaned over and asked Mary, "I don’t recall incorrectly—your ’Wilderness’ fee wasn’t small, and the Raspberry Snacks endorsement payment was already received, wasn’t it? There’s no need to be so thrifty."

David used "thrifty" with extreme restraint.

Mary and Alfred froze momentarily, then gave him identical looks filled with disdain. "This is called knowing how to manage life—you wouldn’t understand," they retorted simultaneously.

They then turned back to the store clerk to ask about discounts and bundles.

David pressed his temples, took out a black card from his jacket pocket, and said, "Today, I’ll pay."

The siblings turned suddenly, letting out synchronized cheers. Then, before David could say more, Mary naturally snatched his card and made sure to thank him.

As for Alfred, he chimed in mischievously, "We’re spending New Year’s at his place anyway—it’s only fair he covers this."

Mary nodded solemnly, "You’re right, little brother."

David suddenly regretted his decision, feeling like he had just fallen into a trap set by the siblings.

What followed was the pair’s uninhibited spree—from the vegetable section to the seafood area, then to the fruit section, exploring with freshness and excitement like people who hadn’t been to a supermarket in ages. By the end, they even bought a double-flavor hot pot.

David pushed his wheelchair by himself, his face full of helplessness. At one point, after a sigh, Mary handed him a large cabbage, and Moll dumped all the heavy items onto his wheelchair.

So, the revered director ended up being the siblings’ porter, sitting in his wheelchair laden with groceries. If his assistants saw him, they’d definitely praise how Director Locke was "disabled yet determined."

When checking out, the items amassed to a sum that nearly blocked David’s vision. Seeing the siblings so joyful, he was both annoyed and amused, unable to hide his inner satisfaction.

He hadn’t felt such ease in a long time.

The bill came to 3,200 in total. David, surprised, eyed the mountainous pile of groceries. Before he could ask why it seemed so cheap, he noticed Mary and Alfred’s regretful expressions—completely visible even under their masks. For a split second, he was speechless. How exactly had these two been living beforehand?

"You’re using my card—what’s there for you to feel unworthy about?" David asked dryly.

The siblings snapped out of it, hurriedly handing over David’s card.

During the unloading, Alfred showed unusual enthusiasm. David felt comforted, thinking the boy was finally showing gratitude. However, after getting into the car, he heard Alfred praise genuinely, "Haven’t bought so much in one go for a while—it feels amazing!"

Mary nodded. "When I’ve got money in the future, I’ll take you shopping too."

David thought, "..."

Knowing Mary had just been paid a million, he couldn’t believe she acted as though she was dirt-poor.

Back at the villa, Mary and Alfred organized the ingredients, while David handled work in the living room. During this time, Mary’s phone, which had been left outside, suddenly rang.

"Whose call is it?" Mary stuck her head out from the kitchen, with gloves on her hands while dealing with shrimp. The three of them had average cooking skills, so they unanimously decided to have hot pot for New Year’s Eve.

David glanced at the phone showing an unknown number. "No saved contact."

"Probably a job offer. You can decline it for me if you think it’s necessary," Mary replied without pausing her task for a moment.

David glanced at the petite woman handling shrimp, her milky-white neck exposed beautifully as if lit under soft lights, and replied with a faint "Sure" before answering the call on her behalf.

"Moll, it’s me." A clear, familiar male voice came from the other end, and David’s hand stopped mid-motion. The man called Mary "Moll," indicating familiarity—but what kind of familiarity warranted such closeness, saying "Moll, it’s me"?

In the flash of a moment, David had a guess.

"Moll?" Seeing the lack of response, the caller repeated the name softly.

David’s gaze regained clarity, and he spoke coldly and sharply, "I’m Mary Scott’s husband. Who are you?"

The person on the other end paused for a noticeable moment before repeating, "Husband?"

"Yes."

"Can you have Mary take the call?" The caller quickly adjusted and politely requested, but David, astutely sensing hesitation, spoke even icier, "Apologies, she’s unavailable right now."

With that, David decisively hung up, turned to look at the focused Mary handling shrimp.

Mary, sensing his gaze, asked, "What is it? Not work-related after all?"

"Just a marketing call," David replied without missing a beat. He then promptly erased the call log and blocked the number.

Mary, too absorbed in her task, didn’t notice a thing; she simply sighed to herself, amazed at how dedicated salespeople were—even on New Year’s Eve.

Two hours later, the trio sat at the dining table.

The table was laden with ingredients—vegetables, beef, lamb, seafood, and meatballs—a feast. Given David’s injured leg, Mary had specially followed online tutorials to make him a broth with pork bones and fresh mushrooms, adding corn and a few wolfberries for a touch of wellness.

David looked at his bland three-flavor broth, then at the bubbling spicy beef pot nearby, growing increasingly annoyed. His leg injury was far from a severe fracture; emboldened, he reached for the spicy pot with his chopsticks—only to have Mary swat them away sharply. "You’re aware of your condition, aren’t you? Eat this. I took great care in preparing the nutritious broth for you."

Trying to indulge on a holiday, the director found himself cornered. He wasn’t even thirty; who needed wellness?

Unfortunately, Mary was determined to keep him away from the spicy pot. Even Alfred joined forces with her. The siblings teased him while watching the Spring Festival Gala, full of happiness. Poor Director Locke, nursing a sterile broth while his sleek, slightly roguish face bore a rare look of grievance.

Mary enjoyed this sight immensely, happily piling more food onto his plate. Alfred, not one to hold back, joined in, too.

The trio gathered around the hot pot, while the TV showcased the rising star Brian Joule. Occasionally, fireworks outside the floor-to-ceiling window lit up the scene. David glanced at the siblings beside him, and the corners of his lips curled up further and further.

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