Betrayed By My Ruthless Billionaire Husband

The smell of antiseptic pulled Amelie from the darkness.

She wasn't in the luxurious birthing suite. This room was small, stark, and simple. Sunlight stabbed at her eyes. She raised a hand to block it, her body feeling hollowed out, weak as a newborn kitten.

Her first thought was the baby.

She sat up abruptly, a sharp, pulling pain shooting from her abdomen. She threw back the thin blanket. Her stomach was flat, marked by an angry, red incision.

"My baby..." she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. The room was silent. No crib. No tiny blankets. Nothing.

She forced herself out of bed, each step a fresh agony. Leaning against the wall, she stumbled out of the room, searching for a nurse's station.

A nurse saw her and her eyes darted away. "You're awake. You should be in bed. You're still very weak."

Amelie grabbed her arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "My baby? Where is my baby? Is it a boy or a girl?"

The nurse pulled her arm free, her expression tinged with contempt. "We don't know. Mr. Slater handled everything."

Amelie's heart plummeted. She lurched toward the elevator. The Slater estate. Jonas must have taken the baby home.

Her thin hospital gown drew stares in the lobby. She flagged down a taxi, trading her only remaining valuable, her watch, for the fare to the famous Long Island estate.

An hour later, the taxi stopped before ornate iron gates. A guard blocked her way.

"I'm sorry. You can't enter without Mr. Slater's permission."

Amelie beat against the cold iron, screaming Jonas's name. The violent movement tore at her C-section wound. Blood seeped through the thin cotton of her gown, a spreading crimson stain.

Corie emerged from the mansion, dressed in an elegant Chanel suit. She looked at Amelie with a pitying expression, as if observing a lunatic in a cage.

"Cousin, please stop this. Jonas won't see you." Her voice was soft, but every word was a dagger.

Amelie gripped the bars, her eyes locked on Corie. "My baby, Corie. Where did you hide my baby?"

Corie sighed, her eyes filling with a carefully crafted sadness. "Amelie, I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this..."

She paused, as if choosing her words with great care. "The baby... it was a stillbirth. It wasn't breathing when it was born."

"No... that's impossible... I heard him cry... I heard it!" Amelie was sure of it, in the last moments before she passed out.

Corie shook her head sadly. "You were hallucinating. The doctors said you were unstable from the blood loss. Jonas was devastated. He's already... taken care of the arrangements. He didn't want you to suffer any more."

"Arrangements?" Amelie repeated the word, a terrible dread seizing her. "What arrangements?"

Corie's eyes turned cold, a flicker of cruel satisfaction in their depths. "Jonas said that an unclean, unwanted child didn't deserve a place in the Slater family plot. He had the groundskeeper dispose of it."

The words struck Amelie like lightning, shattering her into a million pieces. The image of her newborn, discarded like trash, made her stomach heave.

A black Bentley pulled up. Jonas's executive assistant, Simon Hayes, stepped out. His face was a blank mask.

"Mrs. Beaumont," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion. "Mr. Slater asked me to inform you that the Beaumont family trust has been frozen and is under investigation by the SEC for regulatory violations."

Amelie stared at him, uncomprehending.

Simon continued, his voice flat. "Furthermore, your mother, Mrs. Cheryl Beaumont, suffered a massive heart attack upon hearing the news of the company's impending bankruptcy. She passed away this morning."

The baby was dead. The family was ruined. Her mother was gone.

No sound came from her open mouth.

Corie took a step forward, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Cousin, don't take it so hard..."

Amelie's head snapped up. Her eyes burned with a hatred so pure it was terrifying. She began to shake the gates, a wild, primal scream building in her chest, wanting to tear the woman before her to pieces.

Corie recoiled, genuinely frightened by the look in Amelie's eyes. She shrieked at the guards, "She's insane! Get her away from here!"

A guard pressed a button. Vicious barking erupted from within the estate grounds. Several Dobermans, trained for patrol, charged toward the gate, teeth bared, surrounding Amelie.

Her frail, postpartum body could take no more. Surrounded by snarling dogs and an ocean of despair, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving pavement.