The Billionaire's Betrayal She Was the Only One

"One million eight hundred thousand dollars total. Oh, and a bracelet that wasn't worth much. I tossed it."

My whole body wouldn't stop shaking.

One million eight hundred thousand. That was every cent I'd earned during those years, working myself half to death to pay off Dennis's debts.

At my most exhausted, I'd collapsed right on the assembly line and nearly been dragged into the machinery.

When Dennis found out, he held me and couldn't stop trembling, telling me it was all his fault.

How pathetic that I'd actually patted his back and smiled, telling him I didn't blame him.

It was all a lie.

He'd been lying to me the entire time.

Beryl was still going, still talking:

"Then you got pregnant. I was so furious I wouldn't let him touch me. So he just staged the whole thing with a business partner, got you drunk until you miscarried. You don't even know that while you were unconscious in the operating room fighting for your life, he was on the phone with me, begging me not to be mad at him."

The words hit me like a blunt instrument to the skull. My vision went black.

Beryl's face twisted, her expression turning vicious as she glared at me:

"But even though he loves me that much, he still refused to divorce you and marry me!"

"You were only ever holding that over my head because Dennis felt guilty, because you went through hard times with him when he was starting out. That's all it ever was."

Then she laughed.

"What do you think would happen if Dennis found out you attacked the baby in my belly? Think he'd still feel any of that guilt for you?"

Every hair on my body stood on end. I spun around and bolted for the door.

Behind me, Beryl lifted the champagne bottle and slammed it into her own stomach, then let out a piercing scream.

"Dennis! Save me!"

The dressing room door flew open under Dennis's kick. He seized my wrist and hurled me to the ground.

His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Beryl crumpled on the floor, blood spreading out from beneath the hem of her dress.

"It wasn't me..."

My words died in my throat, strangled under his hand.

His eyes burning red, he roared at me:

"Veronica! You won't even spare a child! You make me sick!"

"You made Beryl lose her baby, so don't blame me for what I do to your dead parents."

Through my tears of horror and agony, he gave the order:

"Dig up Veronica's parents' graves. Grind the bones to dust and dump them in the sewer."

"No!"

I screamed until my voice broke:

"Dennis! You're insane! There are cameras in the dressing room! Go check! It wasn't me!"

Beryl staggered to her feet, swaying, and lurched toward the window:

"The baby's gone. What's the point of me being alive? I might as well just die!"

"Mrs. Sanchez, go ahead and frame me however you want!"

Dennis went white. He flung me aside and rushed to catch Beryl in his arms.

He stared at me, his expression carved from stone, and spoke one word at a time:

"Veronica. You've used up the last shred of feeling I had for you. You hurt the woman I love and our child. I will never let this go."

His voice dropped, cold and flat:

"Put her in jail. Tell them to take good care of her."

"I don't want her to have a single good day in there."

...

Dennis ran every red light on the way to the hospital.

He carried Beryl in his arms and burst straight into the emergency room:

"Save her! Save my child! If you can save my baby, I'll donate ten million to this hospital!"

The attending physician startled, then froze when he recognized Dennis.

"Mr. Sanchez?"

He frowned, looking from Dennis to the pale, fragile woman lying on the gurney.

Then, hesitantly, he spoke:

"Your child? Mr. Sanchez, you have necrospermia. You're infertile. What child are we talking about?"