His Valentine's Gift Was Our Daughter's Death

Synopsis

My stepdaughter had a massive allergic reaction and went into shock on Valentine's Day. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clyde Gilbert. "Clyde, it's our daughter. She's dying. Get to the ER right now!" Clyde's voice was ice-cold, laced with disgust. "Elaina Lynch, give it a rest. Stop using your ex's brat to get my attention. I'm out with Evelyn, so don't ruin my night with your drama." In his twisted mind, the little girl lying in that hospital bed was my daughter from my first marriage. He had no idea the child struggling to breathe was his own flesh and blood, the very girl he called his pride and joy. Half an hour later, his secretary, Evelyn Moore, sent me a screenshot of her latest Instagram post. It showed the two of them enjoying a romantic candlelit dinner. Clyde looked almost tender as he stroked Evelyn's tiny bump. The caption read: [Our little prince just kicked. Daddy says he's the best Valentine's gift ever.] The joke was on them. Clyde had forgotten who he was dealing with. In this marriage, I was the billionaire heiress. I called my assistant. "Tell finance to freeze every card Clyde has access to." If he wanted to play daddy with his mistress, he could pay for it himself. From that moment on, Clyde wouldn't get a single dime from the Gilbert family. Clyde had mistaken me for a brainless trophy wife who relied on him. He had forgotten one crucial detail: in Jaronville's business world, the Lynch family called the shots.