Greyson

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Romance Crime Revenge Pregnancy Enemies to Lovers Pregnancy Personal Growth

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ANASTASIA POV

"Happy birthday, Ana," Bianca says from across me. "Maybe this year you can finally get your hands on some hot man in finance." She giggles, drunk out of her mind.

I shake my head at her, my head spinning, my eyes moving across the crowd of club-goers. Today is my birthday, and by tomorrow my dad is finally allowing me to be his chief finance officer.

"A dream come true," I whisper, downing the last of my drink.

"What?" Bianca lifts a brow in my direction, slowly bobbing her head to the music, her eyes glazed over with champagne.

"I have to use the bathroom," I yell back at her, pushing the stool back unsteadily.

She nods, flinging out two fingers. She points them at me and then back at her eyes, making me laugh.

I nod back at her, moving through the string of people, when the music abruptly stops, and the lights turn into a deep blue, plunging the room into mid-darkness.

I turn around the crowd, and I pause, disoriented from the sudden interruption.

My eyes move to the ceiling. Suddenly, the crowd disperses from the door, and people pull away in awe and fear, disclosing only my form in the middle, the lights reflecting down at me.

I gasp, holding my breath, as a male figure moves toward my still form.

The strong scent of his perfume whiffs into my nose as he passes by.

His face is covered by an old, classy hat, and his eyes are turned away from me, but I can catch his side profile.

Strong jawline and lips that make me breathless. I stumble on the floor, the entire room erupting in a gasp, but the attention is quickly taken off me when the music turns back on, and the gap simply closes like I was never there.

I tumble on the floor as people surround me, but fingers grip mine, pulling me out from the crowd.

I look up, and my eyes settle on a blonde man who walked in with the mystery man.

"Are you good?" he lifts a brow at me, concern on his face.

I choke, breathless. "Yes, I'm fine," I whisper, shaking my head as his form turns slightly blurry, still drunk from the lines of champagne Bianca and I have been gouging on all night.

"Rafaelle!" I hear a sharp voice to the right. He calls out his name swiftly, and his head rises.

My eyes meet with his bright blue eyes. His hair falls over his forehead as he fixes his hat on his head properly.

My heart pounds in my chest at the look in his eyes. He narrows his blue eyes at me, and they move across my form, sliding across my heels, down to my oil-glowing legs, which are covered slightly by the short golden dress Bianca fixed me in for my birthday celebration.

His eyes land on my face, but he swiftly pulls them away and turns to the man he called Rafaelle.

"I will be inside," he says, fixing his hands in his pockets. His long legs cross the floorboards, and he disappears into a back room.

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