The Divorced Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

Chapter 3

Word Count: 821 | Released on: Today at 10:20

Brooklyn, his chest tightening with

?" Baron demanded, his voice echoing off

blink. She did

him a fraction of h

She walked with bare feet, her steps shaky but dete

reating him like a piece of

of fury shot up his spine. His autho

is large, heavy hand, aiming to grab

o the side, narrowly avoiding his gra

s of the elevator slid o

cabin. She turned around and p

still suspended in the air. His fac

y slid shut, cutting

ulders. She looked down at the bundle in her arms. She lowered her

rs opened to the bustling ma

e baby with one arm, her black si

Patients in the waiting area turned their heads

olving doors. She pushed through them and step

the heat hit

g, mechanical roar r

alk beneath her fe

ple gasped and rushed

armored Cadillac Escalades tore around the co

air. The convoy slammed on their brakes, perfectly blocking

curity guards froze on the steps, their hands hoverin

ade, a custom midnight-blue Roll

lack tactical gear, wearing earpieces and dark sunglasses, poured out.

Rolls-Royce was pul

bespoke three-piece suit, his gold-

ooklyn. The coldness in his gaze melted insta

tactical guards shoved the gawking cro

it jacket. The fabric was still warm from his body h

ully took the sleeping b

ered, his voice thick with

ut she nodded. She pulled the large coat tighte

rinting out of the revolv

ed his head and shot Alistair a look so filled w

. He collapsed onto the

hey slid into the plush leather seats of t

leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake. One of the tactical guards stayed behind, flashing a high-level

r armchair. He clinked his crystal glass of whiskey against his friend Kian's glass, celebrating his newfound freed

Chapter End

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The Divorced Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

I. HAWKINS Modern

“Less than two hours after Brooklyn pushed a baby out of her body, her husband walked into the VIP delivery room. But he didn't come to hold their newborn. Instead, his assistant tossed a thick stack of papers and a ten-million-dollar check onto her trembling legs. It was a divorce settlement. Baron looked down at her pale, exhausted face with pure, clinical detachment. "Agnes is back. I needed a wife to secure my company shares, and you needed a roof over your head. The transaction is over." He didn't even glance at the crying infant in the incubator. He just checked his luxury watch, complained about being late for a board meeting, and walked out. Minutes later, the head nurse barged in, her eyes dripping with contempt. She announced that Baron had revoked Brooklyn's VIP privileges and ordered her to move to the general ward immediately. Brooklyn stared at the ceiling, her core muscles screaming in agony from the delivery. Her three years of total devotion, their marriage, and their child were nothing but a cheap, insulting joke to him. In his eyes, she was just a pathetic, poor girl who could be easily bought off and thrown away like trash. The last ember of love in her heart turned to ash, replaced by a terrifying coldness. She calmly ripped the ten-million-dollar check into tiny pieces. Then, she ripped out her IV needle, picked up a heavily encrypted phone she hadn't used in three years, and dialed a number. "I need the chief legal counsel and the tactical security team at Mount Sinai Hospital in exactly thirty minutes." It was time for the real billionaire heiress of Beverly Hills to go home.”