Broken Wife, Billionaire Husband's Vengeance

My step-brother and his girlfriend ambushed me in my own penthouse, their eyes burning with a hatred I' d never seen.

They called me a thief, a whore, and accused me of trying to steal their inheritance with the "bastard child" I was carrying.

Their fists and stilettos rained down on me. A final, vicious kick to my stomach ended everything. I felt the life inside me slip away, a crimson tide staining the marble floor.

They celebrated, believing they had protected their "family honor." My desperate pleas that the baby's father was the powerful Jerimiah Mcpherson were met with scornful laughter.

"That old man can' t have kids!" they sneered.

As they bound my hands and threw me into the pool to finish the job, the door exploded inward. It was him. Jerimiah. My husband. The look on his face as he saw me, bleeding and broken, and understood what they had done to our child, was not just rage. It was the promise of a slow, agonizing hell they had just unleashed upon themselves.