The Billionaire Hid Our Daughter to Break Me

I stepped out of the car to buy my daughter the ice cream she loved most.

But when I came back, the little girl in the back seat was gone.

For the next four years, I searched for her like a woman possessed. Ninety-nine times.

My mother-in-law cursed me, hated me. My own mother cried until she went blind.

And Bruno Gilbert looked at me with nothing but disgust. "If you can't find her, you'll never know a moment's peace for the rest of your life."

The hundredth search failed too. Something inside me turned to ash, and I swallowed poison.

As I slipped toward the end, I heard Bruno's voice, and the voice of the poor college girl he'd been bankrolling.

"Bruno, it's been four years. When are you going to tell Ruth Stephens that Rosie Abbott's been with you in Harborisle the whole time?"

Bruno's voice was cold as frost. "There's no rush. The day she threw her family name in my face and tried to force you out of school, the day she waved that divorce paper at me, she should have known the price."

"Until I've snapped that proud spine of hers clean through, I won't stop."

A tear slid down my cheek, and my soul drifted free, light as smoke.

Bruno. You finally got everything you wanted.

——

To stay close to whatever trace of Rosie still lingered, I had chosen to die in the room that had once been hers.

The private elevator gave a soft chime, and Bruno walked in trailing a wave of cold air.

He yanked his tie loose and swept his eyes over the vast, silent foyer.

"Ruth still isn't back? She probably swallowed some con artist's lie again. God knows what filthy backwater gutter she's gotten herself killed in this time."

Irma Finch hung off his arm like a boneless vine, laughing so hard her whole body trembled.

"How many times is that now? I've never seen a so-called high-and-mighty heiress turn out this stupid. She believes every word anyone tells her."

"Bruno, remember last time? She heard there was news about Rosie and ran off alone into the worst part of the underground black market. She nearly didn't make it out alive..."

"By the time the bodyguards found her, her clothes were half torn off and she was waving a shard of glass around like a lunatic. Who knows what those filthy men down there did to her..."

Bruno's eyes went glacial in an instant, and he shoved her away.

Irma read the room and bit off the rest, then slithered right back, looping her arms around his neck, her breath soft and sweet against him.

"Bruno, it's been so long since you came to me... I've missed you so much."

He pressed her down onto the sofa, a cruel, mocking curve pulling at his lips.

"You little minx. You really do know how to please a man better than she ever did. And you're not half so full of yourself."

"Back then, if she'd just been a little softer, a little more gracious, the title of Mrs. Gilbert was hers for the keeping.

"But no, she had to throw her fortune around, force you out of school, slam that divorce agreement in my face and dare me. Until I break that wicked pride of hers completely, what face does the Gilbert family have left?"

The sharp rip of tearing fabric cut through the quiet living room.

Expensive suit, shirt, and a long dress shredded to pieces and scattered across the floor.

In this very room, where he and I had spent our days and nights together, the two of them tangled into each other without a shred of shame.

My soul hovered in the air.

I had thought that once I was dead I would feel nothing at all. But the spot over my heart ached as though a piece had been gouged out of it, raw and alive.

Once, this man had knelt before me too, clutching my wrist and refusing to let go, his usually indifferent eyes holding back tears.

"Ruth, don't go! I was just drunk, I mistook her for a stand-in for you. I've already thrown her out. Believe me this one time. Don't talk about divorce!"

Back then I had made up my mind to leave, so right in front of me, he smashed the heirloom jade toad his family had passed down for generations, then snatched up a shard and drove it into his own throat.

The motion was fast, savage, without an ounce of regret.

I didn't even have time to stop him. I lunged forward to press down on the wound, but the blood only kept pouring, more and more.

I cried and screamed until my voice cracked, until all I had left were broken sobs.