He Saved Her, I Lost Our Child

For three years, I kept a secret ledger of my husband's sins. A point system to decide exactly when I would leave Blake Santos, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago. I thought the final straw would be him forgetting our anniversary dinner to comfort his "childhood friend," Ariana. I was wrong. The real breaking point came when the restaurant ceiling collapsed. In that split second, Blake didn't look at me. He dove to his right, shielding Ariana with his body, leaving me to be crushed under a half-ton crystal chandelier. I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a shattered leg and a hollow womb. The doctor, trembling and pale, told me my eight-week-old fetus hadn't survived the trauma and blood loss. "We tried to get the O-negative reserves," he stammered, refusing to meet my eyes. "But Dr. Santos ordered us to hold them. He said Miss Whitfield might go into shock from her injuries." "What injuries?" I whispered. "A laceration on her finger," the doctor admitted. "And anxiety." He let our unborn child die to save the blood reserves for his mistress’s paper cut. Blake finally walked into my room hours later, smelling of Ariana’s perfume, expecting me to be the dutiful, silent wife who understood his "duty." Instead, I picked up my pen and wrote the final entry in my black leather book. *Minus five points. He killed our child.* *Total Score: Zero.* I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just signed the divorce papers, called my extraction team, and vanished into the rain before he could turn around.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Caroline POV

The sky over Chicago was the color of a fresh bruise, a swollen expanse of purple threatening to burst.

It was fitting.

I stood before my mother's grave, the wet grass soaking through the brace on my leg. I had wrapped the cast in a plastic bag, a humiliating necessity that crinkled with every shift of my weight. I leaned heavily on my cane—the crutches were too clumsy for the uneven ground of the cemetery.

I was saying goodbye. Not just to her, but to the version of me she had raised. The good girl. The obedient daughter. The perfect wife.

Blake stood by the car, twenty yards away. He was leaning against the hood of the black SUV, illuminated by the glow of his phone screen. He had offered to drive me. An olive branch, perhaps. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure I didn't run off before the Family dinner on Sunday.

I touched the cold marble of the headstone. It felt like ice against my fingertips.

"I'm going to burn it down, Mom," I whispered, the words snatched away by the wind. "I'm going to build something new from the ashes."

I turned to walk back to the car. The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes.

Blake looked up as I approached. He didn't offer an arm to help me. He just opened the passenger door.

"Get in," he said, his voice flat. "The storm is breaking."

I was halfway into the seat, maneuvering my stiff leg, when his phone rang.

The ringtone was specific. A soft, melodic chime that cut through the howl of the wind.

He froze. He looked at the screen.

He answered it immediately.

"Ari?" His tone shifted instantly, softening into panic. "What's wrong?"

I paused, one leg inside the car, the broken one still on the pavement.

He listened, his face tightening.

"A flat tire? Where are you?"

He looked at me. Then he looked at the darkening sky. Then he looked back at the phone.

"I can't send a soldier, Ari. You're on the South Side. It's neutral territory, but it's dangerous at night. I'm twenty minutes away."

He hung up.

He looked at me. There was no apology in his eyes, only the frantic calculation of a man obsessed.

"Caroline, get out of the car."

"Excuse me?" I asked, though the dread pooling in my stomach told me I knew exactly what he was saying.

"Ariana has a flat tire on 95th. She's alone. I have to go get her."

"You're dropping me off here?" I gestured to the empty road, the rows of gravestones, the storm clouds that were about to burst. "With a broken leg?"

"I'll call you an Uber," he said, already rounding the car to the driver's side. "It'll be here in ten minutes. Wait under the gatehouse awning."

"Blake, it's going to pour."

"She is alone, Caroline!" he snapped, slamming his door. "She is terrified. You are safe here. The dead can't hurt you."

He started the engine.

I stepped back, scrambling to pull my broken leg out of the vehicle just as he threw it into gear.

The tires spun on the wet gravel, spraying mud onto my coat. He didn't look back. The black SUV tore down the cemetery drive, taillights glowing red like demon eyes, racing to save the damsel in distress from a minor inconvenience.

I stood there.

The first drop of rain hit my cheek. Then the second. Then the heavens opened up.

The rain was freezing. It soaked through my coat instantly. I huddled under the small overhang of the locked gatehouse, shivering, clutching my phone.

No signal.

The storm was interfering with the reception. I couldn't call an Uber. I couldn't call Bridget.

I was alone in the dark, miles from home, crippled and abandoned.

I started to walk. I had to get to the main road to find a signal.

Step. Drag. Pain. Step. Drag. Pain.

Headlights appeared in the distance. A truck, moving too fast for the slick conditions.

I raised my hand, waving my cane, trying to flag them down.

The truck swerved. The brakes locked. The screech of tires on wet asphalt was a sound that ripped through my soul.

I tried to move. I tried to jump back.

But my broken leg wouldn't cooperate. It anchored me to the spot.

The headlights consumed my vision. White, blinding light.

And then, impact.

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My husband, Deegan, plunged a needle into my heavily pregnant belly. He said it was a mild sedative to "slow things down." The truth was a brutal betrayal. His brother's widow, Karmen, was also due, and her son had to be born first to secure the family inheritance. He was sacrificing our child for money. He locked me in a panic room, leaving me to suffer through agonizing contractions alone. His sister found me, not to help, but to kick me and let her venomous snake sink its fangs into my arm. As I lay bleeding out, my baby dying inside me, he had all the life-saving medical equipment moved to Karmen's private clinic, leaving me with nothing. He called me a manipulative actress, a gold-digger trying to steal the inheritance. The man who swore to protect me left me to die on a cold floor, choosing a birthright over his own child. But I didn't die. My billionaire father saved me, and I was reborn from the ashes of my grief. Years later, when Deegan stormed into my boardroom, convinced he could drag his "dead" wife home, I looked at the pathetic man he'd become. I slowly pulled the wedding ring from my finger and let it fall to the floor. "The woman who loved you died that night."

