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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 5

The morning sun cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest bedroom, hitting Hakeem directly in the eyes.

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples to fight off the dull ache of the wine from the night before. He threw off the covers and walked down the hall to the master bedroom.

He pushed the door open. The room was perfectly still. The bed was made.

Hakeem frowned. He walked into the closet and reached for a shirt. As he turned, his eyes caught the empty space on the far left rack. Calleigh's cheap, pre-marriage clothes were gone.

He pulled open the top drawer of her vanity. Her passport was missing.

Hakeem let out a sharp, mocking laugh. He yanked at the collar of his undershirt. She really thinks this will work, he thought. She's throwing a tantrum. She'll be freezing on the streets by tonight and begging to come back.

He turned his back on the empty closet and walked into the shower, turning the water to ice cold.

Miles away, in a cramped, drafty apartment in Brooklyn, Calleigh was smoothing a clean sheet over a lumpy mattress. The wallpaper in the corner was peeling, but the room was clean.

Her phone buzzed on the cheap plastic nightstand.

She picked it up. It was an alert from her banking app.

Incoming Wire Transfer: $8,000,000.00 USD.

Calleigh's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she stared at the zeros. A second later, a text message popped up from her older brother, Golden.

Hey kiddo. I just sold a minority stake in the racing team to a new investor. This is the advance. You use it first, let me know if you need more. Buy Lily something nice.

Calleigh's eyes filled with tears. She pressed her hand against her mouth. Golden was a mechanic who ran a struggling racing team. He must have emptied his entire life savings and given her every cent of his new sponsorship just to make sure she was okay.

She quickly typed back: Golden, you keep this! You need to save up to get married!

She didn't send the money back, knowing Lily's medical bills would be astronomical, but her heart swelled with gratitude.

She had no idea that at that exact moment, Golden Gilliam was sitting in a custom leather chair on the top floor of the Nexus Retail Holdings skyscraper, looking down at Wall Street with a bored expression.

Before Calleigh could put the phone down, it rang. The caller ID flashed: Adelynn Graves.

Calleigh's jaw tightened. She answered the call, holding the phone to her ear.

"Where the hell are you?" Adelynn's shrill voice blasted through the speaker. "You were supposed to be at the Long Island estate two hours ago to clean the guest rooms! Mother's birthday banquet is tomorrow!"

Calleigh didn't say a word.

"Are you deaf?" Adelynn snapped, the sound of her stiletto heels clicking sharply in the background. "You are so useless. Erlinda was here at 7 AM helping with the floral arrangements. You have no class, no background, and you can't even do basic chores."

Calleigh felt a cold, hard calm settle over her chest. The fear she used to feel around Hakeem's family was completely gone.

"If the Graves family maids aren't all dead, tell them to do it," Calleigh said, her voice dropping to a freezing monotone. "Stop bothering me."

Adelynn gasped loudly. "Excuse me? Have you lost your damn mind? How dare you speak to me like-"

"I'm divorcing your brother," Calleigh cut her off. "I'm not your servant anymore."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, hit the red end-call button, and immediately blocked the number. She tossed the phone onto the bed, picked up Lily, and walked out to find a grocery store.

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