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My Cheating Husband Didn't Know I Was an Heiress Novel Cover

My Cheating Husband Didn't Know I Was an Heiress

After giving birth to a daughter, a woman faces intense hostility from her ungrateful in-laws. They greedily seize her self-funded home for her brother-in-law's wedding and demand she pay his bridal fees. When her husband sides with his instigating "adopted sister" and brands her as difficult, they assume she is an easy target. Little do they know her true identity. Reaching her breaking point, she contacts her powerful mother, a billionaire CEO, to initiate a divorce and dismantle their entire household.
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Chapter 2

I drew a slow breath and forced the anger down. "This house was bought outright by my mother. It's my premarital gift, and the deed is in my name!"

Patricia's face twisted with contempt. "So it's a gift. Once it comes over here, it belongs to the Fox family."

"What does a woman need all that property for? In the end it all goes to the sons anyway."

"Adrian is the Fox line. Giving him this house is only right, and as the woman who married into it, you should be gracious about it."

"Whether you agree or not doesn't matter. In this house, my word is law."

Homer sighed. "Rosie, why don't we... just let Adrian stay a few days?"

"They'll go looking for a place and move out once the wedding's over. We're all family. Don't make this ugly."

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

This was the man I'd married against my parents' wishes?

I was about to say something when my heart lurched.

The baby.

Nancy Lambert had been carrying her when we were discharged, but I hadn't seen her since we walked in. Not even a cry.

"Where's Nancy? Where's my baby?" Panic tore through me.

Patricia said it like it was nothing. "She took her out to the balcony for some sun!"

The midday July sun was brutal enough to peel skin. And they'd taken a newborn out onto the balcony to bake in it?

I spun and ran for the balcony, past caring about the pain in my incision.

Out there, Nancy had her hand clamped tight over the baby's mouth.

"What are you doing?" I screamed and slapped her hand away.

Nancy pulled her hand back, offhand about it. "The missus told me to build up her lung capacity. You can't pick a baby up every time she cries. Spoil her and she'll be impossible to handle."

"Too much crying wears on people anyway. Cover her mouth a little and she quiets right down."

I could have killed her. "You call smothering her building lung capacity? Do you have any idea you could suffocate her?"

Patricia came over and frowned at me. "What's a little girl being so precious about? Toughen her up young and she'll be easy to raise later."

"Besides, a girl who cries too much has no manners. All that fussing and noise is grating."

My daughter's tiny body was frighteningly hot, her lips gone purple, her breathing so faint it seemed ready to stop at any second.

I hurried to peel back the little blanket to let her cool, and found the insides of her thighs covered in pinch marks, purple and blue overlapping.

I fixed my eyes on Nancy. "Did you do this?"

Nancy dug in. "A baby's skin is delicate. A couple of touches and it goes red. That's not from pinching. Don't go blaming an honest person!"

"Then how do you explain all these marks on my daughter's legs?" I snapped. "Touch one and show me!"

Before Nancy could speak, Patricia frowned in irritation and rounded on me. "Rosemary, what are you shouting about? Nancy is a distant relative of mine. She's raised more than a dozen babies. She has far more experience than you."

"If she says it's fine, it's fine. You just gave birth, don't work yourself up. Watch out or your milk will dry up, and then the baby will suffer worse!"

Homer sounded impatient too. "Rosie, Mom just wants what's good for the baby!"

"Nancy has experience. Stop being so tense. It's better for a girl to be tough."

I held that soft little life in my arms, looked at these people in front of me, and felt something in me go cold.

I carried my daughter back to the spare room, furious, wanting to lock the door and have a moment's peace. But the lock had been removed.

When I demanded an answer, Homer shrugged it off. "Mom said she took it off for convenience."

"You've got the baby at night. Mom's afraid she won't hear her crying, this way she can come in if something's wrong."

"Besides, Adrian's fiancée wants to come look around anytime. A locked door doesn't look good. Makes you seem petty."

I was nearly out of my mind. "Look around at what? At how I breastfeed?"

"Homer, your mother tears the lock off the door and you don't say a word? You just let her run wild?"

He frowned, impatient. "It's just a lock. What's the big deal?"

"You just had a baby, can't you stop making trouble over everything? We're all family. What does it look like, keeping the door locked?"

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