Shattered Vows, Stolen Spotlight

Blood gushed down my thighs. I slammed into the bottom of the staircase with a sickening thud. His first love stood at the top of the landing, looking down.

She savored the gruesome spectacle of my premature hemorrhage with a smug smile.

For three years of our secret marriage, I always thought my Wall Street billionaire husband was an emotionless, celibate workaholic.

That was until the viral video of him making out with his first love inside his car broke the internet.

Lying in the stark hospital bed, I smashed the signed divorce papers and that massive diamond wedding ring right into his face. "Don't do this." He gripped my hand, his knuckles turning white and his voice shaking. "The baby needs a father." I peeled his fingers off my skin, one by one. "Save it.

I'm keeping the baby.

You're just the sperm donor." Chapter 1 Ten minutes before the video of Harrison and Felicity making out in his car broke the internet, I was standing at a press conference.

Announcing my indefinite hiatus from acting. I had just taken home the Best Actress trophy last month. My sudden retirement sent a shockwave through the room.

A sea of microphones shoved into my face. "Sloane, can you tell us the real reason you're stepping away?" "Paparazzi caught you outside an OBGYN clinic last week.

Are the pregnancy rumors true?" "Who's the father?" I tilted my chin up and offered the cameras a flawless, practiced smile.

My hand drifted to rest over the slight curve of my stomach. I opened my mouth to answer. A sudden gasp ripped through the crowd. "Look at Twitter!

Felicity's new romance just dropped!" A muscle twitched under my eye. Chaos erupted. The interview abruptly derailed as my manager, Petra, grabbed my arm and hauled me backstage.

She shoved her phone into my hand. The trending post was a short, shaky video. Through the pouring rain, the tinted window of a sleek RollsRoyce was rolled halfway down.

Felicity, draped in a plunging haute couture red silk gown, melted softly into a man's embrace. She leaned up, offering her lips.

A masculine hand, heavy with an ancestral black onyx signet ring, rested possessively flat against the curve of her waist. [ HollywoodSweetheartAndWallStreetTyrantCaughtKissing ] [ FelicityAndHarrisonLateNightRendezvous ] [ HeIsColdBloodedAndCelibateButLosesControlOnlyForHer ] The hashtags dominated the top three spots on the entertainment charts, instantly burying the news of my retirement.

Petra’s face twisted in disgust. "That little bitch.

Stealing your endorsements and scripts wasn't enough for Felicity, now she has to steal your spotlight too." She lit a cigarette, her hands shaking with rage. "Sloane, your husband is some Wall Street heavyweight, right?

Have him put out a hit on her career. I bet she wouldn't dare pull this stunt if she knew who you were married to." I stared at the floor. Silent.

The phone screen timed out, going black. It reflected a face drained of all blood. A cold knot tightened in my throat.

I forced the words out, syllable by syllable. "My husband is Harrison." The cigarette slipped from Petra's fingers and hit the tile floor.

Hardly anyone in the industry knew I was Harrison's wife. His ultrawealthy family branded me a shameless gold digger who trapped him.

They sealed all records of our marriage, locking the truth behind ironclad NDAs. Three years ago, I attended an exclusive gala.

After the dinner wrapped, a female costar handed me a glass of champagne. I drank it without a second thought. Minutes later, my limbs turned to lead.

The realization hit me like a freight train. I was drugged. I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue, tasting copper, using the sharp spike of pain to stay conscious.

When the sleazy studio boss tried to drag me away, I drove the steel heel of my stiletto straight into his skull. I shoved him off and dragged my heavy body into the empty corridor.

Stumbling blindly, I shoved open a heavy door that was slightly ajar. "Help… please." I curled into a ball in the dark corner. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped my lips.

A man stepped out of the adjoining bathroom. The heavy scent of expensive alcohol and hot steam rolled off his skin.

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over my trembling frame in the dim light. He lunged.

Hard arms snapped around me, hauling me tight against a solid chest. "Finally decided to come back?" His burning breath ghosted over the shell of my ear.

Before I could force out a single word, his mouth crashed down on mine. … The morning light burned my retinas. I blinked the sleep away and finally saw the man's face. Harrison.

The ruthless heir to a billiondollar empire. He was famously coldblooded, an absolute tyrant in the boardroom, and notoriously untouched by scandal.

But last night, he was a feral animal. I snatched up my torn clothes from the floor and bolted out the door like my life depended on it. I thought it was a onenight mistake.

A secret buried forever. But that very afternoon, Harrison stood on my doorstep.

He tossed a thick legal document and a limitless black Centurion card onto my table. "Sign this prenup. Play the part of my wife in name only.

