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Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Devlen Giovannucci

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

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Note: This book contains a blend of first person POV and third person pov.

Chapter 1 : A knife to the heart

Richard's snarl cut through the silence of the study. "Sign the damn divorce papers, Aurora."

A faint, cold smirk touched my lips. Did he truly think I was that much of a fool?

"You think I'll grant you the privilege of spending my father's wealth on your mistress?"My voice was as sharp as a shard of glass. "I'm not signing a thing."

A deadly glare burned in his eyes, his face a mask of pure rage. "You stubborn bitch. To hell with you!" he thundered, storming out and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

The moment he was gone, the strength drained from my body. I slumped onto the couch, heaving a sigh that felt like it carried the weight of the last five years. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to fall.

Five years. Five years of a marriage I never wanted, a final promise to my father, before he passed. And in some foolish, hidden corner of my heart, I'd begun to feel something for this man. But Richard had only ever been a ghost in our home, draining the company accounts to fund his affairs. He never offered a kind word, never pretended to love me. Why would he? He didn't.

And now he wanted a divorce? He wanted to legitimize his theft and parade his whores on my father's fortune? I wouldn't give him the pleasure.

I snatched my keys from the table. I needed a drink, something strong enough to burn the memory of his voice from my mind. It was my only coping mechanism.

The bar was a blur of fluorescent lights and the dizzying hum of strangers' laughter. I slid onto a stool. "Tequila. Neat," I told the bartender. The glass was cold in my hand. I threw it back in one searing gulp, but it did nothing to silence the echo of Richard's words.

My grip tightened on the empty glass. Why couldn't he just love me? What did I ever do to deserve such hatred?

"Hey there, mademoiselle." A voice sliced through my thoughts.

I turned to see a tall man with a thick beard, a cocky smile plastered on his round face.

"Hey,"I replied flatly, signaling the bartender for another drink.

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