When My Ex Begged Forgiveness, I Was Buying His Company Chapter 02
The day I was discharged, New York was hammered by
a freak torrential downpour.
I hadn’t fully recovered from the miscarriage; my body
was so weak I could barely stand unassisted.
Without so much as asking, Ethan’s bodyguards lifted
me from the hospital bed, settled me into a wheelchair, and wheeled me straight into his
bulletproof Maybach.
“There are too many paparazzi lingering around the hospital. We’ll head back to Hillside Mansion so you
can heal in peace.”
That was the only sentence he spoke during the entire
ride, before burying his head in emails pulled up on his
tablet.
The car fell silent save for the monotonous swish of
windshield wipers slicing through rain. I leaned back
against the leather seat, watching the city skyline blur
through rain–streaked glass.
When we pulled through the mansion gates and
stepped inside, I froze in the entryway.
The entire living room had been gutted and rearranged
overnight.
The baby playpen I’d set up beside the floor–to–ceiling
windows was gone without a trace.
The soft yellow nursery wallpaper with its whimsical
animal prints—the pattern I’d spent hours choosing-
had been stripped clean, replaced with cold, sterile
gray paint.
Even the faint sweet milk scent that used to hang thick
in every room had been drowned out by cloying,
expensive designer home fragrance.
“Mr. Howard ordered all unnecessary baby items
cleared out.” The household butler kept his gaze fixed
to the floor, too ashamed to meet my eyes.
Ethan shrugged off his suit jacket and passed it to a
waiting maid, then walked toward me carrying a
woven wicker basket.
Nestled inside was a one–month–old purebred Samoyed puppy, whimpering softly, a fluffy ball of
white fur.
“A friend sent this over–champion bloodline,
imported at great cost.” He pressed the basket into my arms, voice flat and emotionless. “What’s lost is gone
for good; you have to move forward. This pup can fill
that void. You can spend all your days training him
here at the house.”
I glanced down at the puppy curled against my chest.
Its warm little tongue darted out to lick my palm, a
faint tickle spreading across my skin.
I didn’t hurl the basket away, nor did I demand to know why every trace of my child had been erased overnight.
I simply clutched the wicker handle tight and turned to trudge up the grand staircase without a single word.
When I pushed open our master bedroom door, I found Ava standing at my vanity counter, dressed in silk loungewear, twisting the cap off one of my medication bottles.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Howard.” Ava spun around, wearing a polished, practiced smile. “Mr. Howard worried your mood swings would hinder your physical recovery, so he’s arranged for me to stay in the guest suite to provide round–the–clock mental health
support.”
She stepped forward, reaching to take the puppy
basket from my grasp.
I sidestepped her advance and sank onto the edge of the king–sized bed.
“Did you rewrite all my meal plans too?” My gaze drifted to the nightstand, where multiple bottles of
pills sat waiting.
“I did.” Ava pushed her glasses up again. “These are prescription–grade sedatives formulated to stabilize your nerves. You can stop taking all those prenatal supplements you were on before–there’s no pregnancy left to support anymore.”
I grabbed the pills without hesitation and swallowed
every dose down in one go.
Bitter chemical taste flooded my mouth, burning a raw
path straight down my throat to my empty stomach.
Ava’s lips tugged upward in a satisfied smile, then she
turned and left the bedroom.
For the days that followed, I lived like a caged pet, meticulously monitored and controlled at every turn.
Ethan came home sharp on schedule each evening. He’d bring home rare pink diamond necklaces worth millions, fly in award–winning private chefs to prepare the French cuisine I’d once loved more than anything.
He tried to patch over his crippling guilt and quiet
panic with endless material luxury.
At dinner, he piled every dish on my plate nonstop. “Eat more you’ve wasted away these past weeks.”
His eyes locked onto mine, overflowing with what
looked like sincere adoration.
If I hadn’t heard his cold, unforgiving words on the dashcam recording, I might’ve truly believed he was a grieving father broken by our loss.
I chewed mechanically at the food on my plate, every
bite tasteless, like chewing on dry cardboard.
Ethan’s cell phone buzzed against the dining table. He glanced at the caller ID, hit decline without a second thought, and flipped the phone face–down.
“Just trivial corporate business; nothing worth our attention tonight.” He offered me a hollow smile.
I lowered my lashes to stare at the vegetables in my dish.
I knew exactly who’d been calling–Silas.
The Quinn family’s cash flow had completely collapsed; they were begging every wealthy contact in
the city for emergency investments.
Ethan had secretly cut off every financial lifeline to the
Quinns, determined to drive Silas straight into bankruptcy.
He thought I cared whether Silas survived or crashed and burned. The truth was, I couldn’t have cared less.
I could barely summon the energy to care about my
own broken body, let alone a man who’d discarded me
without remorse years prior.
After dinner, Ava brought over the same batch of heavy
sedative calming pills each night.
As I reached out to take them, my peripheral vision caught the flashing red and blue police lights flickering through the floor–to–ceiling windows, cutting through the pouring rain outside the mansion’s iron front gate.