Reborn To Ruin My Billionaire Husband

Alina POV "Mrs. Blackwood, the car is waiting." I barely heard my assistant's voice over the thundering of my own heartbeat. My fingers trembled as they clutched the small plastic stick hidden in my purse, two pink lines that had finally, finally appeared after three years of disappointment. "Cancel it," I said, my voice breathless with excitement. "I'm driving myself home." The charity gala could survive without me for one evening. This news couldn't wait. After countless doctor appointments, failed treatments, and Damien's growing coldness each month I wasn't pregnant, I finally had something to make him smile. Something to make him love me again. I practically flew to the wine shop on Fifth Avenue, the one where Damien bought that bottle of Château Margaux on our wedding night. My hands shook as I pointed to the same vintage, watching the clerk wrap it in elegant black paper with gold ribbon. Six hundred dollars I didn't think twice about spending. What was money compared to saving my marriage? The drive home felt eternal. I rehearsed the words in my head. Damien, we're going to be parents. No, too simple. I have a surprise for you. Too vague. Maybe I'd just show him the test, watch his gray eyes light up the way they used to when he looked at me. Our penthouse loomed above the city skyline, all glass and steel and cold modern architecture that Damien had chosen. I'd wanted something warmer, cozier. But I'd learned to swallow my preferences, to mold myself into the wife he needed. Tonight, it would all be worth it. I slipped my key into the lock as quietly as possible, a giddy smile spreading across my face. The foyer was dim, just the soft glow of ambient lighting. I set the wine bottle on the marble console table and kicked off my heels, wincing at the relief. My feet had been killing me all evening, though now I knew why, pregnancy symptoms I'd mistaken for stress. That's when I heard it. A sound that made my blood run cold. A moan. Low and guttural, coming from upstairs. From our bedroom. My first thought was that Damien was hurt. He'd been having headaches lately, stress from the merger. I grabbed the bannister and rushed up the curved staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Damien?" I called out. "Are you okay?" Another sound. This time unmistakably... No. It couldn't be. My hand found the bedroom door handle. It was slightly ajar, warm light spilling through the crack. I should have turned around. I should have known. But some terrible, inevitable force pushed that door open. The scene before me shattered my entire world into a million jagged pieces. Damien. My husband. The man I'd loved since I was twenty-three years old. He was on our bed, our marital bed with the white silk sheets I'd picked out and he wasn't alone. Beneath him, her red hair splayed across my pillow, was Selena. My sister. My blood sister. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. His hands were tangled in her hair. They were moving together in a rhythm that spoke of familiarity, of practice, of something that had been happening for far longer than this single moment. She was wearing my robe. The ivory silk one Damien had given me last Christmas. Time stopped. My lungs forgot how to breathe. The pregnancy test slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor, rolling across the room. They heard it.They both turned to look at me. And then, God help me, they didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Damien pulled away from Selena slowly, deliberately. He didn't scramble for clothes or stammer apologies. He simply sat back on his heels, completely naked, and stared at me with those cold gray eyes that I'd once thought held depth. "Alina," he said flatly. "You're home early." That was it. That was all he said. Selena propped herself up on her elbows, her lips, swollen and red, curling into a smile that made my stomach turn. "Oh, this is awkward." She didn't sound awkward. She sounded triumphant. "What..." The word scraped out of my throat like broken glass. "What are you doing?" Damien stood up, utterly shameless in his nudity. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, my floor, my home and pulled them on with maddening casualness. "What does it look like I'm doing, Alina?" His voice was laced with contempt. "I'm f*****g a real woman. Something you've never been capable of being." The cruelty in his words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled backward, my shoulder hitting the doorframe. "Damien, I, we're married. I love you. I've done everything.." "Everything?" He laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls. "You've done nothing but disappoint me for three years. Three years of trying to get you pregnant, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. Because you're broken, Alina. Barren. Useless." Each word was a knife twisting deeper into my chest. Selena sat up now, pulling my robe tighter around herself. The sight of her wearing it made me want to vomit. "Come on, sis," she purred, examining her nails. "Did you really think someone like Damien would stay satisfied with someone like you? You're so... pathetic. Always trying so hard to please everyone. It's exhausting to watch." "Selena, you're my sister.." "Half-sister," she corrected sharply. "We share a father, not a life. You got everything handed to you, the company inheritance, the trust fund, the perfect husband and you couldn't even keep him interested." Damien moved closer to me, and I instinctively backed away. He'd never hit me, but the rage in his eyes made me uncertain of everything I thought I knew about him. "You want to know the truth, Alina?" He towered over me, his six-foot frame suddenly menacing. "I never loved you. I married you for your father's connections, for the merger with Blackwood Industries. You were a means to an end. And now that the deal is done..." He shrugged. "You're just a burden." My knees weakened. I grabbed for the wall to steady myself, but my vision was already blurring with tears. "But I'm pregnant," I whispered, the words barely audible. "Damien, I'm pregnant. The test, it's right there." His eyes flicked down to the white plastic stick lying near his foot. For a moment, just one brief, desperate moment, I thought I saw something flicker across his face. Then he lifted his foot and crushed it under his heel. The crack of plastic breaking echoed like a gunshot. "Even if that were true," he said coldly, "I wouldn't want it. Not from you." The room tilted. My chest felt like it was caving in. A sharp, searing pain tore through my abdomen, so sudden and violent that I gasped. "Damien.." I reached for him instinctively, but he stepped back in disgust. "Security," he said into his phone, which had materialized in his hand. "Get to the penthouse. I need someone removed from the premises." "What? No—Damien, please—" The pain intensified. I looked down and saw it, blood, dark and terrifying, seeping through my dress, running down my legs. "Oh God," I breathed. "No, no, no.." My baby. Our baby. I collapsed to my knees just as two security guards appeared in the doorway. Through the haze of agony, I heard Damien's voice, distant and merciless. "Get her out of my house." As rough hands grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the bedroom where my marriage had died, the last thing I saw was Selena, still wearing my robe, smiling..