Reborn Heiress: Divorcing The Ruthless Billionaire

Alondra Lang pushed the heavy oak door of the private hospital room. It was cracked open just an inch.

Her fingers gripped the handle of the insulated thermos so tightly her knuckles were white. She had spent three hours making the soup inside.

Through the narrow gap past the privacy screen, she saw Gerard Arnold. Her husband.

He was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. His large hands, the ones that usually pushed her away, were gently holding Cecil Barber's pale fingers.

"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," Cecil said. Her voice was soft, trembling with practiced fragility.

A loud ringing exploded in Alondra's ears. The sound drowned out the hum of the hospital ventilation.

Her fingers went numb. The thermos slipped from her grasp.

It hit the polished linoleum floor with a sharp, deafening crash. Hot soup splashed violently across the room and pooled on the sterile, gleaming surface.

Gerard's head snapped toward the door. The tender look in his eyes vanished the second he saw Alondra. It was replaced by a familiar, freezing disgust.

He dropped Cecil's hand and strode across the room.

Before Alondra could speak, his hand clamped down on her upper arm. His grip was brutal. He yanked her out into the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway.

Gerard shoved her away. Her back hit the cold wall.

"Don't you dare upset her," Gerard warned. His voice was a low, dangerous hiss. "She needs rest."

Alondra's chest heaved. Her throat burned as if she had swallowed glass. "What about our marriage, Gerard? Three years. What does that mean to you?"

"It was a convenience," Gerard said flatly. He adjusted his expensive silk tie. "She saved my life five years ago. I owe her. You were just a placeholder."

He turned to his assistant, who was standing a few feet away. Gerard snatched a manila folder from him and slammed it against Alondra's chest.

She reflexively caught it.

"Sign it," Gerard ordered.

Alondra looked down. The bold black letters on the top page read: Divorce Agreement.

Her stomach dropped. The air in her lungs turned to ice.

Her hands shook violently, her entire body trembling as the weight of his betrayal crushed her fragile spirit. She looked down at the bold black letters, tears spilling over her lashes and staining the crisp white paper. "Gerard, please..." she whispered, her voice breaking into a pathetic sob. She couldn't do it. She couldn't just throw away the only life she knew. When he shoved a cheap plastic pen into her trembling hand, her fingers went limp. The pen clattered to the polished floor. She didn't sign it. Instead, she let out a choked cry, turned her back on his freezing disgust, and ran blindly toward the elevator, her heart shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Ten minutes later, the Manhattan rain was soaking through her thin trench coat. The icy water plastered her hair to her cheeks.

She pulled open the door of her Porsche parked on