TOP UP

Reading History

Sign out

Get the APP

I Want to Eat Your Pancreas epub vk download

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Modern Parenting Ex-wife Drama

Download the Book on the App

Daisy's POV

"So you trust your boyfriend? Why don't you pay him a visit at Turner Mansion?"

That was all the message said. And like a moth drawn to a flame, I found myself speeding toward Turner Mansion.

I had tried calling the strange number repeatedly-each attempt ending in silence.

As I stood before the gates, part of me wanted to turn back, dismissing it as a cruel prank. But another part of me wondered-what if?

What if stepping into that mansion meant discovering the truth? Was I even ready for it?

The only way to put my mind at peace was to face it head-on, regardless of the pain it might bring.

As I neared the entrance, I noticed Trey's car parked outside.

"When did they get so close to the point where they visit each other without telling me?" I thought out loud.

I decided to call him, hoping to hear the truth from him before making any assumptions.

The call rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey, babe," he whispered.

I frowned. "Hey. Why are you whispering? Are you okay?" My voice was filled with concern.

"Oh, yes. I just caught a cold, and it's messing with my throat."

"Oh, baby, should I bring some soup over?"

"Not right now, babe. Let me rest for a while first."

"Are you home?" I asked, my breathing uneven.

"Where else would I be?"

Silence.

I entered the gate with my face scan and pushed the door open. Stepping inside, my heart pounded in my chest. My steps were slow and hesitant, unsure whether I had the courage to face what lay beyond.

The closer I got, the louder the moans became.

My stomach clenched.

When I reached the door, I peeked inside.

And my entire world shattered.

Trey and Anna.

Entwined together.

Tears streamed down my face as my legs buckled beneath me. I gripped the doorframe to stay upright. The room spun-breathe, breathe-but the air reeked of their sin.

I barged in, swinging the door open.

"Trey?!"

The name burned my tongue as I took in the sight before me.

My breath caught in my throat. My pulse pounded.

No. This can't be real.

But it was.

My boyfriend, Trey, and my stepmother, Anna-naked, tangled in bed together.

My heart stopped. Then it raced.

My stomach twisted, forcing me to move uncontrollably around the room. The air was thick with an awful mix of scents-the sharp, metallic tang of sweat, the faint trace of Anna's perfume, and the heavy musk of Trey's cologne. The same cologne I used to love.

Anna gasped, hurriedly yanking the duvet over herself.

But the damage was already done-I had seen everything. What was the point of hiding now?

I looked at her, unable to utter a word. Then my gaze shifted to him.

Trey stumbled off the bed, struggling to pull his pants on. His hands shook, and his face turned pale.

"Daisy, I can explain!" His voice cracked as he stepped forward, reaching for me like I was something fragile.

Did he honestly think I would move toward him?

"I thought you were home and had a cold," I said, letting out a sharp, cold laugh.

Not the reaction they were expecting.

They looked at each other, trying so hard not to meet my betrayed eyes.

I shook my head, pacing the room before turning back to them. "Oh, this is the part where you tell me it's not what it looks like, right?"

Trey's lips parted, but no words came out. What could he say?

Finally, he stammered, "Babe, it was the devil's work! She seduced me!"