With trembling hands, I recorded their betrayal through the small crack in the door, then quietly turned away.
Only when I reached the car did my composure crumble.
At eighteen, the Holmes family found me and claimed I was their long-lost daughter. At first, I didn't want to return—but then, I saw Weston, their foster son, and fell hopelessly in love.
He blamed my return for driving Patricia, their "fake" daughter, out of the house.
But I never cared about her.
My adoptive father was far more powerful than the Holmes, and they only wanted me back to curry favor with him. Sending Patricia away was just a show of loyalty.
I didn't care. I only wanted Weston.
I gave him everything—my love, my loyalty, my family's influence—until he became the richest man in the city.
The billion-dollar contract in my hands would have secured his empire forever.
Now, it just felt like the cruelest joke.
After crying until my chest hurt, I wiped my tears and ripped the contract in half.
My hand moved to my belly. I could feel the faint rhythm of life within.
"Baby," I whispered softly, "since your father doesn't love you, Mommy will find you a new one."
I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number overseas.