When He Loved Another, I Made Him Pay

My son was taken. The ransom? One billion dollars. I thought I could pay it. I scraped together every penny, my heart hammering—only to watch the transfer fail. Not a glitch. Not chance. My account had been frozen. By her. My husband’s mistress. His secretary.

I pleaded. I screamed. I even struck her when she laughed at my desperation. But when Dominic finally appeared, he didn’t save me. He kicked me down and cradled her like she were the victim. Then came the video—my son, his tiny fingers being crushed, his cries tearing through me.

“Dominic, please! He’s your son! Save him!” I begged.

He sneered. “Not mine. Asher is my son. Yours? A bastard.”

By the time his golden boy Asher ran in, laughing about going to the amusement park, I was on the floor, broken, begging for Ethan’s life. Dominic’s men dragged me away like I was nothing.

Alone, in the dark, with the ransom timer counting down, I had one option left. One phone call. One last hope.

It rang. And a voice answered.

“Dimitri speaking.”