Broken Wife, Billionaire Husband's Vengeance

shed me in my own penthouse, their eyes

ed me of trying to steal their inheritance

us kick to my stomach ended everything. I felt the life ins

honor." My desperate pleas that the baby's father was the

an' t have kids!

iah. My husband. The look on his face as he saw me, bleeding and broken, and understood what they had done to ou

pte

k that echoed in the penthouse's high ceilings. My head snapped back, a dizzying jolt running through my body

, once familiar, were now burning with a hatred I barely recognized. "You think you can

on the polished marble floor. Her smile was a cruel twist, a predatory gleam in her ey

ricate web of my father's will, the trust, the anonymity of the donor... none of it was about stealing. It was about preservin

ther of you earned? You squandered every opportunity Dad gave you, Brooks. And you, Jazmyne, you've just been riding his coattails, waiting for a handout

et pregnant by some anonymous donor to secure your place. While I, I was always there, supporting Brooks, building our future." Her words were laced with venom, dripping with

'fighting'? Don't make me pull up those embarrassing news reports, Jazmyne. Or the rumors about how you charmed your

to turn you against me. She' s always been like this, trying to isolate you." Her voice dropped to a whimper, feigning vulnerability.

ust anonymous to the world; he was a very real, very powerful figure in my life. A secret my father had orchestrated, meticulously pl

g my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You dirty little whore! How dare you disrespect Jazmyne? How

ars exploding behind my eyes. A wave of nausea washed over me, but it was the sharp, cramping pai

breath reeked of stale alcohol and cheap ambition. "Get o

drunken despair after his second divorce, had publicly disinherited me, calling me a "cold, unfeeling businesswoman" compared to his reckless but "passionate" so

se very name commanded respect and fear. He had been my father's closest friend, his most trusted confidante. After my father' s death, when I was struggling to k

the phone, "your father made a pact with me. A

legal framework. He guarded his privacy fiercely, and I knew his reputation alone, let alone his fury, would crush Brooks and Jazmyne i

arely audible. "Just... leave. Get out of my penthouse. And I won't call the police. I won't involv

Brooks and trying to steal our inheritance? Brooks, she's playing you. She always does." Her e

expensive stiletto dug into my side, a sharp, agonizing stab that made me cr

aughing his ass off, watching you desperately cling to a company that's meant for me." He kicked my leg, a dull ache spre

head and belly. "You're so deluded, Brooks. So utterly convinced of your own importance. You think this company, this legacy, is yours by right? You think you still

h, honey, that's rich. You and your little incubator project think

sence. "She's right. I am the sole heir. The true Sullivan. You're j

and deliberate. "No," I whispered, though my voice resonated with an unexpected strength. "T

at bastard? That anonymous mistake? You think that thing has more claim than me, the legitimate s

e blow sent me flying backward, slamming me to the floor. An excruciating, white-hot pain ripped through me,

ield the life within. Blood. So much blood. It bloomed rapidly on my light grey dress, a crimson stain spreading a

eir faces. The pure, unadulterated malice in their eyes. They weren't just angry; they we

air. "You don't understand. He's not... he's not just

ords, cutting off the desperate truth th