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“Stop faking, get up and clean the mess!” my mother yelled, stepping over me while I lay bleeding, 8 months pregnant after my sister pushed me. All I wanted was to protect my unborn child, but they called me dramatic. I stayed completely silent, letting them pack their bags for my husband’s multi-million dollar gala that night. When my billionaire husband asked where I was, my sister smiled, “She’s trash, we left her at home.” But when they arrived at the VIP venue, security blocked them at the door, and the CEO took the mic to announce…

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touch the blood.

Her eyes were dead, black pools of fury.

“You are going to apologize to her,” she whispered, the venom palpable.

I blinked through my tears, struggling to comprehend the words.

“What?”

“You know Victoria’s emotional equilibrium is shattered from the divorce proceedings. You pushed her to the brink.”

I felt the last shreds of my sanity slipping continue reading …

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