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My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 672    |    Released on: Today at 10:13

of fury and something darker,

sliding down from her throat, moving aggressivel

n, he felt the unnatural stiffness of her muscle

s hand

lic scent in the air. He realized instantly

It was replaced by a sharp, involuntary flash of pani

gan never sho

ly, twisting his features int

d a hot stove. He took a massive step away fr

wn the wall, hitting the floor. She wrapped her arms around her stoma

the breast pocket of his suit jacket a

ely, he began to

locked on Erika, making sure she saw

ilk drop from his fingers. It landed on

digging so hard into her palms they drew b

over," Doyle said, his voice retur

ed up, her

department," Doyle declared. "You'll be cleaning the toi

"You can't do that. It

gh. "I own the building. I own t

out quitting, I will personally ensure you are blacklisted from every company in this

shattered the last

of her eyes, replaced by

craved. Instead, a hollow ache opened up in his chest. He c

heel and marched

room. She heard the front door open, and then s

hat followed

violently as the sobs finally tore free from her throa

he bed. Connor kicked his

e wiped her face franticall

wobbled, but she walked to the bed and ge

silk handkerchief from the floor,

cold, and stepped under the spray fully clothed. She scrubbed her skin

not let hi

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My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage
My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage
“Erika was a disgraced ex-wife, struggling to survive in a freezing Brooklyn slum to raise her five-year-old son. But her billionaire ex-husband, Doyle Morgan, wasn't done destroying her. He orchestrated a cruel trap, forcing her to deliver a custom sapphire brooch to his new mistress, just to watch her get humiliated and severely burned by scalding coffee. When Erika fought back and refused to beg, Doyle's punishment was swift. He demoted her to scrubbing executive toilets with raw, bleeding hands. Starved, exhausted, and pushed to the absolute brink of organ failure, she finally collapsed lifelessly in front of him in Central Park. For five years, she had endured his relentless torment and the world's mockery just to keep her child safe. Doyle despised her, convinced her son was the filthy proof of her cheating with another man. He didn't know the boy was actually the child of his deceased older brother, conceived in a dark, drugged hotel room. Why couldn't he just leave them alone to suffer in peace? But when Erika woke up in the VIP hospital ward, the nightmare took a terrifying turn. Doyle pinned her weak wrists to the mattress, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive obsession. He had figured out the truth about the boy's bloodline. "He's a Morgan. He has my family's blood in his veins, and I will not allow my nephew to be raised in a slum. If you can't care for him, I will. From this moment on, you and that boy belong to me. And you are never leaving my sight again."”