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His Unwanted Wife's Return With Secret Twins

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 920    |    Released on: Today at 08:58

along the highway heading into Manhattan, s

her temples wearily. The image of that doll-like litt

o Daxton's ear and whispered, "Bro, did

ots from gossip tabloids on his t

d's illegitimate daughter, a bargaining

t in his hand into crumbs,

aced witch and even had a kid with her! Everyt

s fingers tapped a string of

it. The Watson Group's

in her lap, the screen flashing an

er, her voice cool

who is

voice came th

m Colin, executive assistant t

s fingers tightened around the pho

urmoil in her chest,

ng. Wha

olin wiped the swea

p, but we missed you. Is your accommodation s

cold sneer and

s. Tell your boss I'm only here to

tossed the phone onto the empty seat besid

d. She had taken this sky-high medical contract purely to build a massive education fund f

the scumbag dad discover her true identity. His fingers flew across the tablet, w

ed them alone through a foreign country with no one to lean on, how she had given birth to them thousands of miles from home and raised them by herself,

ng app, staring at the green candlestick ch

w energy project recently. His ca

't even lif

e trouble. Short his per

most childish voices to plot a financial ambush

round garage of a luxury apartment building on the Up

Watson Group tower, Bartholomew sat behind his

nnected phone and reported awkwardly, "Boss, Dr. Sunny

ped his pen and

e call r

ay the audio. Astrid's cold, crisp vo

nt, not to socialize," Bartholomew's chest jolted. The

ir legs scraping harshly against the hardwood

voic

umped i

g? Is there a prob

ed the short recording over and over. The rims of his eyes

hat impatient lilt at the end of her senten

e of the desk and ordered in a gravelly voice, "Pull every si

into his leather chair. He pulled open the bottom drawer

the camera. He ran his rough thumb gently over her face in th

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His Unwanted Wife's Return With Secret Twins
His Unwanted Wife's Return With Secret Twins
“Three years ago, my biological mother traded me to the Watson family like livestock to pay off a thirty-million-dollar debt. When my sentence was finally up, I signed the divorce papers, only for my stepsister to hand me a spiked glass of champagne. "Bartholomew was always mine," she whispered. Drugged and desperate to escape, I stumbled into a pitch-black penthouse and accidentally slept with my cold-hearted ex-husband. Terrified he would take my baby, I fled to Zurich. I nearly bled to death delivering triplets, only to wake up and be told my youngest daughter didn't survive the night. For six years, I lived with a shattered heart, while tabloids praised Bartholomew and my stepsister for raising a pampered little heiress together. I didn't understand why I had to suffer the agony of losing a child while the two of them lived a perfect, wealthy life with their daughter. I had no idea my best friend had secretly given my critically ill baby to Bartholomew just to keep her alive. Now, I've returned to New York as a top surgeon with my two genius hacker sons. When my five-year-old boys hack into the Watson family's secure archives and realize who that little heiress really is, their eyes turn ice-cold. "Mommy almost died having us, and he's out here playing super-dad." My sons lock onto the billionaire's offshore accounts and hit the enter key. "It's time to bleed the scumbag dry."”