Abandoned by Family, Adored by a Billionaire

"Alright, that's enough, Daisy. Go upstairs with your aunt, take a bath, and get to bed. You have kindergarten tomorrow," Bryon commanded, his tone shifting back to its usual authoritative clip.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's go before we wake your mother up, or she'll yell at me again," Isabella cooed softly, taking Daisy's small hand and leading her toward the grand staircase.

Bryon stood at the foot of the stairs for a moment. He turned his head, his sharp, calculating gaze falling on Chloe's pale form huddled on the sofa. He stared at her in silence for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before he turned his back to follow the others upstairs.

"Did you see the text I sent you?"

Chloe's voice was hoarse. She gritted her teeth against the searing pain in her abdomen and forced herself to sit up, staring at his broad, tailored back.

"Chloe, your constant lying and jealous tantrums do not make you look cute," Bryon said, pausing on the second step. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes filled with nothing but cold disdain.

He had seen it. He just didn't care.

"You think I'm lying? You think I'm just jealous?" Chloe asked, her voice eerily calm despite the tremor in her hands.

"Aren't you? Isabella is your sister. Why are you so incapable of just being happy for her? Why is there always this pathetic need to compete?" Bryon fired back, his handsome face set in the familiar lines of irritation he always reserved for her.

"How much of her toxic bullshit have you swallowed to be this blind to reality?" Chloe asked, shaking her head slowly.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" Bryon's voice dropped dangerously low, a warning growl.

"Nothing that matters anymore," Chloe said, reaching into her oversized handbag. She pulled out a crisp, stapled document and a silver pen, holding them out toward him. "I've already signed the divorce agreement. I just need you to sign it."

She lowered her eyes, hiding the sheen of unshed tears, and kept her arm extended.

Bryon's jaw tightened. He marched down the two steps, snatched the document from her hand, and scanned the first page. A harsh, mocking laugh escaped his lips.

"A divorce? You're asking for a divorce?" he sneered. "Chloe, need I remind you of the ironclad prenuptial agreement you signed? If we divorce, you walk away with absolutely nothing. And you will never get custody of Daisy."

"You don't need to worry about that. I don't want the house, the cars, or the investments. And you can keep the daughter who hates me," Chloe said, her voice flat, devoid of the desperation he was used to hearing. "But you will compensate me for the six years I spent as a servant in this house. I'm not greedy. Thirty million dollars is a bargain for my silence."

Bryon's eyes darkened with sudden, explosive fury. He crumpled the thick stack of papers in his fist and threw them violently onto the floor at her feet.

"You have some nerve, Chloe. Have you conveniently forgotten whose fault it is that Isabella was forced to live abroad for six years? Have you forgotten who caused the scandal that ruined her early career?" Bryon snarled, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her.

He was furious. She was the one who had thrown herself at him, who had begged for this marriage. If anyone was going to initiate a divorce, it would be him discarding her, not the other way around.

"So, me stepping aside and letting you three play house is a problem now?" Chloe bent down, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in her gut, and picked up the crumpled papers. She smoothed them out and stubbornly held them out to him again.

Bryon opened his mouth to shout, but a soft, sultry voice drifted down from the second-floor landing.

"Bryon? Could you bring me a towel? I forgot to grab one."

Bryon's anger seemed to evaporate instantly. "Stop this ridiculous performance, Chloe. We are not getting a divorce. Since you're awake, go to the kitchen and make some ginger tea for Isabella. It's cold out."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and bounded up the stairs.

In six years of marriage, he had never once asked her to make tea with such urgency, let alone for someone else. He wanted her to serve his mistress.

Does he really think I'm that pathetic?

Chloe slowly lowered her hand, folding the divorce agreement and sliding it back into her bag.

A few minutes later, Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs and slowly descended. She was wearing Bryon's black silk dress shirt. It was massive on her, the top three buttons undone to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. The hem barely covered her upper thighs, leaving her long, bare legs exposed.

She looked exactly like the lady of the manor, while Chloe looked like a battered vagrant who had wandered in from the cold.

"Sister, I told Daisy I shouldn't stay over, but she just wouldn't let me leave. You're not mad, are you?" Isabella asked, her tone dripping with fake innocence.

"I'm not mad. Go get your rest," Chloe replied, her face a mask of stone.

Isabella smirked, a vicious glint in her eyes. She walked closer, leaning against the banister.

"You know, sis, I heard you and Bryon sleep in separate rooms. That's no way to keep a man," Isabella whispered, her voice turning husky. "You have to be proactive. If you don't know how, I could give you some pointers. Bryon absolutely loves it when I ride him. And he goes crazy when I wear his shirts like this..."

She lifted one leg slightly, striking a provocative pose, her eyes locking onto Chloe's with a triumphant, malicious gleam, trying to twist the knife as deep as it would go.

"Isabella, I got the towel-"