The True Heiress Leaves The Billionaire

Jett kicked the door shut behind them.

He grabbed Calista by the shoulders and threw her roughly onto the hospital bed.

The cheap mattress springs shrieked under her weight. Calista curled into a tight ball, clutching her head as the room spun violently.

Jett reached back and twisted the deadbolt. The lock clicked loudly. They were completely sealed off from the outside world.

He ripped his silk tie off his neck and threw it on the floor. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He began pacing at the foot of the bed like a caged, furious animal.

"How much more damage are you going to do to this family?" Jett demanded. His voice was a low, vibrating growl.

Calista pushed her shaking arms against the mattress and forced herself to sit up.

"Did you even ask how I got this wound?" Calista asked. Her voice shook uncontrollably.

Jett stopped pacing. He looked at her with absolute disgust.

"You probably slammed your own head into a wall to play the victim," Jett sneered. "You always have to make a scene."

The words struck her like a physical blow.

The last fragile piece of her heart cracked and shattered into dust.

She stared at the man she had slept next to for three years. The tears finally spilled over, hot and fast down her cheeks.

"Bo Mckee threw me into a wall!" Calista screamed, her throat tearing with the force of it. "And Kassandra hit herself! She framed me!"

Jett lunged forward. He slammed both his hands onto the mattress on either side of her hips, trapping her. He leaned in until his face was inches from hers.

"Kassandra is terrified of her own shadow," Jett said, his voice dropping into a terrifying, hypnotic cadence. "She wouldn't hurt a fly. You are sick. Your jealousy has turned you into a lying, delusional psycho."

Calista couldn't breathe. The oxygen was gone. She was drowning in his twisted reality.

She reached out her trembling hand and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

"Check the security cameras in the hallway," she begged, sobbing. "Please, Jett. Just check the cameras."

Jett slapped her hand away.

"I am not wasting my time indulging your psychotic lies," he spat.

He stood up straight. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his leather checkbook. He clicked his pen and aggressively scribbled a string of numbers.

He ripped the check from the pad and threw it directly at her face.

The crisp paper fluttered through the air and landed on the blood-stained sheets next to her leg.

"Take that money," Jett ordered. "Go upstairs and beg Kassandra for forgiveness."

He walked toward the door and unlocked the deadbolt.

"If she doesn't forgive you by sunrise, my lawyers will send you the divorce papers," Jett said coldly. "And stay away from that doctor. Stop acting like a whore."

Calista stared down at the check.

The numbers blurred. The pain in her chest vanished, replaced by an absolute, freezing numbness.

She stopped crying. Her eyes went completely dead.

She reached down and picked up the check.

She looked Jett right in the eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she ripped the check in half.

Then she ripped it again. And again.

She opened her hand and let the torn pieces of paper fall to the floor like trash.

Jett's eyes widened in brief shock. Then, his face darkened with fury.

"You are completely insane," Jett muttered.

He stepped out of the room and slammed the heavy door shut behind him. The loud boom rattled the walls.

Calista pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face in her arms, and let out a broken, animalistic wail.