Ositas Bliss
2 Published Stories
Ositas Bliss's Books and Stories
The Unexpected Surrogate for the Ruthless Billionaire
Billionaires "I loved you, Isabelle, but not anymore. Allison here is carrying my child," Morris said, his tone firm and unyielding.
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After four years of marriage without a kid, Isabelle finally took in but through IVF. On reaching her friend's apartment to break the good news, she bumped into her husband and her friend in bed, naked.
With a shattered heart, Isabelle is called back to the hospital where she is informed of the mistake during insemination. The child in her womb belongs to another man – Carlos Fernandez, the ruthless billionaire. That is, she was mistakenly injected with another man's sperms.
Also, she is informed that her husband's real was also tested but unable to initiate fertilization.
So, if Morris is impotent, whose child is Allison carrying?
Isabelle returns home only to be served with divorce papers...
What happens after the truth about Allison's pregnancy is exposed?
Will Carlos accept Isabelle when he finally fines out she's the wrong surrogate?
Find out as you keep reading. You might like
Midas Protocol: Seducing My Rival's Wife
Breenda I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers.
Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his.
"Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage.
I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions.
I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me?
Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed.