I' m Sarah Miller, a Grammy-winning music producer who prefers the quiet of a studio. But tonight, I was enduring a club after-party for my stepson Alex, a talented musician I cherished like my own. I also harbored a secret: I was twelve weeks pregnant with our miracle IVF baby, cherished by my husband, the tech billionaire Michael Thorne. Suddenly, Alex' s pop-star girlfriend, Jessi Vance, descended, eyes blazing for the cameras. "She's trying to get close to Alex!" she shrieked, pulling him in a staged outburst. "An older woman, trying to steal my boyfriend!" she screamed, shoving me hard. The online world exploded, branding me a cougar, a predator. Days later, Jessi tracked me to my studio sanctuary, her fake tears gone, replaced by pure rage. "You think you can ruin my life and get away with it?" she screamed, lunging. She pushed me violently, sending me stumbling backward into a console. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. I crumpled, gasping, clutching myself. Not now. Please, not now. "I' m pregnant," I whispered, barely audible, as the precious life Michael and I had fought for, year after agonizing year, was slipping away. How could this manipulative child' s public stunt and physical assault cost me everything? Just when despair threatened to overwhelm me, the studio doors burst open. Michael Thorne, my husband, strode in, his gaze ice-cold. "This woman," he declared, his voice cutting through the silence, "is my wife." The narrative didn't just flip; it shattered.
I' m Sarah Miller, a Grammy-winning music producer who prefers the quiet of a studio.
But tonight, I was enduring a club after-party for my stepson Alex, a talented musician I cherished like my own.
I also harbored a secret: I was twelve weeks pregnant with our miracle IVF baby, cherished by my husband, the tech billionaire Michael Thorne.
Suddenly, Alex' s pop-star girlfriend, Jessi Vance, descended, eyes blazing for the cameras.
"She's trying to get close to Alex!" she shrieked, pulling him in a staged outburst.
"An older woman, trying to steal my boyfriend!" she screamed, shoving me hard.
The online world exploded, branding me a cougar, a predator.
Days later, Jessi tracked me to my studio sanctuary, her fake tears gone, replaced by pure rage.
"You think you can ruin my life and get away with it?" she screamed, lunging.
She pushed me violently, sending me stumbling backward into a console.
A searing pain shot through my abdomen.
I crumpled, gasping, clutching myself. Not now. Please, not now.
"I' m pregnant," I whispered, barely audible, as the precious life Michael and I had fought for, year after agonizing year, was slipping away.
How could this manipulative child' s public stunt and physical assault cost me everything?
Just when despair threatened to overwhelm me, the studio doors burst open.
Michael Thorne, my husband, strode in, his gaze ice-cold.
"This woman," he declared, his voice cutting through the silence, "is my wife."
The narrative didn't just flip; it shattered.
Other books by Gavin
More