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Mr. Rhodes, Your Dead Fiancée Is Pregnant

Chapter 4

Word Count: 991 | Released on: Today at 16:35

black Phantom pulled back into the

He rarely drank past a single glass, and his temples throbbed. When Nate opened the door, Lucian d

ator bank. "Sir, Ms. Quinn is pro

job," Lucian said, his voice rough with alcohol and

and hurried int

ack down at a run, his face pa

the penthouse. Every light was on now. The housekeep

empty. Stella wasn

ago, a wide pool of dark red blood had dried against the white marble. Above it,

t the edge of the rug

eathed. Then a low, grating

ed crimson stain. "To force the wedding. She think

ng horrified, before Nate qu

way from the ta

days p

h board meetings without a break, and slept zero hours. Nobody dared mention the empty desk outside

er thought I'd see our residen

erly report. "Nate. Transfer him to

ce room went

e marble now dark brown because he had forbidden Lena to touch it. His phone buzzed. It

body scrubbed her. Flights, bank cards, tra

from four days withou

A ghost called Q. If Q wiped her trail, you could flip th

now a hacker," Lu

ort laugh. "Famous

t like a live grenade. "Sir... maybe Ms. Quinn really did have an ac

pressure was spreading behind his sternum. "Send a team upst

of his private urology office, staring at the fresh lab work in hi

ng over the sheet. "Recanalization occurs in less than one in a thousan

paper didn't shake in his hand, becaus

voice. "Sir. Our people pulled the records from Mount Sinai. Five days ago,

rted in. The address on Ms. Quinn's HR file is an empty lot

ess in the center of

got the lab repor

d to love me and ob

into his skull. She hadn't been lying. She had been carrying his chil

ho had slept in his bed for thr

Lucian stopped g

en in forty-eight hours. When his hands began to tremor, he pulled open the sideboard drawer, too

, his phone

r ID read

not quite steady, and pressed it a

ker. Not soft. Not warm. Cold enough to c

ne wen

d stood up, his eyes dropping to t

ut, his voice hoars

Chapter End

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Mr. Rhodes, Your Dead Fiancée Is Pregnant

Guo Er Billionaires

“The same hour I got my pregnancy results, someone sent me photos of my fiancé kissing his first love on the Spanish Steps. I gave him three chances anyway. At the airport, I asked him to go public. He said there was no need. At dinner, I asked him to marry me at City Hall the next morning. He said I was acting out. Then I told him I was carrying his baby. Lucian Rhodes, the richest man in New York, the man who had proposed to me on one knee a month earlier, looked at me like a stranger. "I had a vasectomy two years ago. Watching you pretend to love me is disgusting." He slammed the door. The candles went out. I sat on the marble floor in the dark and bled. A week later I came back. Red lips, a resignation letter, a miscarriage report, and two cases of cash. My half of everything he had ever spent on me. "Three years, split fifty-fifty." On my arm was my new husband. On my way out, I told Lucian the only true thing I had ever said to him. "I never faked loving you. You called that disgusting. That's the one thing I won't forgive." Then I boarded my family's private jet. An hour later, he learned who I really was: the runaway daughter of a European banking dynasty, promised from birth to a crown prince. He learned his vasectomy had failed. He was on the airstair of his own jet, about to chase me across the Atlantic, when the news broke. My plane had gone down at sea. No survivors. The world lit candles for me. He coughed up blood on the tarmac. And on a private island in the Caribbean, with his baby growing inside me, I turned off the news and finished my mango.”