The Billionaire's Broken Bride

"You hurt Anna, and that wasn't enough? Now you want to destroy the Gilbert Group too?" Paul's voice dropped to a growl. "Serena Whitmore, you bitch!"

I clutched my stinging cheek, unable to speak.

It was a clumsy frame-up. A trick a child could see through.

Yet Paul chose to be blind.

I had no access to the company archives—no passwords, no clearance. How could I have stolen confidential files? But logic didn't matter to him.

He couldn't stand my presence any longer. He filed for divorce immediately, demanding I leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.

On the day I was thrown out, Anna didn't just watch me go. She had her men drag me to a fifth-floor rooftop.

She smiled as they tied me up.

She was the one who drugged me years ago to force the marriage. She framed me for her "miscarriage." She planted that USB drive in my jewelry box.

Every tragedy in my life bore her fingerprints.

"I'll remember you forever, Big Sister," she'd whispered, voice dripping with venom. "Remember how you called me the daughter of a homewrecker? Look at you now. A pitiful worm. I've played you until you have nothing left."

She leaned close, eyes dancing. "In this lifetime, you will always be the loser."

Then she pushed.

The fall didn't kill me, but it shattered me. Multiple fractures. Months of agonizing recovery. Permanent damage.

Strangers rescued me—kind souls who helped me survive when I'd lost the will to live. I fled to this small city to hide, to heal, to raise my adopted daughter.

Even now, I couldn't walk fast without limping. My hands still trembled in cold weather.

But that was the past. No point reopening old wounds.

I sat down, pulling my daughter onto my lap, and waited for Paul to leave.

He didn't move. He scanned our shabby home, his brow furrowing.

"Come back with me," he said.

He looked at the peeling paint, the worn furniture, grinding his teeth. "I dreamed of your mother recently. She blamed me for... bullying you."

He stepped closer, guilt shifting to arrogance. "Even though you've done terrible things, we grew up together. For that history, I'll take care of you. Give you a place to live."

His eyes narrowed. "But don't fantasize about threatening Anna's position. You are the past."

I smiled wearily and shook my head.

"No need. I'm satisfied with my life now. We're poor, but at least I don't have to scheme against anyone or be hated by you."

Paul stiffened. "Are you blaming me?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "How could I? It's all over, Paul. It's late. You should go."

My refusal snapped something in him. He lunged, fingers digging into my arm, dragging me toward the door.

"You're coming back with me!"

"No!" I grabbed the doorframe, knuckles white.

My daughter screamed. "Let go of Mommy!"

She ran over, tiny fists pounding his leg, but he didn't flinch. He hauled me like a madman.

Tears blurred my vision. "Paul, let me go! Stop destroying my life!"

My grip slipped. My strength was failing.

Just as he yanked me across the threshold—

Powerful hands seized Paul's collar and ripped him away.

Thud.

He hit the concrete hard.

A familiar voice roared with fury: "You beast! Get your hands off her!"