He Left Me for a Rich Heiress, Not Knowing I Was the Real Billionaire's Daughter

This child was destined to be a cruel joke.

When I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment after terminating the pregnancy, Ryan was already home. To my surprise, the dining table was set with several dishes. For a moment, I couldn't decipher his intentions.

When he saw me walk in, Ryan immediately plastered a smile on his face, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I made a few special dishes for you, Claire. Come on, have a taste and tell me how my cooking skills are,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a king crab leg and placing it in my bowl.

But as I stared at the food in front of me, I felt nothing—no hunger, no gratitude, only cold detachment. It didn’t take long for me to notice the obvious: these dishes weren’t cooked by him. They were takeout.

“Since when did you become a master chef?” I asked, my tone laced with sarcasm as I shot him an icy glare.

I already knew the truth, thanks to Emily’s social media post. Her gloating had told me everything. These dishes weren’t meant for me—they were the leftovers from Ryan and Emily’s extravagant meal.

In his eyes, I was worth nothing more than scraps. And he had the audacity to bring them home, as though they were a gift.

Ryan’s forced smile faltered. He finally dropped the act, letting out a small laugh.

“Well, you know I can’t cook,” he admitted, shrugging. “But you should still try them. These dishes are from the chef at the Imperial Hotel. Do you know how much they cost? You’d need thousands just to afford a meal like this.”

I smiled bitterly at his words. “Wow, Ryan. How generous of you.”

He didn’t know that my mother used to take me to the Imperial Hotel regularly when I was a child. I’d eaten there so often I’d grown tired of it.

But for Ryan, I had given up all my comforts and lived a simpler life. I even went along with his frugal habits, like the time we passed by the hotel and I mentioned how much I missed their signature lion’s head meatballs. He didn’t hesitate to dismiss the idea, saying, “It’s too expensive. We can’t afford that.”

And yet now, not only had he taken Emily there and ordered their most extravagant dishes, but he’d brought home their leftovers—food that likely still carried traces of her lipstick and saliva—for me to eat.

It was disgusting. But what truly pushed me over the edge were his next words.

Ryan looked at me, his voice softening further, as if he were delivering a heartfelt confession.

“Claire, please don’t think this means I don’t care. When I found out you were pregnant with my child, I was thrilled.”

He smiled, as if expecting me to share in his excitement. “So here’s what we’ll do. Once the company gets through this crisis, we’ll keep the baby and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and provide for you both.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You’re going to marry Emily and you still want this child? For what?”

Ryan sighed, as though I was being unreasonable. “Claire, I know how much you love me. I understand how hard it must be for you to accept the situation with the company. So, to make it up to you, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll buy you a house and I promise to visit you and the baby whenever I can.

“Claire, I truly cherish the relationship we’ve had all these years,” he said, his tone dripping with fake sincerity.

He actually thought his manipulative words would sway me. He didn’t realize that every sentence he spoke made me feel more nauseous.

Ryan wanted it all. He wanted to marry Emily to save his company while keeping me as his secret mistress. He expected me to comply with his selfish plan, thinking I’d be so blinded by love that I’d settle for his scraps.

I let out a bitter laugh. He truly didn’t understand me at all. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the document I’d been holding onto—the abortion slip.

I placed it on the table and slid it toward him. “The baby,” I said coldly, meeting his eyes, “is already gone.”