Divorcing The Cold Billionaire After Baby Birth

ed, pressing the pho

faint, rhythmic sound of breat

the call was still connected, and put it back to her ear.

dead

y Victor's. The words were forced out, so

. She leaned her good shoulder against the wa

expect me to reimburse you for cleaning supplies

nbelievable," she muttered. She sho

hen. She opened the ancient refrigerator. It was completely empty,

lipped on her damp sneakers, and l

open window down the street. Aria walked three blocks until she found a di

shadow of a decaying overpass,

he store. He dropped the burger back into the wrapper, wiped his hands on a napkin, and grabbed a black basebal

ed a metal shopping cart. The front left wheel was completely jamm

matoes and turning them over to check for soft spots. She compared the price per pound on t

ables into her cart. He felt a bizarre sense of cognitive dissonance. This woman was legally marr

e. She needed milk. The cheapest gallon jugs wer

but she couldn't get a grip. She leaned closer, and the cold metal handle of the shopping ca

head. A large hand grabbed the gallon of milk and

around,

ly awkward smile. He pulled the baseball cap

broad shoulders and the square jaw imme

ed the back of his neck. "I, uh. I live ar

e. She knew he was lying, but she didn't have the energy t

to her coin purse, counting out quarters and dimes. Sean step

that," he of

him. "No. Thank you. I can pay for my own gro

ic bags from her hands. Aria tried to protest, but he was already walking toward her apartment

said, giving her a respectful nod b

e, the phone pressed to his ear. He was connected to

n reported. "She couldn't even reach the milk. And

rned white. The image of her struggling to reach a shelf, eating garbag

ready to leak at any moment. If there's an explosion or an accident, how do you think the media will spin th

an asked,

full-time, live-in housekeeper. Send her there immediately. I am not dea