From Broken Fiancée To Corporate Queen
I walked into the hospital wing to find my fiancé, Derrick, holding his pregnant high-school sweetheart.
His plan was sickening: he would publicly claim her baby to save her from scandal, while our child, the one I was secretly carrying, would be hidden away-a shameful 'accident'.
He locked me in a damp guesthouse as his mother called me a whore and my unborn child a bastard.
But the true cost of his weakness came when she dragged me to a clinic and forced an abortion, killing my seven-month-old baby while Derrick was away caring for his other family.
Six months later, I returned.
Backed by a powerful new family, I walked into the Bradford Corporation's boardroom to face them all.
Derrick looked at me like he'd seen a ghost, not realizing I was there to take his entire empire.
I signed the papers that made me his boss and smiled for the cameras.
"The old Ava is dead," I whispered. "Long live the queen."
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Chapter 3
Ava Clements POV:
His words, like poisoned arrows, pierced through what little hope I had left. He thought I was heartless? After everything?
I quickly wiped the fresh tears from my cheeks. No more. I wouldn't cry for him. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My voice, when it came, was calm, almost detached.
"Then let's make this easier for everyone," I said, my gaze fixed on his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Take Charlotte. Take her baby. And I'll leave. I'm sure someone else will be happy to take me in, and my child."
Derrick slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt on the side of the road, throwing me forward against the seatbelt.
He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a furious light. "What are you talking about? Leave? Are you insane?"
His voice was a low growl. "You're not going anywhere, Ava. You're carrying my child. I won't let you go. And I won't give up on either of my children."
The next morning, the house was swarming with security personnel. They patrolled the perimeter, their stern faces impassive. Derrick had locked me in my room, confiscating my phone and laptop. He said it was for my own good, to keep me safe from the media storm. It felt more like a prison.
Loud noises from downstairs startled me awake. I crept to the top of the grand staircase, peering over the railing. Charlotte and her mother, a woman with a face as sharp as her tongue, were directing a flurry of movers. Huge trunks and designer luggage were being carried into the best guest suites.
Charlotte's mother spotted me. A sneer twisted her lips.
"Look at the whore," she hissed, loud enough for me to hear. "Still clinging to what isn't hers. Parading her bastard child around."
She pulled Charlotte into an embrace, patting her back. "My poor darling, having to endure this. Derrick should have sent this... thing away the moment he found out about her pregnancy."
Charlotte lowered her head, feigning shame, but her eyes flickered up, meeting mine. A triumphant, mocking smile played on her lips. She mouthed a silent "He chose me."
Rage, cold and pure, surged through me. My hand flew up, a primal instinct. The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed through the silent house.
Charlotte's hand flew to her face, eyes wide with feigned shock. Tears welled up, spilling dramatically down her face. She wailed, a high-pitched, piercing sound.
"Ava! What have you done?!" Derrick's roar came from behind me.
I turned, my heart sinking. He hadn't seen Charlotte's taunt. He had only seen my strike. She was a master manipulator, and I had fallen right into her trap.
Charlotte's cries grew louder, drawing her furious mother closer. Her eyes, filled with hatred, glared at me.
"You shameless hussy!" Charlotte's mother shrieked. "How dare you lay a hand on my daughter! You think you can just hook your claws into a Bradford and get away with it? Your little bastard won't fool anyone!"
She turned to Derrick. "Derrick, how can you let this woman stay here? She' s a cheat, a liar, and now a common brawler! I'm taking Charlotte home if you don't send her away!"
Charlotte buried her face in Derrick's chest, sobbing hysterically. Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine again. This time, the smirk was undeniable.
Derrick stood frozen for a long moment, his face a mask of indecision. He gently pushed Charlotte away, his gaze falling on me.
"Charlotte, you can leave," he said, his voice surprisingly firm. "But Ava stays."
Charlotte gasped, her sobs abruptly cut off. Her eyes widened, staring at us in disbelief. Then, with a furious scream, she stormed out, her mother trailing behind her, muttering threats.
"You bastard! You'll regret this, Derrick! You've ruined everything!" her mother screeched as she followed Charlotte out of the house.
Derrick looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. He was asking for my understanding, for my permission. My acquiescence for the sacrifice he demanded.
I understood. I always did. The weight of his family's name, the precariousness of his position. He was trapped, a weak man in a gilded cage.
I was moved to the small guesthouse on the estate. It was damp and cramped, a stark contrast to the luxurious rooms in the main villa that Charlotte now enjoyed.
"It's just temporary, Ava," Derrick promised, his voice soft. "Just until Charlotte is settled. Then I'll buy us a new house, a home for just us and our baby."
I didn't argue. My mind was already elsewhere. Escape. That was the only thought that mattered. Every waking moment was spent plotting. I even considered asking Charlotte for help, a desperate, foolish thought.
But Charlotte just laughed. "Derrick and I have a bond you couldn't possibly understand, Ava," she'd sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He trusts me implicitly. He always has."
And I saw the truth in her eyes, a cold, hard certainty that chilled me to the bone. I realized then how wrong I'd been.
Every night, I would lie awake, listening to the muffled sounds of Derrick reading bedtime stories to Charlotte's unborn child from the main house. Then, much later, I'd hear his footsteps, hesitant and slow, approaching my guesthouse.
He'd slip into my room, calling my name softly, "Ava? Are you awake?"
I always pretended to be asleep, my back to him.
One night, I finally broke my silence. "What do you want, Derrick?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.
His voice was thick with pain. "Do you hate me so much, Ava? Don't you trust my love for you anymore?"
A flicker of pity, cold and fleeting, touched my heart. But I quickly extinguished it. He didn't deserve it. He deserved this agonizing emptiness he felt.
I squeezed my eyes shut, a silent tear tracing a path to my ear. He wouldn't see it. He wouldn't know.
"I will have this baby, Derrick," I said, my voice firm. "But this confinement isn't good for either of us. I need fresh air. I need my phone. And I need to speak to my mother."
He pulled me into an embrace from behind, his arms strong but his touch hollow. "Yes, Ava. Anything you want. Just promise me you'll rest. Promise me you'll stay calm."
His voice, however, held a strange, almost excited edge. The air suddenly felt heavy with an unspoken bargain. He thought he had me exactly where he wanted me.