He Gave Our Baby To His Mistress Then I Was Reborn Chapter 06
Thinking about my last life, about Lucky and Pearl, tortured to death, their little bodies dumped in the woods for scavengers, my chest twists with pain.
Preston was their father. He stood there and watched. No mercy. No hesitation. A man like that doesn’t deserve to live.
For once, something like guilt flickers across Preston’s face.
“I didn’t think it would go that way. I thought he’d just have a rougher life. He’d still grow up.”
I laugh bitterly. Sierra was clawing her way to the top. She was going to be Mrs. Whitmore. How could she let my child live?
I turn to Richard.
“Dad. It’s clear now. I’m taking Lucky and Pearl home to the Sinclairs. The Whitmores and Sinclairs are done.”
Preston jolts upright.
“Yvonne, leave if you want. But you’re not taking my kids. They’re Whitmores. That’s not your call.”
I look at him, ice in my voice.
“Not my call? They have a father who’s less than an animal. If I hadn’t caught you, it would be Lucky’s ashes in a sewer right now.”
“You think I’d leave Lucky here for you and that whore to torture? You think the Sinclairs can’t destroy you?”
Preston’s face darkens.
“Yvonne, your family has power. But the Whitmores aren’t nothing. My father’s the wealthiest man in Boston. We’re not easy to push around.”
Before I can tell him how shameless he sounds, Richard speaks.
“Lucky is a Whitmore. He shouldn’t leave.”
I whip around, stunned. I thought Richard was better than this.
Richard smiles at me and steps closer.
“Yvonne. You don’t leave either.”
Then his face turns to steel, and he looks at his son.
“Preston. You’re the one leaving.”
Everyone freezes. Preston stares at his father, bewildered.
“Dad, are you insane? I’m your only son. Where would I go? Who inherits the company? You want the Sinclairs to swallow us whole?”
Richard snorts and gestures for Walter to bring something from the study.
A moment later, he hands a folder to Preston.
“Preston. You’re not a Whitmore. You were adopted from an orphanage.”
Margaret is already weeping. Richard puts his arm around her and begins to explain in a shaking voice. The kind of family secret that only spills out on the worst day of your life.
Years ago, Richard and Margaret had a son. On a family vacation, their only child fell from a cliff and died. Margaret’s grief nearly broke her mind.
Desperate, Richard went to an orphanage and adopted a little boy who looked a bit like their dead son.
They took Margaret and the boy overseas for a few years. When they came back, everyone assumed the child was the biological Whitmore heir. Any small differences? Well, kids change as they grow.
Preston was three when he was adopted. He never remembered his birth family. He grew up believing he was the only Whitmore heir.
Preston is on his knees now, hands trembling as he claws through the adoption papers.
“No. No. I’m the heir. I’m the only son.”
Richard’s face is streaked with tears.
“If my real son had lived, he never would’ve done something so evil. He never would’ve disgraced this family.”
Margaret sobs into his shoulder.
Finally, Richard steadies himself.
“Preston. You don’t have a shred of Whitmore decency in you. You don’t deserve to inherit anything. The adoption is void. Get out.”
Preston crumbles. He crawls forward on his knees, grabbing Richard’s leg.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. Please. Please forgive me. I’ll never do it again.”
He turns and lunges for me, wrapping his arms around my legs.
“Yvonne, I love you. I lost my mind for a minute. Sierra had nothing. I pitied her. Yvonne, please, beg him for me. I can’t lose the Whitmores.”
Sierra stirs from where she’s been unconscious. She lets out a soft, delicate whimper.
“Preston…”
She props herself up, gazing at him.
“Preston. Our baby. Our Lucky…”