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Divorced Wife's Secret Twins: Billionaire's Regret

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 892    |    Released on: Today at 15:13

nt slammed shut. The heavy deadbolt sl

concrete. The single fluorescent tube overhead flickered, castin

a filthy, torn leath

dull, throbbing ache from the doorframe collision was spr

ag. She dug out a small blister pack

no water

nto her mouth, and swallowed hard. The dry chalk scraped d

the ceiling kicked on. The deafening roar shook

her chest. She curled into a tight ball on the so

her nails digging into her o

ally kicked in. The cramping in her st

ll back against the so

encrypted burner phone be

e security camera in the corner. The red light w

hone out and hit

in rapid, fluent French. "We have a massive problem. The At

eak, exhausted woman vanished

ench accent flawless, he

s voice shaking. "They bought the judge.

into dangerous slits.

to the public light and hand over the core design p

ark laugh. It was the l

o capital," sh

e liquid cash, and she needed it now. She had to fund the

uidate my hidden bonds in the Swiss account

through the underground parking garage. Mr

ll stopped walking. He stood right over the me

d the deafening roar of the fan made it imp

ruthless cadence-so entirely different from the meek, submissive ass

ned to pitch black. A sharp spike of

The way she didn't care about the five mi

e. "Pull Aubree Daniels' communication lo

just a gold digger. She's selling our voi

the call. She slipped the phone bac

ff her skirt. The fear wa

groaned. It swung open violen

ight backlit his massive frame, making him

anning the dusty room, looking for a laptop

thump, but her face remai

easure, Mr. President?"

nothing in the room. He looked down at

e spy in my building, you are dead

s murderous eyes. She let o

about to be fired, Ell. I do

ack her skin to see her secrets. He

d and wa

dark, her hands curl

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Divorced Wife's Secret Twins: Billionaire's Regret
Divorced Wife's Secret Twins: Billionaire's Regret
“I discovered I was pregnant with twins from my marriage to Ell Steele, the ruthless CEO of the Steele Group. But he saw me as a gold-digging nobody, unworthy of his heir. He stormed into our penthouse with his lawyer, slamming down abortion consent forms and a divorce NDA, offering five million to terminate and vanish. "You're not fit to carry my child," he spat, gripping my jaw. I refused the abortion, signed the zero-payout divorce to keep my company insurance for my dying mom's ICU bills, but stayed on as an admin assistant. Brittany, his mistress, spilled coffee on my reports, got me demoted to the dusty sub-basement sorting old files. She framed me for attacking her, security dragged me out, slamming me into doorframes that cramped my belly. Trapped in a sabotaged freight elevator, I nearly miscarried in the dark, gasping for air while Ell rescued me-only to find my prenatal pills and rage. At the gala, I warned Brittany the Angel's Tears necklace-Georgina's flawed design-was cracking. She accused me of theft; Ell ordered me stripped and searched publicly. It snapped anyway, shattering the diamond, but he blamed me, firing and blacklisting me on the spot. Beaten down, humiliated, body aching from their cruelty-how could my husband, who I once loved, destroy me without a shred of doubt? What made him so blind to my pain? Dragged from our home in the rain, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up. The butler bowed: "Madame Aura, your suite awaits." As Ell watched from his Maybach, I initiated the hostile takeover-time to bankrupt them all.”