After You Broke Me, I Became the Heiress You Can't Reach

I endured the pain, crying until I had nothing left as I said goodbye to our two babies.

Blake knelt at my bedside and drove a knife into his own flesh. Twice.

His bloodied hand trembled as it covered my eyes, and his voice came word by word against my ear. "Tessa, I swear I'll give you a good life. If I ever betray you, let me die a wretched death."

That promise carried weight. I believed it for half my life.

But now, he'd been undone so effortlessly by a woman he'd known for six months.

I couldn't understand it. A man who had loved me that fiercely—how could he just rot from the inside out?

His phone rang. The ringtone was distinctive.

It had gone off many times in the middle of the night. Blake always said it was a client.

I'd trusted him so completely that I never once questioned it.

Now I knew exactly how foolish I'd been.

He didn't answer right away. His voice was calm, the kind of calm you'd use to soothe a child throwing a tantrum.

"Why make such a fuss over a plaything? We've been together ten years. You really want to throw all of that away over a piece of paper?"

"You're not young anymore, Tessa. No parents, no job, nothing. I'm the only one willing to take care of you. Keep pushing, and even that won't last."

He pulled the car to the curb. "Take a cab home. I need to go pick up my girl. Think about what I said."

The door slammed shut like a slap across the face.

I watched the car disappear down the road, then collapsed against the curb and retched until tears streaked my entire face.

Blake was wrong about one thing. Nobody gets a marriage certificate with a plaything.

That certificate—the one I'd waited ten years for and never received.

True love doesn't change. It just finds someone else.

I stared up at the overcast sky, a hollow wind blowing straight through my chest.

After a long time, I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

When I got home, Blake's Bentley was parked right out front.

Through the cracked window, a man's breathy moans drifted out.

"Call me husband."

"Husband..."

"Who do you love most?"

"So obedient. I'd give my life for you."

I stood frozen in place, every drop of color drained from my face.

The summer sun was brutal and scorching, but I felt like I'd been plunged into a blizzard.

An hour later, Blake walked in with a petite woman draped against his side.

The moment Fiona Whitmore saw me sitting in the living room, her eyes welled up as though she'd suffered the greatest injustice of her life.

"Why is she here? You told me this was our home!"

"Were you lying to me? You still can't let her go?"

"I don't care how much I love you—I will never sell my dignity to be some mistress. I'm leaving. Right now!"

Blake scrambled to grab her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against his chest. "What are you thinking? Our marriage certificate has the official seal on it. You're my wife. Of course this is our home. She's just here to pack her things."

He looked at me. No explanation. No apology.

"Tessa, the suburban villa is quiet. Nobody around. Go stay there for a while."

My mind went blank.

Before the anger could even arrive, a dull, physical ache seized my heart.

Three years ago, when we'd moved into this house, Blake had held me in his arms with red-rimmed eyes.

"Tessa, this is our home now. You, me, and our children."

But now, the man who'd promised me a home—

Three years later, on this day, he was throwing me out of it.

"Tessa, my wife isn't happy. I don't want to say it twice."

There was a smile on his face, but the low edge of his voice carried an unmistakable warning.

My throat felt stuffed with something sodden and bitter, like waterlogged cotton.

Through the haze, it hit me: he wasn't joking.

After a long silence, under the weight of his smug certainty that he'd already won, I nodded. My voice was barely there.