The Billionaire's Barren Wife I Burned Our Home and Left

It was true.

Both of us had longed for a child of our own.

Now that child was gone.

Gone forever.

Because he wanted to avenge Shirley Henson.

"Chloe, I'll send her away. This time, I mean it."

His phone buzzed.

He answered it.

His expression froze.

"I'll be right there."

"Where are you going?"

I stared at him, eyes rimmed red. "Shirley. Right?"

He hesitated. "It's not her. The kid has a fever."

"What about MY child?!"

My nails dug deep into the flesh of his palms.

He paused.

Then pried my fingers open, one by one.

"I'll come back."

I pressed both hands against the cramping ache in my abdomen.

I smiled through my tears.

I didn't have a child anymore.

But he did.

Shirley did.

By the time Sheila came to see me, I had already fallen off the bed.

She rushed to help me up. "Ms. Simmons! Let me get the doctor!"

"Don't bother."

I fixed my gaze straight ahead. "Discharge me. Take me home."

I stood in front of the house Nigel and I had shared, a thick coat draped over my shoulders.

A torch in my hand.

"Ms. Simmons, are you sure you want to burn it?"

I tossed the torch onto the pile of kindling. My voice was flat.

"Yes."

Nigel had carried me through that door once.

Those beautiful memories were blinding now.

If I was leaving, I'd burn the past to ash.

"Ms. Simmons, do you want to say goodbye to Mr. Gilbert?"

"No."

The private jet was already waiting on the tarmac.

I handed her the divorce papers. "Just give him these."

The plane lifted off.

The fire still burned below.

I didn't look back.

I was never coming back.