The Secret Savior He Threw Away
Diana slipped on the penthouse stairs, her body emptying out as she miscarried her first baby.
Gasping in a pool of her own blood, she called her husband, Curtis, begging for an ambulance.
"Stop being dramatic and call the house doctor. I don't have time for your tantrums right now."
He coldly hung up, and later forced her to put on a diamond necklace and attend a high-society dinner while she was actively losing their child.
At the party, his mother and sister publicly mocked her pale face, while Curtis watched with absolute disgust.
When she finally collapsed, he dragged her to his car, only to kick her out and abandon her on a freezing, dark highway in the middle of the night.
His mistress, Carla, had faked a panic attack and claimed she was bleeding too, so he rushed to the hospital to comfort his lover, leaving his wife to bleed out on the asphalt.
For three years, Diana had endured this hell, believing she had trapped him into marriage to save her father's dying company.
She couldn't understand how Curtis could worship a manipulative fraud who stole the credit for saving his life years ago, while treating his real wife like garbage.
But after surviving the night, Diana discovered the devastating truth: her father had willingly gone to federal prison just to buy her the protection of the Alston family name.
Stripped of her illusions, Diana signed the divorce papers, giving up every single penny.
She was done being their silent victim. It was time to remind them exactly who Diana Wilcox was.
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Chapter 7
The memory was a nightmare in high definition.
Diana watched from the corner of the office, a ghost in her own past. Authur Wilcox was sitting at his desk, a weary but peaceful smile on his face. He was packing a box of personal items, preparing to hand the reins of the company over to Davion.
"Diana," he said, looking up at the spot where she stood in the dream, though she knew he was speaking to the memory of her. "You don't have to worry anymore. The Alston name will protect you now. Davion will take care of the company. You just focus on being happy."
Before the memory of Diana could respond, the heavy oak doors of the office were kicked open.
Three men in dark suits strode in, their faces grim. Behind them, two uniformed officers filled the doorway. The logo on their jackets was unmistakable: FBI.
"Authur Wilcox?" the lead agent said, his voice clipped and professional.
Authur stood up slowly, the color draining from his face. But he didn't look surprised. He looked... resigned.
"I'm Agent Miller," the man said, stepping forward and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "You are under arrest for fraud, conspiracy, and gross negligence resulting in the collapse of the Bay Bridge project. You have the right to remain silent..."
The words faded into a dull roar in Diana's ears. The Bay Bridge project? That was a Wilcox Group project from years ago, a massive infrastructure deal that had been hailed as a triumph. She had never heard of any collapse.
"No!" the memory of Diana screamed, rushing forward. "You can't take him! He didn't do anything!"
She tried to grab the agent's arm, but she was a phantom, her hands passing right through him. She could only watch as the cold steel cuffs were snapped around her father's wrists.
Authur turned to her, his eyes calm despite the chaos. "Diana, listen to me. Don't fight this. Go home. Call Montgomery. He will take care of you."
"Dad, I won't leave you!" she cried, the tears streaming down her face.
Authur took a step toward her, the agents allowing a brief moment. "I made a choice, sweetheart. I knew this day was coming. I just needed to make sure you were safe first."
He leaned in and kissed her forehead, the cold metal of the cuffs pressing against her skin. "Be strong. I love you."
They dragged him away. Diana watched his back disappear through the door, the sound of the handcuffs clinking echoing in the silent office.
The present-day Diana, burning with fever in the penthouse bed, gasped for air. The truth was a physical blow, knocking the wind out of her.
He had known. He had known the FBI was closing in. He had known his company was going to be torn apart, his reputation destroyed. He could have used Montgomery's favor to save himself, to get the best lawyers, to make the charges disappear.
Instead, he had used it to force the Alstons to accept her. He had traded his freedom for her safety.
And Curtis... Curtis thought she was a gold digger. He thought she had manipulated her way into his family to save her father's failing business. He had no idea that her father was rotting in a federal prison cell so that she could wear this diamond necklace and sleep in this cold, empty bed.
The fever spiked, a wave of intense heat that made her skin feel like it was on fire. She thrashed on the bed, the sheets twisting around her legs like chains.
"Dad..." she moaned, her voice hoarse and broken. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
The dream finally fractured, dissolving into a meaningless swirl of heat and shadow. Diana surfaced into a groggy, sweat-soaked consciousness, the agonizing memories clinging to her like a shroud as she tossed and turned in the empty bed, completely alone.
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9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
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That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
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Her coffee mug shattered as Allie’s world imploded. Driving to the mansion, she found Kacey in silk pajamas, flaunting a massive pink diamond and, beneath it, Grayson’s grandmother’s heirloom ring – the one he’d tearfully claimed to have lost years ago.
Kacey purred, "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."
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Humiliation and rage burned out, leaving a terrifying, absolute silence. All her sacrifice and trust were a cruel, elaborate joke, orchestrated by the man she loved.
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I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
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Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
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