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Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.Your brother's wedding should be considered a happy day, right?
But for me, it's not.
In fact, I'm dreading it.
Not because of my brother-or his fiancée, for that matter, I do like her-but because I know who will be there, and that's something I'm not looking forward to.
I have what people call a rotten picker-for men, that is.
Every single guy I ever hooked up with or had a fling with were stupid assholes.
Except one. Spencer Bailey.
And he is precisely the reason why I'm not excited for my brother's wedding.
I'm definitely not ready to see him again.
But to tell my brother that I won't attend his wedding because I'm afraid to face my ex would be pathetic.
Even for me.
And I'm not that person. I'm not someone who runs from problems. I face them head on. Or at least, that's what I like to think I do.
Well, I guess if you're ready for some drama, then my life is definitely the right place for you to find it.
"Stop looking at me like that," I burst to my sister, Lauren, rolling my eyes and tossing my pillow at her. "I've already told you several times that I'm fine. And if anything, you should be taking my side on this. I don't have to remind you of the reasons why this sucks."
"I was just checking on you to make sure you're okay." Lauren tosses the pillow back at me before pulling her light brown hair into a ponytail and fixing her firefighter uniform. It still astonishes me how she can look so pretty wearing a uniform-and before 8:00 A.M. That should be considered a crime. "And honestly, we have, like, thousands of cousins coming to the wedding. Maybe you won't even see Spencer. Let alone bump into him."
She is right about that. We do have a big family. Mom and Dad have, like, countless siblings, which takes us to countless cousins and so on....
"Whatever," I mumble, frustrated. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have to go to work? I don't even know why you moved out in the first place if you are here pretty much every day."
"Well, last time I checked, this is still my parents' house. I can come by anytime I want. And I moved out because I wanted to be closer to the fire department. I can sleep a few more minutes since I don't have to drive there."
I groan, too frustrated to find a proper answer for her. At moments like this, I regret not having my own space.
But honestly, I went down that road several times before, and none of those times could I convince myself that paying rent while my parents own this huge ranch was a good idea. They give me enough privacy; I have my own room. I don't meddle in their business, and they don't meddle in mine, and I get to help them with some of the bills. It's a win-win situation.
"I'll be going now. Are we still on for picking up the dresses tomorrow morning?" Lauren asks with her hand already on the doorknob.
"Yeah, ten A.M. sharp. Otherwise, I'll leave without you," I answer, flashing her a grin and tossing the pillow back at her. She dodges it and turns on her heel, vanishing from my sight before I have the chance to tell her off.
I sigh, falling back on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I really don't want to complain about my life or anything-I'm not that person. I don't mope. I have a good life. I don't even have the right to complain.
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Homecoming Love
She won't take him back--no matter what. Or will she? Hayden Jenkins has lived in her hometown of Missoula, Montana, ever since she was born. She loves a simple life surrounded by her loving family, and that seems to be everything she needs. Or so she thinks. When her oldest brother's wedding appro/0/84256/coverorgin.jpg?v=389f4cc36ff1207cee55095274e64862&imageMogr2/format/webp)
