Eight months after the divorce, my phone buzzed with his name. “Come to my wedding,” he said, smug as ever. “She’s pregnant—unlike you.” I froze, fingers tightening around the hospital sheet.

to repay my grandfather’s estate with maximum interest. Deprived of his wealth, his reputation, and his ego, he had crawled back to his mother’s guest house, a disgraced shell of the man who had once called me broken.

He had tried to fight for visitation rights once. But when Marcus presented the court with the history of his verbal abuse, the medical continue reading …