The money on this card is your compensation." Chapter 2 On the day we signed the papers, I asked him why he chose marriage. He told me his family demanded absolute accountability.

He ruined a woman's reputation, so he had to pay the price. Back then, the corner of my mouth had ticked up. I thought Harrison was a decent man.

Becoming his wife didn't seem like the worst choice. It took until this exact second for the truth to fully click into place. Harrison didn't marry me out of some misplaced honor.

Felicity and I shared the same facial structure. He had been blackout drunk. He mistook me for her. That wild, feral night belonged to her ghost. I snapped out of the memory.

I picked up Petra's dropped cigarette. Reaching into my designer blazer, I pulled out the folded ultrasound report. I dropped both into the trash can.

Petra grabbed my wrist. "What the hell are you doing? Aren't you going to tell Harrison about the baby?" I didn't say a word.

My gaze shifted to the phone screen lighting up on the vanity. Felicity was doing a live press interview. She was still wearing that plunging red silk dress.

A heavy black onyx signet ring hung loose around her slender white wrist. I recognized it. It was Harrison's.

The sacred heirloom of the family matriarch, destined only for the woman he chose to spend his life with. Now, it sat on Felicity's hand.

The corner of my mouth twitched in a sharp, mocking arc. Felicity flashed a sickeningly sweet smile at the cameras, her fingers casually playing with the oversized onyx ring.

A reporter practically shoved a mic into her face. "Felicity, is that a gift from Mr. Harrison?" "Mhm.

It's his." Felicity bit her lower lip, playing the shy, innocent girl perfectly. "But Harrison and I are just friends right now." "Friends who kiss inside his RollsRoyce?" She nodded, her eyes welling up on cue. "It's my fault.

I was young and stubborn. We had a fight, and I left for Hollywood without a word. Please, you guys have to help me talk to him." "Tell him to stop being mad at me.

I mean, we already kissed…" Her voice trailed off. Her eyes flushed a delicate pink. The ultimate victim.

Right on cue, her fanbase and the media flooded the live chat. [ Harrison, forgive her!

You two are endgame! ] Petra screamed a string of curses next to my ear. "That shameless bitch! Does she not know Harrison is a married man?" Oh, Felicity knew.

The first blockbuster she booked after returning to the States was opposite me. One night, wrapping up on set, she cornered me in the hotel lobby. "So, Mrs.

Harrison, is married life everything you dreamed of?" Before I could process the threat, she gave me a slow, calculated smirk and walked away.

That same night, Harrison showed up at my hotel door. He was always cold, untouchable, utterly indifferent to my existence. Yet there he was.

The walls in that luxury suite were notoriously thin. I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. Harrison twisted a lock of my hair around his knuckles.

His voice was a harsh, low rasp against my throat. "Open up for me, wife." Three years of a secret marriage, and it was the first time he ever called me his wife.

The sheer dopamine hit blinded me. I thought the ice was finally thawing. I thought he was letting me in. I missed the detail that mattered most.

Felicity was staying in the suite right next door. He only touched me to make her listen. Harrison never loved me.

I realized this undeniable fact with a threemonthold fetus growing inside me.

My original plan was to walk off this press stage, drive to his corner office, and hand him the ultrasound. I was going to tell him he was going to be a father.

Instead, a tensecond viral video beat me to the punch. It ripped the expensive facade right off my counterfeit marriage. I used to think Harrison was just built out of ice.

I thought his emotional baseline was permanent zero. Today, I learned the truth. He was fully capable of losing control. Just never for me.

Chapter 3 The past three years felt like a sick joke. Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes, threatening to ruin my flawless makeup.

A pair of perfectly polished Italian leather oxfords stepped into my blurred line of sight. Harrison stood over me, his hands buried in the pockets of his custom suit.

His eyes were flat, his voice utterly devoid of inflection. "Sloane, you figured it out." I figured out why he signed that prenup. And I figured out why he never looked at me twice.

I violently wiped the dampness from my cheeks and stood up. Drawing my arm back, I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

The sharp crack echoed through the room. "Harrison, you are an absolute bastard." I stared right into his eyes. "That slap is for your faithless cheating within our marriage.

Tomorrow, my lawyer is overnighting the divorce papers to your corner office." "Get out of my sight before you make me physically sick." I booked an abortion for exactly one week later.

I didn't tell a single soul besides Petra. Especially not Harrison.

Yet, on the morning of the procedure, a towering figure blocked my path in the pristine hallway of the private clinic. Harrison stared at me in dead silence.

His gaze dropped, tracking down to the flat curve of my stomach. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" I let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Why the hell would I tell you?" "I'm the father." His tone didn't shift a single degree.

