Abandoned XXL Wife: My Second Husband Is A Tycoon Chapter 01
The night I caught my husband cheating, the rain was freezing. He shoved me straight into it.
“Look at you. You’re overweight. Sloppy. A complete mess.” His new girlfriend’s perfume still clung to his collar. “I’m done with you.”
The door slammed behind me. The lock clicked.
I had nowhere to go. So I walked.
Two blocks. Then three.
Water soaked through my shoes until every step squished.
Then a little boy suddenly grabbed my hand. His fingers were ice-cold. His shirt was torn at the shoulder.
“Mommy, can you take me home?”
My breath caught.
Those eyes. He had the exact same eyes as my stillborn baby.
The baby I had lost this morning.
So I took him with me. The last twenty dollars I had went toward a motel that smelled like bleach and urine.
I hadn’t even been there an hour when the door didn’t just open. It was kicked clean off its hinges.
Men in black suits stormed into the room.
Then a man stepped through the doorway. Custom-made shoes. Impeccable suit. A face that showed nothing.
His eyes settled on me.
“So you’re the woman my son picked to be his stepmother?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Good. Two hundred thousand a month. We’re getting married. Today.”
…
He pulled out a black card with a gold finish and held it toward me.
I didn’t take it.
My hand slipped into my pocket.
The hospital bill was still there, folded twice. The ink had started to bleed along the creases.
$47,820.
My mother was dying in the ICU.
If payment is not received by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow, medication will be discontinued.
I had less than a dollar in my bank account.
I looked at the man.
Then I looked at the little boy.
I didn’t say no.
I just asked,
“Can I get an advance?”
Half an hour later, I dragged my broken suitcase behind the butler as we headed to the Foster estate.
The house had twelve-foot ceilings, polished marble floors, and more lights than I’d seen in weeks.
I stood just inside the foyer, dripping rainwater onto an expensive wool rug.
A dark stain spread beneath my shoes.
The butler looked at the stain.
Then at my soaked clothes.
Then at my battered suitcase.
Without a word, he handed me a clean set of pajamas.
Then he turned and walked down the long hallway.
I followed a step behind, dragging my broken suitcase over the polished floor.
“I’ll be straight with you, Ms. Vance,” he said without looking back.
“Mr. Foster is allowing you to stay here because of Young Master Charlie.”
His voice dropped.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. Mr. Foster wouldn’t give a second glance to a small-town divorcée like you.”
I hugged the pajamas against my chest.
“I understand.”
“And I know my place. I won’t cause Mr. Foster any trouble.”
The butler opened the dining room door.
Warm air washed over me.
Food covered the long table.
Roast pheasant. Butter-basted asparagus. Lobster bisque. Freshly baked brioche.
Little Charlie Foster sat in his chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“I don’t want it!” he shouted.
His plate sat untouched in front of him.
“Roast pheasant again? Lobster bisque again? Asparagus again? I hate this!”
Across from him sat Ethan Foster.
The billionaire I’d seen on magazine covers. And…
My new husband.
Right now, he was holding a spoon. His tie was loosened. His sleeves were rolled up.
He looked completely defeated.
“Charlie, buddy. Just one bite.”
He held the spoon closer.
“Come on. Just one bite of the roast.”
“No!”
Charlie turned his head away.
Ethan sighed and rubbed his temple.
“How about this? You finish your plate, and I’ll buy you a real plane this afternoon.”
Charlie shoved his plate away.
“I don’t want a plane! I want Mommy!”
The spoon clattered against the table.
Ethan finally looked toward the doorway.
His eyes landed on me. There was a warning in them.
A silent urging.
I took a deep breath and walked over, forcing a smile.
“Charlie, sweetie.”
Charlie turned toward me.
Then his dull eyes suddenly lit up.
“Mommy!”
He jumped out of his chair and ran straight to me, wrapping his little arms around my soaked legs.
Then he looked up at me with a bright, open smile.
Ethan’s cold expression changed instantly.
His gaze dropped to Charlie’s arms, wrapped tightly around my legs.
“Charlie hates being touched,” Ethan said, his voice laced with disbelief.
“He has severe psychological issues. I’ve brought in countless specialists. Not one of them could get close to him.”
“He won’t even let me hold him.”
His dark eyes lifted back to mine.
“And now he’s clinging to you like this.”
His gaze lingered on my face.
He glanced down at Charlie, then back at me.
For just a second, something flickered in his eyes. Jelousy?
His jaw tightened.
“Get him to finish that plate.”
His voice was calm. Cold. “Or you’re fired.”
My eyes widened.