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I'm Done: Sold Out for His Bastard Daughter Novel Cover

I'm Done: Sold Out for His Bastard Daughter

During a live interview, billionaire Julian White shocks his wife by announcing that his vast fortune is reserved for Rosy, the daughter of his deceased first love. He dismisses his wife as a mere glorified caretaker who would surely agree to his plan. Heartbroken after six years of devotion, she realizes she and her son, Jude, have no place in his heart or his future. Choosing self-respect over a loveless marriage, she prepares to walk away from the family forever.
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Chapter 2

"Vivi died during childbirth. She entrusted her baby to me. From now on, this child will be our adopted daughter," Julian had said.

My face drained of color. It wasn't until I forced myself to sit up that Julian finally stopped talking.

"If you can't accept this, we can divorce. I'll transfer child support to you every month for you and the baby, but that's all I can give."

That was the choice he gave me at the time. I could either endure the humiliation and raise the daughter of the woman he loved, or walk away with my premature son Jude and nothing.

I refused to accept that, so I endured it.

I had been married to him for five years. I had nearly risked my life to give birth to our child. Why should my son and I leave with nothing?

Although five years had gone by, he had never shown even the slightest tenderness toward Jude or me. It felt as though all his love had died with Vivian, and the only warmth he had left was reserved for her child.

Suddenly, it struck me that all my persistence over the years had been nothing but a ridiculous show for him. Ten years of love, resentment, and hope had quietly faded under his constant suspicion.

I held his gaze calmly. "I want to make my choice again. This time, I'm leaving with Jude."

Julian let out a soft, derisive scoff.

"Leave? Naomi, do you even have the means to support yourself and the child without me? Go back to your room. Stop embarrassing me in front of everyone."

He signaled the servants with a look, and they immediately rushed over, seizing my arms and pushing me toward the bedroom before I could react.

The door was locked from the outside.

Though the room wasn't very soundproof, I could still hear their murmurs drifting in.

"I don't know what Mrs. White thinks she's doing. She has a good life, yet she insists on making Mr. White look bad in front of the reporters."

"Isn't she just raising the child of a dead woman? She's basically a parasite living off Mr. White. Why can't she just tolerate it?"

A parasite?

When Julian and I first got together, he had nothing. I gave him all my savings to help him start his business. I stayed up all night drinking and negotiating just to land the company's first big contract. And when his work consumed him, I willingly stepped back to support him from behind the scenes.

Yet now, in everyone's eyes, I was nothing but a parasite living off him.

I slid down against the door and sank to the floor as the voices in the hallway slowly faded.

Julian pushed the door open and accidentally kicked me as he stepped inside. It didn't hurt, but it felt like a strange, sharp release.

Tears rose unbidden to my eyes. Just as I was about to let them fall, a piece of clothing landed over my head.

"Don't cry. Naomi, I remember you're pretty good at mending clothes. Fix this for me."

I pulled the garment off my head. It was a white blouse with the cuff slightly worn.

The tears froze in my eyes. I couldn't cry anymore.

A wave of humiliation washed over me so fiercely that I almost laughed.

I recognized the blouse.

There were two walk-in closets in this house. One held the clothes for the children and me. The other belonged to Julian and Vivian.

Vivian was dead, yet Julian insisted on keeping traces of someone who no longer existed in his life.

I took a deep breath and threw the blouse heavily onto the floor.

"Julian, I'm not joking with you. I've had enough of this life. We're getting a divorce," I said firmly, but Julian acted as though he hadn't heard a word.

He began unbuttoning his shirt and spread his arms. "Help me change. Hurry up. I promised Rosy I'd read her a bedtime story."

I walked up to him, but didn't move. I repeated, "I'm leaving with my child."

This time, he finally looked at me directly. The undisguised contempt in his eyes pierced through me like needles.

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