It wasn't a plea. It was a sterile statement of fact.

A sudden, hot spike of rage shot through my veins. "A cheating piece of trash doesn't get to play dad." A dark shadow crossed Harrison's face.

The muscle in his jaw jumped. "Sloane, drop the attitude." What attitude?

This VIP clinic had airtight security and zero foot traffic, but our escalating voices still drew the eyes of a passing nurse.

Not wanting to end up on Page Six, I pulled my designer sunglasses down and my mask up. A mechanical voice chimed over the intercom, calling my name. My turn.

I shoved past Harrison's chest and made a beeline for the operating room. I barely took two steps before the ground vanished from beneath my feet.

He scooped me up into his arms effortlessly. "Enough of this." Harrison locked his eyes onto mine. "Take your anger out on me. Leave the baby out of it." His grip was ironclad.

I couldn't thrash my way out of it.

I pounded my fists against his solid shoulder. "Are you out of your mind, Harrison?" "If you want an heir so badly, sign the damn papers and go knock up Felicity!

You don't get to dictate my body—" Harrison abruptly dropped me, tossing me into the plush leather backseat of his RollsRoyce.

The memory of that viral video, of him and Felicity tangled together right here in this exact spot, hit me like a physical blow. Acid churned in my stomach.

He ignored my gagging reflex. His large hand clamped around my jaw, tilting my head back, and his mouth crashed down on mine.

The metallic taste of blood instantly bloomed on my tongue. He bit down hard on my lower lip. For the first time in three years, the flawless Wall Street machine fractured.

He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, his hot breath fanning across my torn lips. "Divorce?

Don't even dream about it, Sloane." Three sharp taps on the tinted glass shattered the tension. Felicity stood outside in the freezing drizzle, looking destroyed.

Her face was ashen. She choked out a pathetic sob. "Harrison, what are you saying?" "If you won't leave her, then what does that make me?" It was late October.

A sudden, biting rain started to fall. Felicity stood stubbornly in the downpour, her soaked hair clinging to her shivering shoulders. Right on cue, she let out a delicate sneeze.

Harrison's brow furrowed. He reached for the door handle. I knew he couldn't stand seeing her suffer. I stopped him cold. "Fine. I won't file the papers.

But you have to agree to three conditions." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Felicity's fists clenching white at her sides.

I flashed a razorsharp smile. "First, we take this marriage public. Second, she issues a public apology to me and admits to being a homewrecker.

Third, the second she's done groveling, she disappears from my sight permanently." Dead silence suffocated the interior of the car.

Harrison remained motionless, offering zero response. Felicity stared at him, holding her breath like a nervous animal awaiting a verdict.

Chapter 4 Years ago, their breakup was messy. Felicity was a spoiled princess.

The second she didn't get her way, she’d throw tantrums, threaten to walk away, or ghost him completely. Harrison chased her and begged her to stay time and time again.

The final time, she threw a fit and fled the country. Harrison finally stopped playing her game. He turned around and married me.

Three years later, she knew Harrison was still obsessed with her. But she had no idea where I stood in the hierarchy of his empire. She was terrified.

Terrified he would actually agree to my terms. Terrified he would throw her away. I stared at Harrison, my voice flat. "Time's up. Do we have a deal?" Felicity panicked.

Her mask slipped, baring her fangs. She shot me a venomous glare. "Why the hell should I apologize to you?" "Haven't you heard?

In a marriage of three, the one who isn't loved is the real homewrecker. So what if you have a piece of paper with his name on it?

For the past three years, he hasn't stopped thinking about me for a single second." As if to prove her point, she raised her wrist, flaunting the heavy black onyx signet ring right in my face. "You've never even worn the matriarch's ring once.

Playing the role of his wife is a total joke." The screeching mockery drilled into my eardrums. In the past, the humiliation would have suffocated me.

But right now, I just stared at her with dead eyes. Inside my coat pocket, my thumb slid over my phone screen, pressing hard against the record button. Keep talking.

Dig your own grave. Felicity's eyes snapped to my pocket. She pointed a manicured finger at me and shrieked. "Harrison! She's recording!

The bitch is recording us!" Harrison's cold gaze locked onto mine. I stared right back. A suffocating silence stretched between us. The muscle in his jaw jumped.

He hesitated for a long, agonizing moment before he slowly held out his hand. "Give me the phone. Now." I didn't move a muscle. Felicity lunged.

She yanked the car door open and dug her claws frantically into my coat pocket. I raised my hand to slap the crazy out of her, but my arm jerked to a dead stop.

