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Healing The Broken Billionaire's Cold Heart

Chapter 3

Word Count: 723 | Released on: Today at 18:45

s to her apartment. Tammy, her husband-Britta's brot

blic!" her brother blustered, his face red

o the ground, slapping

ughter, a violent hooliga

of their doors, dra

a cold, hard mask. The last thread of f

her voice devoid of emotion. "Tammy i

h her reinforcements. "Your son is a fatherless bastard! Wha

again.

tta's eyes. She pressed the apa

he said in a low, urgent voice. "Don'

odded, scurrying past them and fumbling

lone, Tammy grew bolder. She nudged he

lunged, reaching

ow drove hard into the soft part of his stomach. He grunted, doubling o

d. They had never seen the quie

clawed at Britta, a set of keys clutch

sharply. Tammy cried out as the keys fell, clattering on the concrete. Britta sho

rserk. She scrambled to the apartment door

you open this door! I

the sound of his grandmo

al straw. A white-hot rage flooded Britta's senses.

the door

launched himself out. Like a small, cornered

e squeal, shaking her arm violentl

a saw

e rose to her full height and walked slowly toward Brenda, wh

uiet, but each word

moment on,

Brenda to her br

other. You are no

even lower, laced

olice and file a restraining order. I will tell them everyth

nt pale. She kne

Leo into her arms, stepped into her apartment, and s

sband helped the whimpering Brenda to her feet. They

held Leo, roc

I'm sorry..." he sobb

of his head, her own v

brave boy. You were prote

had severed the toxi

te certainty, that th

Chapter End

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Healing The Broken Billionaire's Cold Heart

Out Of Town Modern

“Six years ago, a terrifying night forced me to abandon my medical studies and hide in a decaying town, working in a dusty factory to raise my son, Leo, all alone. My toxic mother and sister-in-law constantly leached off me, calling my son an unwanted bastard. When they ganged up to beat us in our own hallway, I finally snapped, fought them off, and severed ties with my family forever. Desperate to escape that hell, I accepted a massive six-figure contract from a wealthy matriarch. My job was to rehabilitate her paralyzed, deeply traumatized ex-pilot son, Evan Carlisle. But the moment we moved into their estate, Evan proved to be a tyrant. When my little boy simply admired his model airplane, Evan roared in pure rage and propelled his heavy wheelchair violently toward my terrified child. I threw myself in front of Leo, letting the metal chair crash into my legs. Looking down at Evan's furious face, a cold shock ran through me. He had the exact same deep-set gray eyes and stubborn jaw as my son. The memory of that dark, hazy party six years ago suddenly flashed in my mind. Could this volatile, broken billionaire actually be my son's biological father? "You will not yell at my son. Ever." I stared down at the stunned man, my voice as cold as ice. I wasn't going to run away and hide anymore; I was going to tame this broken lion and uncover the truth of what really happened to me.”