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 Sir, She's Gone With Their Daughter And Never Returns Novel Cover

Sir, She's Gone With Their Daughter And Never Returns

My four-year-old daughter was dying of leukemia, waiting desperately for a bone marrow transplant. I begged my billionaire husband to just call the registry or visit her, but he claimed he was too busy with board meetings to care. Until the hospital informed me that my daughter's life-saving bone marrow had been suddenly reallocated to another patient. When I walked down the VIP hallway, I found my husband. He wasn't at a board meeting. He was gently peeling an apple, playing the loving father to his widowed mistress's daughter. When my pale, sick daughter called out for him, he instinctively stepped back in disgust. I later discovered the mistress had bribed the hospital to swap the registry numbers, stealing my daughter's marrow for her own child. When I demanded a divorce, my husband laughed in my face. "You haven't worked a day in four years. You're a purchased asset. You don't get to walk away." He threatened to freeze my accounts, assuming I would be starving on the streets and begging to come back. His family and the mistress publicly mocked my background, waiting for me to be utterly humiliated. They thought I was just a useless, penniless housewife who relied entirely on his last name to survive. They didn't know I never needed a single cent of his money. I packed my bags, took my daughter, and made a single phone call. Three days later, at his family's elite banquet, my husband waited to see me beg. Instead, the most powerful corporate magnate in North America walked right past him, bowed to me at a perfect ninety-degree angle, and spoke. "Welcome back to the throne, Madam."
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Chapter 4

Calleigh dragged a heavy, black suitcase out from the very back of the walk-in closet. It was covered in a thin layer of dust.

She unzipped it and began pulling clothes from her side of the closet. She bypassed the silk dresses, the designer coats, and the diamond jewelry Hakeem had bought her. She grabbed her old cotton t-shirts, faded jeans, and comfortable sweaters, shoving them into the bag.

She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser. Hidden beneath a stack of winter scarves was a thick, leather-bound sketchbook. The edges of the pages were yellowed.

Calleigh pulled it out. She ran her thumb over the cover. Embossed in the bottom right corner was a single word: Vianna.

Her chest tightened, but this time, it wasn't from pain. It was a spark. A tiny, hot ember of life waking up in her veins.

She grabbed her cell phone and scrolled to the very bottom of her contacts. She tapped a foreign number she hadn't called in three years.

It rang twice before a loud, booming voice answered.

"Calleigh? Is that you? God in heaven, I thought you died!"

"Gusta," Calleigh said, her voice steadying for the first time in days. "Are you still looking for a Chief Designer for the North American branch?"

The President of Aura Group let out a massive laugh that crackled through the speaker. "For Vianna? I have kept that seat empty for you for three years. Are you finally ready to come back to the living?"

"Yes," Calleigh said, her grip on the sketchbook tightening. "I'm ready."

"Perfect. I'll have Cliff assemble the North American launch team tomorrow and present you with the strategy by the end of the week."

Calleigh hung up the phone. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but the dead, hollow look was gone.

She walked into the nursery. Lily was fast asleep, her breathing shallow. Calleigh gently shook her shoulder.

Lily blinked her eyes open, rubbing them with her small fists. "Mommy? Where are we going?"

Calleigh pulled a thick winter coat over Lily's pajamas. "We're going to a new home, baby."

Lily looked toward the bedroom door, her brow furrowing. "But... what if Daddy can't find us?"

Calleigh felt a sharp ache in her ribs. She smoothed down Lily's beanie. "He's too busy, sweetie. He won't look for us."

Before the sun came up, Calleigh and Lily walked out of the penthouse, dragging the single black suitcase behind them.

Across the city, in the VIP ward of Mount Sinai, the room was dark except for the glow of a cell phone screen.

Erlinda sat in the chair next to Chloe's bed. She stared at the screen, reading the text Hakeem had just sent her: Going to sleep in the guest room. Calleigh is being impossible. I'll see you tomorrow.

Erlinda smiled. She reached up and lightly traced her collarbone with her index finger.

Her mind flashed back to the envelope of cash she had handed to Dr. Evans' assistant two days ago. The assistant had logged into the registry system and swapped Lily's identification number with Chloe's.

Calleigh is so stupid, Erlinda thought, a cold smirk playing on her lips. She can't even protect her own daughter's marrow.

Hakeem should be grateful I handled it so cleanly. He gets to play the hero for my daughter without getting his own hands dirty. As for Calleigh... well, some people are just born unlucky. He'll never tell her the truth.

She typed a reply to Hakeem: I'm so sorry she doesn't understand you like I do. Rest well. Chloe and I are dreaming of you.

She hit send. She looked out the hospital window at the glittering skyline of Manhattan. Soon, all of it would be hers.

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