The Billionaire's Unwanted Heir

Name: The Billionaire's Unwanted Heir
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Billionaires | Completed

5.0

Comment(s)

507

View

Chapters

For five long years, my sister Meg and I lived in Ryan Sterling's opulent mansion, a "gilded cage" disguised as an act of kindness after our accident. My days were consumed by caring for his demanding son, Kyler, while my musical dreams lay dormant, my face forever marked. One morning, Kyler, with a malicious smirk, deliberately scalded my guitar hand with scorching coffee. But a far colder burn came moments later: I was six weeks pregnant with Ryan's baby. His chilling words, delivered with flat precision, demanded: "An abortion, Ellie. It's the only way." My hand blistered, a constant ache, yet it was dwarfed by his casual dismissal of our unborn child as a mere "complication." He spoke of my "damaged" and "dependent" state, his tone echoing the pervasive control that had suffocated us for five years. How could the man who once seemed captivated by my music now strip me of all humanity, reducing my life, my body, and my child to inconvenient problems? This callous disregard, this profound sense of injustice, was the final, devastating cut to my soul. But in that instant, a desperate resolve ignited within me. I would not bring my beloved child into such a cold, demeaning existence, nor would I let her witness my own subjugation. Clasping my still-blistering hand, now a symbol of their cruelty and my newfound defiance, I looked Ryan in the eye and declared, voice trembling but firm: "Meg and I are leaving."

Family Modern Female-centered Divorce Personal growth

Chapter 10

10-31 15:16

Introduction

One morning, Kyler, with a malicious smirk, deliberately scalded my guitar hand with scorching coffee. But a far colder burn came moments later: I was six weeks pregnant with Ryan's baby. His chilling words, delivered with flat precision, demanded: "An abortion, Ellie. It's the only way."

My hand blistered, a constant ache, yet it was dwarfed by his casual dismissal of our unborn child as a mere "complication." He spoke of my "damaged" and "dependent" state, his tone echoing the pervasive control that had suffocated us for five years.

How could the man who once seemed captivated by my music now strip me of all humanity, reducing my life, my body, and my child to inconvenient problems? This callous disregard, this profound sense of injustice, was the final, devastating cut to my soul.

But in that instant, a desperate resolve ignited within me. I would not bring my beloved child into such a cold, demeaning existence, nor would I let her witness my own subjugation. Clasping my still-blistering hand, now a symbol of their cruelty and my newfound defiance, I looked Ryan in the eye and declared, voice trembling but firm: "Meg and I are leaving."