The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Return

Eleonora pushed open the heavy oak door of the penthouse.

The living room was dark. The only light came from the glowing tip of a cigarette. Butler sat on the edge of the leather sofa. The smoke curled around his face, hiding his expression.

Eleonora's chest felt tight. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She gripped the plastic pregnancy test in her right hand. Her palms were sweating. Two pink lines. She was pregnant.

She took a step forward. Her heels sank into the thick carpet.

"Butler?" she whispered.

He didn't move. He took another drag of his cigarette.

Eleonora forced her legs to walk toward him. She held out the pregnancy test. Her hand shook.

"I have something to tell you," she said. Her voice trembled with a fragile hope.

Butler slowly turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers. They were cold. Dead. Like looking at a stranger.

He snatched the plastic stick from her trembling fingers. He stared at the two pink lines.

A harsh, bitter laugh ripped from his throat.

He stood up. He was a full head taller than her. The air in the room suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

He backhanded the test out of her grip. It flew across the room, but his movement was so violent that his heavy signet ring caught her cheek. The metal scraped her skin, and a thin line of blood welled up on her cheekbone.

Eleonora gasped. She touched her face. Her fingers came away red.

"You cheating whore," Butler spat.

The words hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. She stumbled back.

"What?" she choked out. "No, Butler, you don't understand. That night at the hotel, I was drugged-"

He closed the distance between them in one stride. His large hand shot out and gripped her jaw. His fingers dug into her skin, pressing against the bone.

Pain shot through her face. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Whose bastard is it?" he growled. His jaw ticked. The muscles in his neck were pulled tight.

"It's yours!" she cried out. A tear spilled over her eyelashes and ran down her cheek, mixing with the blood.

Butler looked at her with pure disgust. He let go of her jaw like she was something rotting.

He turned to his leather briefcase on the coffee table. He pulled out two thick stacks of paper. He slammed them down on the glass surface. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

"Sign them," he ordered.

Eleonora looked down. Her stomach dropped. Bile rose in her throat.

The first document was a divorce agreement. The second was a medical consent form for an immediate termination of pregnancy.

Her lungs stopped working. She stared at the words termination of pregnancy.

"You want to kill our baby?" she whispered. Her vocal cords felt like sandpaper.

"It's not mine," he said. His voice was flat. Empty.

Eleonora looked at the man she loved. Her chest caved in. The hope inside her died, replaced by