MY REJECTED TWINS AND MY BILLIONAIRE PROTECTOR

Chapter one Yolanda. The knock came just as I shifted my weight, one hand under the curve of my belly to ease the pressure of the twins. I smiled without thinking. That must be Mason. Even with the ache in my lower back and the exhaustion that never left anymore, I felt a small lift in my heart as I opened the door. It wasn’t him. A woman stood there, dressed in a soft black coat that probably cost thousands of dollars. Her hair was smooth, her makeup perfect, her posture easy. But my eyes went straight to the rounded swell of her stomach, almost the same size as mine. Instinct made my hand press protectively over my own. She looked at me for a second, calm and polite. “Are you Yolanda?” “Yes,” I said. “Can I help you?” She studied me longer this time, her gaze dropping to my belly, then to hers, then back to my face. Her voice stayed quiet. “I’m pregnant.” I managed a small, automatic smile. “Congratulations. That’s… wonderful. But I’m sorry, do I know you? Is there something you need?” She didn’t smile back. She simply looked into my eyes and said, “The baby’s father is your husband.” The air left my lungs. I stared at her. “What?” The word came out thin. I shook my head once, then again. “No. That isn’t possible. You must have the wrong house. My husband’s name is Mason. Mason Cole. You’ve mixed him up with someone else.” She remained still, waiting for me to finish. Then, still composed, she said, “My name is Barbara Wellington.” Wellington. The name landed heavy. Mason worked at the Wellington Group. He had mentioned the heiress once or twice. My throat tightened. “Wellington? Like the company? Are you… are you his boss?” “Yes.” “You’re the chairman’s daughter?” “Yes.” I let out a short, disbelieving breath. “Mason works there, yes, but he comes home to me every night. This is our house. We’ve known each other for ten years. He wouldn’t—” “We’ve been together for a year,” she said, as if stating a simple fact. A year. The memories arrived. A year ago, Mason started coming home long after midnight. He began ignoring my calls. I had told myself it was stress from work. I had told myself he was tired. I had told myself a hundred subtle lies so I wouldn’t have to look at the truth. "So for a whole year—" My voice cracked. "You've been—" "Yes." She didn't blink. "That's exactly what I've just said." I took a step back without meaning to. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’s been helping you with something at work, and you misunderstood. Mason isn’t like that. He isn’t.” Barbara reached into her bag and drew out a thin folder. She held it out. “Mason no longer loves you. He wants a divorce.” I didn’t take it at first. “Put that away. This is ridiculous. You’re standing on my doorstep telling me my husband wants a divorce? He would have talked to me.” She kept the folder extended. After a moment, I took it, mostly to make her stop holding it out like that. His signature sat at the bottom of the page. My chest locked. I couldn’t pull in a full breath. Without thinking, my free hand found the scar—the one I still touched without thinking, even now. The kidney I'd given him. The one the doctors warned me about. I'd signed the papers smiling because loving him had felt bigger than fear. Now, I couldn't remember what that felt like. “This can’t be real,” I whispered. Then louder: “Did he actually sign this? Or is this some kind of pressure from your family? Are you forcing him? Because Mason and I—we built everything together. I worked so he could finish school. He wouldn’t throw that away.” Barbara’s voice stayed even. “I thought you should hear it from me, not through lawyers.” Footsteps sounded behind me. My mother-in-law came out of the back room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her face lit up the moment she saw Barbara. “Barbara, dear. You’re here.” She stepped forward with open arms, then turned a sharp look on me. “Yolanda, why are you keeping her standing in the doorway? Offer her a seat.” I turned toward her, still holding the papers. “Mama Cordelia, wait. Please. This woman is saying things that aren’t true. She’s saying Mason—” “I’ve already bought a new apartment for Cordelia,” Barbara said, still calm. “Something comfortable. She won’t have to worry after the divorce.” Cordelia’s smile widened. She reached for Barbara’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re too kind. Truly. I’ve been telling Mason how thoughtful you are.” I stared at her. “Wait... you knew?” The words came out small. I tried again, stronger. “Mama Cordelia, you’ve known about this? All this time I’ve been cooking and cleaning and taking care of you, and you knew he had someone else?” She didn’t look at me. She kept smiling at Barbara. “I spent ten years trying,” I said, my voice shaking now. “Ten years. I treated you like the mother I never had. How could you do this to me?” Tears burned my eyes. Cordelia only patted Barbara’s hand again. I looked back at Barbara, still searching. “This isn’t happening—" Mason stepped inside. Relief hit me so hard my knees almost gave out. I didn’t think. I just ran to him. “Thank God,” I breathed and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. His shirt smelled like the office and the cold air outside. I held on tighter, tears soaking into the fabric. “Please tell them,” I begged, my voice muffled against him. “Please, Mason. Tell them they have the wrong house. Tell her she’s confused. Tell your mother this is all a mistake. Please.” I waited for his arms to come around me. For his hand to settle on the back of my head. For any small sign that the nightmare was over. Nothing. His body stayed stiff. He did not hold me. Then, his hands closed around my upper arms and shoved. The force was sudden and hard. I staggered backwards. My heel caught on the edge of the rug. My ankle twisted under me with a sharp, ugly crack of pain, and I went down. A sound tore out of my throat—half scream, half broken cry—as I hit the floor. The impact jarred through my whole body. I landed hard on my side, one arm still curled around the heavy swell of the twins, the other scraping against the wood. Pain shot up from my ankle so bright and hot it stole my breath. For a second, the room swam. I couldn’t get air. I couldn’t move. The divorce papers had flown from my hand and lay scattered near my knees. No one came. Not Mason. Not Cordelia. Not the woman in the black coat.