Harrison's large hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. His voice dropped into a low, rough rumble. "I'm sorry, Sloane.

I can't let you destroy her." "Her career is just taking off." Her. It was always her. He knew exactly what an audio leak would do to her pristine Hollywood reputation.

So, he made his choice. He crushed me to shield her. After scrubbing the audio file, Felicity chucked the heavy phone back at me.

The solid metal corner smashed directly into my pregnant stomach. A sharp, blinding cramp ripped through my abdomen. I gasped, sucking in a jagged breath.

Harrison’s flawless composure shattered. A flash of raw panic broke through the ice in his eyes. He leaned in, his voice tightening. "What's wrong?

Are you hurt?" He whipped his head around, snapping at Felicity. "Watch what the hell you're doing!" It was probably the first time he had ever raised his voice at her.

Felicity froze. Complete shock washed over her features. Seconds later, giant, perfectly formed tears spilled over her lashes.

The picture of ultimate heartbreak. "Harrison, I didn't mean to." Harrison ignored her.

His large, warm palm pressed over my lower stomach, rubbing gently. "Wife, does it hurt here?" The delayed title. The fake concern. It made my skin crawl. I slapped his hand away.

A pale, mocking smile stretched across my lips. "Don't touch me. You make me sick." Sick. The word hit him like a physical blow.

The panic in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a freezing, defensive wall. He straightened up, turned his back on me, and stepped out into the rain.

He pulled Felicity tightly into his chest, burying his face in her hair. His voice was a soft, coaxing murmur. "I'm sorry." "I shouldn't have yelled.

Please stop crying." Felicity sobbed harder against his custom suit. But over his broad shoulder, she shot me a wicked, triumphant smirk. Look, her eyes screamed. He still chose me.

Chapter 5 Felicity molded her soft body against Harrison's side. Her warm breath fanned across his jawline. "Harrison, I know you still want me. I messed up back then.

I shouldn't have been such a brat, running away every time we fought. Please don't be mad." "Forgive me.

Hearing you two through the wall that night… it felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Please, never do that to me again, okay?" Harrison shot a chilling glance in my direction.

As if on purpose, his large hand closed tightly over hers. "Alright. I promise." He scooped her up effortlessly and set her gently into the passenger seat.

I was kicked out of the car. Standing on the curb in the freezing rain, a total joke. As the RollsRoyce engine purred to life, Harrison rolled down his window.

His voice was absolute ice. "My family owns controlling shares in every private clinic in New York.

You can try booking an appointment anywhere you want." "Let's see which doctor dares to put you on their operating table." My blood ran cold. My feet froze to the pavement.

No wonder he tracked me down so easily today. Harrison, you ruthless bastard. The downpour turned vicious.

I stood shivering on the sidewalk for thirty minutes before Petra's black SUV finally pulled up.

Seeing me drenched to the bone and pale as a ghost, she quickly tossed a thick towel over my head and shoved a steaming cup of ginger tea into my freezing hands.

Petra eyed me nervously through the rearview mirror. "Last time you went to a public hospital for a checkup, TMZ caught you.

The internet tore you apart, calling you a trashy unwed mother.

Now you switch to a private clinic, and it turns out to be right under Harrison's thumb." "This is a complete nightmare.

What's your next move?" I scrubbed the towel fiercely through my wet hair and slumped heavily into the leather seat. I kept my mouth shut.

My phone buzzed with an explosive news alert.

Felicity just updated her Instagram: "Rekindling the flame with my first love." Attached was a photo of two hands, their fingers perfectly intertwined.

The large, masculine hand wearing the black onyx ring was unmistakably Harrison's.

The comment section was a united wall of adoration. [ Oh my god, the Hollywood princess and her billionaire first love are finally back together! ] [ A reallife Gossip Girl moment!

Talk about being in the same social class. ] [ Get married right now!

I would literally pay to fund their wedding! ] My haters instantly flooded Felicity's replies. [ Hahaha, Felicity is winning at life. Career and true love!

Meanwhile, look at Sloane, knocked up with some sugar daddy's bastard. What a cheap slut. ] Last month, at the Hollywood Film Awards.

Felicity and I went headtohead for Best Actress. The academy voted my performance superior and handed the golden statuette to me. Her rabid fanbase lost their minds.

They screamed bribery and rigged votes, branding me a total fraud. My public image plummeted off a cliff. Felicity weaponized the hate train to snatch up my luxury endorsements.

Before, I didn't care enough to fight back. But right now, my patience had officially flatlined. She kept pushing her luck, stomping all over my face again and again.

If I didn't rip her to shreds right here and now, I’d be doing myself a disservice