My Cheating Ex Faked His Death, So I Married a Billionaire

Chapter 3 The Cheque

I fought through the dizziness and dug my nails into Daniel's wrist. "It wasn't me. Check the IP addresses. We can check it right now. Those posts online, none of them came from me."

I thought that would prove I was innocent. Once he saw the IP, he would know exactly what kind of person Sophia really was.

But Daniel let out a cold laugh.

He pulled away from me and stomped on my phone, which had fallen to the floor.

His heel ground down on it.

The screen shattered instantly.

No explanation, no chance for me to clear my name. He didn't even want to look at the evidence.

Then he pulled out his own phone and started a video call.

He turned the screen toward me.

On it was my little sister, Chloe Adams, the only family I had in the world.

She lay weak and pale in a sterile hospital room, fighting for her life against severe leukemia.

Tomorrow was her bone marrow transplant. She'd been waiting for it for three years.

I lunged for the phone.

The camera then moved.

A man in a white coat appeared on the screen, Darren Alden, Sophia's older brother.

The real doctor, Matthew Field, had been replaced by Darren.

Darren held a medical cooler in his hand.

Inside the clear case sat the bag of bone marrow, the one that was supposed to save Chloe's life.

Darren grinned at the camera, nasty and cruel. "This little bag right here? Tomorrow, it was going straight into Chloe's body."

He rattled the incubator. "So," he said, "if I emptied this into the sewer... what kind of noise do you think that would make?"

Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

That was Chloe's only chance, right there in Darren's hands.

"Give it to me." I lunged at Daniel like a madwoman.

I needed that phone back.

Two guards grabbed me by the arms, one on each side, and slammed me down onto the floor.

My cheek pressed against the cold tile.

I struggled, but I couldn't move an inch.

"Now. You're going to do exactly what I say." Daniel stared down at me from above. "Otherwise, tomorrow, you'll be claiming her body from the morgue."

I looked at the screen, at Chloe, her life hanging by a thread.

I bit down on my lip so hard it bled.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth.

Then I nodded, defeated. "Okay."

Daniel turned around and pulled something out of a bag. It was a skimpy maid outfit, practically see-through.

He threw it in my face. "Put it on."

The fabric was thin and cheap. The message was clear: humiliation.

Two strong guards stood right there in the room.

I stood there, paralyzed. Humiliation choked me like a snake.

But Chloe was in the ICU. I'd break my own teeth before I let her die.

Daniel raised his phone, impatient. His finger hovered over the end-call button.

I said, "I'll put it on."

My hands shook as I peeled off my wet clothes.

Their eyes crawled all over me, disgusting, degrading. I pulled on the maid outfit.

The fabric bit into my skin.

There was nothing left of my dignity.

"Kneel," Daniel said, then started recording on his phone.

I dropped to my knees on the hard floor.

He tossed a script in front of me. "Read it."

My voice came out hollow. Word by word, I forced it out. "I'm delusional. All the bad things posted online about Sophia are lies. I made them all up. I apologize to Sophia."

He then sent it online.

A few minutes later, the tablet in the corner started buzzing nonstop. Dozens of emails, one after another.

I received an immediate termination notice. The company was firing me over the PR disaster, blacklisting me from the entire industry permanently.

For the woman he claimed to love, Daniel had destroyed my name and my career.

The ER door swung open.

A doctor rushed in, sweat on his forehead. "Mr. Bradford, Ms. Alden is showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. She needs blood immediately. The hospital's out of Rh-negative."

Daniel's eyes snapped to me.

He knew that five years ago, when he almost bled out from a car accident, I'd given him 800 ccs of my own blood, pulling him back from the edge of death.

Daniel said, "Take hers."

The doctor glanced at me. I was weak and barely conscious.

He said, "This patient just went through a drowning and resuscitation. Forcibly drawing blood could kill her..."

Daniel cut him off, his voice cold. "She won't die. As long as she's still breathing, it's fine."

One of the guards kicked me in the back.

I hit the floor. Someone grabbed my wrist, roughly.

The thick needle, without any sterilization, pierced brutally into my vein.

Dark red blood ran through the clear tube.

One bag, then another. The blood bags were replaced again and again.

The whole world was spinning.

My limbs were freezing, and I collapsed helplessly onto the ground, finding even breathing a struggle.

I wasn't sure how much they took. Eventually, the nurse yanked the needle out.

I didn't have the strength to press down on the wound.

Blood dripped from my arm onto the tile floor.

Daniel stepped forward. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cheque, then tossed it at my face.

He said, "One hundred thousand dollars. For your trouble. Your dignity? Rotten to the core."