Please Come Back! Ex-wife

He slapped me. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Daniel hadn’t even listened to my side of the story. His ex-fiancée, the one who suddenly came back from London, was doing everything she could to tear us apart. She pretended I pushed her during some petty argument, and Daniel believed her without a second thought.

I left without taking my bags and walked out of the life we built together, too heartbroken to fight any longer.

Now, as I try to rebuild my life without him, I’m torn between the love I once had and the future I need to protect for my unborn child.

Chapter One

Tasha's POV

I sat in the quiet, sterile room of the hospital, the faint smell of antiseptic filling the air as I clutched the envelope in my hands. My heart pounded against my chest as I stared at the results. The test I had taken only a few days ago had confirmed it, but seeing the official confirmation from the hospital made it all real.

I was pregnant. One month pregnant.

A mixture of emotions swirled inside me, excitement, fear, and relief. I ran my hand over my flat stomach, imagining the life growing inside me. I was carrying Daniel’s baby. The thought made my heart swell with joy. This was the news that could change everything. After all the distance between us, after all the arguments and tension, maybe this would be what finally brought us back together.

I imagined his reaction, the way his eyes might light up when I told him he was going to be a father. Daniel, the strong, confident billionaire, heir to the Sterling family empire, with all his power and wealth, would finally have something that couldn’t be bought, a child.

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

As I left the hospital, the sun felt a little warmer on my skin, and for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to smile. I had been worried about our marriage, the way things had shifted between us since Vanessa had returned. But this baby… this was our future.

I couldn’t wait to tell him.

***

By the time I walked through the door of our lavish penthouse apartment, I felt a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this news could heal everything. Daniel was sitting in the living room, his back to me, deep in conversation on the phone. His voice was low and serious, business as usual. But there was something about seeing him there, in our home, that made me feel safe. Like everything would be okay.

I stepped forward, the envelope still clutched in my hand. "Daniel?" I called softly.

He held up a finger, signaling for me to wait. "I'll call you back," he muttered into the phone, his tone sharp. He hung up and turned to me, his expression unreadable. "What is it, Tasha? I'm in the middle