Divorcing The Cold Billionaire After Baby Birth

le Dylan had sent. His eyes scanned the lines of text, scrolling past her financial records and medical history until he fou

er and hit save. He stood up, walked to the window, and yanked his tie completely off. He tossed it onto the sofa. He felt entirely out of control

ust motes danced in the shafts of sunl

he was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the scuffed wooden floor of the

er wrist. A dull, heavy ache settled low in her abdomen. She pressed her han

lway toward the master bedroom. Victor had explicitly told her not to go in there. She had no intention of cross

iced the cabinet door was slightly ajar, its lock completely broken off. Curiosity, mixed with a stubborn desire to clean out any r

down, the rotting cardboard gave way under her fingers. Aria gasped, her eyes widening in sudden panic as she tried

hair just as the box hit the floor and split open.

ly. Her eyes watered. She rubbed her shoulder, w

down at the mess scattered acr

had spilled out, their edges yellowed and curled. Tangled in the mess were a few pieces of

hings she knew about him. Then she remembered a tabloid article she had read years ago about the Sterling family's early real estate acquisitions. This building was

k sketchbook that had landed face down. She

bridges and skyscrapers. The pencil strokes were aggressive but incredibly precise.

finger. She couldn't reconcile these passionate, artistic drawi

otograph slipped out from between t

fourteen or fifteen. He was wearing the same navy prep schoo

ing. It wasn't a smirk or a cold sneer. It was a massive, genuine,

man she knew was a walking block of ice. What kind of nightmar

the baseball glove, and the clothes, packing them neatly into a different, sturdier b

loud buzzing sound vib

e. The screen lit up with an unsaved New York number. She wiped t

her voice slightly