My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

Chapter 7

Word Count: 659 | Released on: Today at 10:13

nue, the massive construction site of the new Morgan commercial complex loomed, a stark steel-and-glass r

ook what the r

made the hair on the bac

rned a

white cashmere coat and holding a Birkin bag. She looke

dly, ensuring the people in line heard her. "Do you still

nor, shielding him from Taryn's view. She didn'

ored. She stepped closer, her eyes darting t

u," Taryn hissed. "Does he know his mother

d react, Connor l

l feet firmly on the pavement. He threw his arms

oice ringing clear across the plaza. "You're a mean, ugly wit

in the crow

r outrage. Her face contorte

ond on her finger catching the sunlig

throwing herself for

slap nev

rom the crowd, wrapping around Tar

ntum sto

black tailored overcoat. His face wa

ist with a look of utter disgust. Taryn stum

ubbing her wrist. "That

't even lo

ere locked enti

clenched, glaring up at the giant

boy. His breath hi

wenty-five years ago. The stubborn set of the jaw, t

ght through his heart. It defied all logic. He ha

yle felt an overwhelming,

oyle slowly crouched down until

ard into a rare, genuine smirk. "You've g

d Connor by the shoulders and yanked him back again

. He looked at Erika,

nd nearby. He pulled out a black Amex card and pointed to the large

ld the glittering ice

Erika froze, her mi

Chapter End

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My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

Souza Souza Billionaires

“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."”