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.4

A Game Of Revenge

9.4

"You are only making things difficult for us." he said. "Just sign the papers and let's get this over with." As I opened my mouth to speak, I noticed that the wardrobe was slightly opened. Curious, I began to walk towards it. "Emily, what do you think you're doing?" he asked. But I ignored him. I lifted a trembling hand, gripped the handle, and opened the wardrobe. My heart sank. "Abby?" ********************** Although, she's heard a few times, but Emily has refused to believe that her husband, Marcus has been hanging around with different ladies, and sometimes he brings them home. Even though she's hurt, but as long she doesn't come across or trade words with any of those ladies, then she's fine with it. And she was, but not until she finds one hiding naked in the wardrobe. Not just any woman, but her own sister, Abby. Rather than apologizing to Emily, Marcus asks for a divorce and tells her to leave. To make matters worse, Abby is pregnant for him. Feeling betrayed, Emily attempts taking her own life. But fortunately, she survives. A month later, she returns as the wife to a wealthy billionaire. Now she's ready to get her revenge. Just how far can Emily go to see her ex-husband and sister suffer?

Action Modern Romance

8.5

After He Called Me Gold Digger I Became His Rival

8.5

I spent three years by Nathan's side. Until the day of his birthday party, when I accidentally overheard his remarks about me from outside the private room: Just a gold digger... A temporary fling until his first love returned from abroad... Little did he know, I am Nyomi Coleman, the heiress of a family far more prestigious than his. Turning away, I dialed my brother's number: "Cassius, I've agreed to the family arrangement." --- It had been three years since I last called my brother. "Cassius, I want to come home." From the other end of the line, my brother, Cassius Bell, detected the tremor in my voice and urgently asked, "What's wrong? Is something going on?" I fought back my tears, took a deep breath, and said, "I was wrong. True feelings can't always be reciprocated. You mentioned introducing me to some friends last time. I'm open to the idea of a date now." Cassius had always disapproved of the Tuckers, thinking them unworthy.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

After His Fiancée Paid to End My Life

9.0

The crystal chandelier cast a golden glow across the private lounge as I adjusted my silk gown, watching Marcus Delacroix's eyes follow the movement. The French businessman was notoriously tight-lipped about his financial dealings, but three glasses of Macallan 25 had loosened his tongue considerably. "Novah, you're the only one who truly understands the complexities of international finance," he slurred, leaning closer. "These American politicians have no idea how money really moves." I traced my finger along the rim of my champagne flute, a practiced gesture that had extracted millions in secrets over the years. "I find it fascinating how campaign contributions from overseas corporations are still legal if they're funneled through the right shell companies." Marcus laughed, a sound that carried the weight of men who believed their wealth made them untouchable. "The Wright campaign is particularly creative with their accounting. August Wright's rise to political prominence has been... exceptionally well-funded." My pulse quickened, but my expression remained perfectly neutral. "How interesting. I've heard he's quite the rising star." "Star, yes.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.6

DANGEROUS CRAVINGS: SINFULLY TANGLED WITH MY STEPBROTHER

9.6

Ezran Williamson never asked for a new family, especially not one that comes with a stepbrother he can't stand. At twenty-one, Ezran is sharp-tongued, rebellious, and determined to graduate and build a future in programming on his own terms. But when his mother remarries a powerful businessman, his carefully controlled life collides with Lucian Banks, his cold, dominant, and dangerously untouchable stepbrother. Successful, older, and infuriatingly composed, Lucian is everything Ezran hates. Slowly, hatred turns into tension, tension becomes chemistry, and chemistry ignites something neither of them is prepared to face. What begins as resistance slowly unravels into a forbidden obsession, one that defies family, morality, and control. As secrets surface and pressure mounts, Ezran and Lucian are forced to choose between duty and desire, legacy and love, because some feelings don't fade and some obsessions are worth every consequence.

Action LGBT+Mafia Modern

8.4

His Silent Omega's Hidden White Wolf Bloodline

8.4

I was the Lycan King's political wife, universally despised as a "wolfless Omega" freak. When my husband, Kingsley, was poisoned with a lethal dose of silver at a pack gala, I disguised my scent and risked everything to drag him to safety. But instead of recognizing his mate, he threw me to the wolves. He spent weeks tearing the city apart to find his "mysterious savior," while treating me like a sickening disease. "Stay out of my sight. You reek of sickness." He spat those words at me, completely blind to the fact that the scent he hated was the bleach I used to hide my tracks. Meanwhile, my abusive family publicly humiliated me, auctioning off my mother's grave to my worst enemy while Kingsley just watched in disgust. I endured his icy glares and their venomous insults in silence. They all thought I was just a pathetic, empty shell they could crush. They didn't know I was "The Zero"—the phantom hacker currently bleeding their financial empires dry. At the grand auction, I finally dropped the act. I wiped out my enemy's fortune with a single keystroke, bought my mother's land, and traded it to the Elders for my absolute freedom. Now, as the auction screens bleed red, Kingsley is staring at me with dark, consuming shock. He finally realizes the lethal monster he’s been hunting was his submissive wife all along.

Modern Romance Werewolf

He Saved Her, I Lost Our Child

Chapter 7

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