Divorced and Betrayed: The Billionaire's Regret

ring a familiar coat. The apartment in Wrigleyville was small: one bedroom, creaky hardwood floors, a kitchenette that smelled faintly of old coffee. But it was

they already had names in my head, even if the ultrasound hadn't confirmed genders yet. I talked to them constantly. To

ir accident was indeed Langston Tech. No direct proof of foul play, but enough smoke to make me walk away. Instead, I freelanced. Hard. Late nights at the kitchen table, la

marketing collateral. $18,000 upfront. I cried in the bathroom after signing the contract. Not from

ght cheap wine (for her), sparkling

g my bump as we sat on the tiny

ale who's been betrayed by h

ass. "To whales w

about the blocked numbers, the deleted voicemails, the wa

w a headline. Harrington Enterprises stoc

ed. "Let

You're not even a

can go without throwing up at 3 a.m.

. "You're gonna be the best mom. An

I raised a

But when you're ready..

st appeared t

h), finalizing the hotel proposal, when I felt eyes on me. Looked up. Across the st

He didn't move closer. Just watched. Then t

op shaking. Called M

re. In C

d. "How do

e café. Didn't appro

if he contacts you. But right now, no crime.

Sat on the floor with my back

d-hard, like th

" I whispered.

on the couch, laptop open, working until dawn. Poured the fear in

ghost cam

unknown sender.

enthouse, the night I left. Wedding ring on the dresser b

keeps it. Thinks a

name. No

k. He traced it-burne

rena. Could be someone else entirely. B

ed my email. My pho

osts kept

ace. White roses. Same as before. Card: Congratula

over with a smile. I stared a

utside. Dropped them in. Watc

sk, I opened

gns – Exp

ire a junior

office space. Rive

uild somethin

'd kept from New York. Emails. Transfers. Offshore accounts

't. No

owing

was p

o ghost co