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The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Regret: My Tortured Ex-Wife

My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother’s dialysis treatment ends today." He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace. At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger. Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage. I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred. As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed.
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Chapter 6

Saturday at the King Plaza Mall was a nightmare of noise and consumption.

Karen was exhausted. The suit was a sauna. Her left hand cramped inside the paw of the costume.

She had brought Hoke with her. She had no choice; Mrs. Gorsky was drunk, and she couldn't leave him alone in the basement.

"Sit on that bench," she had told him. "Read your book. Don't move. I'll be right here."

Hoke was sitting on the bench near the fountain, engrossed in a thick hardcover: Introduction to Quantum Mechanics. He had stolen it from a university bookstore. He understood maybe half of it, which was impressive for a five-year-old.

A red Ferrari roared up to the curb, parking directly in the "No Parking" fire lane.

Jared Xie stepped out.

Jared was Isaiah's best friend. A playboy, a hedonist, and the only person Isaiah trusted. He tossed his keys to the valet who wasn't a valet but a terrified security guard.

"Keep it running," Jared winked.

He adjusted his sunglasses and turned toward the entrance. Then he stopped.

He saw the kid.

It wasn't just that a toddler was reading a physics textbook. It was the profile. The sharp nose. The brooding brow.

Jared took off his sunglasses. He walked closer.

Hoke sensed the shadow. He looked up, his eyes narrowing.

"You're blocking my light," Hoke said.

Jared's jaw dropped. The voice. The attitude. It was like looking at a miniature Isaiah King.

"Kid," Jared said, crouching down. "Where's your mom?"

Hoke pointed at the giant bear handing out flyers.

Jared looked at the bear. The bear was taking a break, lifting the heavy head off to take a sip of water.

Karen's back was to Jared. Her chestnut hair spilled out, matted with sweat. She wiped her neck with a towel.

Jared knew that hair. He had seen it at a thousand dinners, a thousand parties.

Karen?

Karen sensed eyes on her. It was the prey instinct she had developed in prison. She slammed the bear head back on, spinning around.

But Jared had seen enough.

He pulled out his phone. He snapped a photo of Hoke. Zoomed in on the face.

Click.

Hoke heard the shutter sound. He glared at Jared. "That's rude."

Jared ignored him. He was typing furiously. He sent the photo to Isaiah.

Message: [Image Attachment] Dude. Are you sitting down? I think I found a mini-you. And you won't believe who the mother bear is.

KING TOWER - BOARDROOM

Isaiah's phone buzzed against the mahogany table.

He ignored it. He was in the middle of firing a VP of Marketing.

It buzzed again. And again.

Annoyed, Isaiah flipped it over.

The screen lit up with the photo.

The world stopped. The sound of the VP begging for his job faded into static.

Isaiah stared at the boy. It was like looking into a mirror from thirty years ago. The eyes. His eyes.

He stood up. The chair crashed backward.

"Meeting adjourned," he said. His voice was ice.

He walked out, dialing Jared.

"Where?" Isaiah demanded.

"Main entrance. King Plaza. They're leaving, Isaiah. She saw me."

"Don't let them leave!" Isaiah roared, sprinting toward the elevator. "Stall them!"

"She's fast for a bear," Jared said.

Back at the mall, Karen grabbed Hoke's hand. She didn't wait to change. She didn't wait for her pay. She ran.

She dragged Hoke through the subway turnstiles, her bear suit bulky and awkward. People stared. Kids laughed.

"Mommy, why are we running?" Hoke panted, clutching his book.

"Bad man," Karen gasped. "The bad man found us."

They squeezed onto a train just as the doors closed.

Jared reached the platform a second too late. He watched the train pull away, the bear staring back at him through the dirty glass.

Isaiah's car screeched to a halt at the curb outside the subway station five minutes later. He jumped out, looking wild.

"Where?"

"Gone," Jared said, out of breath. "Subway. Heading towards Queens."

Isaiah looked at the photo on his phone again. His thumb traced the boy's face.

"Find them," Isaiah whispered. "Hack the city cameras. Hire every PI in the state. If that boy is mine... she stole him. She stole my son."

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