undefined

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

Download the Book on the App

When Olivia White came to her senses, she found herself wrapped in a blanket naked.

Feeling parched and weak, she knew she had been drugged.

When she looked around, she spotted a surprisingly large mirror right in front of her and a camera at the bedside.

Her heart convulsing, Olivia vaguely understood what was going on here.

As the effect of the drug kicked in, Olivia gritted her teeth to remain conscious. No, if that kind of video was shot, her life would be ruined.

There was no time for her to figure out the plotter. She struggled to get off the bed. Fortunately, the other party didn't anticipate her remaining strength and left the door unlocked.

During her work, Olivia was knocked unconscious and sent to this floor. With no clothes on, she had to wrap herself in the thin blanket and escape on bare feet. In case people would recognize her, she deliberately ruffled her hair, messed up her heavy makeup, and walked in the dark.

This clubhouse boasted abundant female and male prostitutes. The signs hanging outside the rooms stood for availability tonight. Blue signs represented men and pink women.

Olivia didn't really have the time to go to the hospital. Gritting her teeth, she made up her mind and searched the rooms with blue signs one by one.

Unfortunately, not a single soul could be found.

In desperation, she pushed open the last room at the end of the corridor. To her surprise, she found a man sitting by the window.

He turned back at the sound.

Despite the dim light, Olivia could still feel the man's sculpted features and lean figure. A perfect target.

"100 yuan for one night. What do you say?" She got straight to the point in a hoarse voice.

Ignorant of the price, she could only offer that much.

The man frowned unhappily and darted a cold look at her. Regardless of that, Olivia had to make do at such a critical moment!

She strode to the man.

"Get out." Vincent Barton opened his lips, his voice icy cold.

Read Now