Divorcing The CEO To Save My Baby
8.2 / 10.0
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I went to a private clinic for a routine physical, only to find out I was pregnant.
It was impossible. I took my birth control every single day. But when the doctor tested my pills, they turned out to be high-purity vitamin placebos. My billionaire husband, Denton, had been systematically replacing my medication.
Yet, on our anniversary, he brought my sister Beverly home, demanding a divorce so he could marry her. When I refused to sign a settlement that left me with nothing, he froze my accounts and blacklisted me across New York.
My own father disowned me. When an old friend offered me a job just so I could afford prenatal care, Denton launched a ruthless financial attack to bankrupt his firm.
Then, Beverly got into a car crash. Denton's bodyguards dragged me off the street and forced me into a hospital trauma room. Beverly was hemorrhaging, and I was the only blood match.
I cried and begged Denton to stop, desperately trying to protect my fragile pregnancy without exposing my baby to the monster who controlled my life.
"Please, my body can't handle this. Don't do this to me!"
But he just looked at me with pure disgust and ordered his men to strap me to the chair, forcing the needle into my vein while threatening to kill me if his mistress died.
As I dragged my bleeding, cramping body out of the hospital into the freezing snow, my last shred of hope died.
I touched my stomach and made a vow: I would disappear, and I would make them all pay.
Divorcing The CEO To Save My Baby Chapter 1
Emma sat on the cold leather sofa in the VIP waiting room of the Park Avenue clinic. Her fingers mindlessly rubbed the cold metal hardware of her Hermes Birkin bag. The friction grounded her, keeping her hands from shaking.
The heavy walnut door clicked open. Dr. Cromwell walked in, holding a secured medical file.
He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicked down, landing directly on Emma's flat stomach. The look in his eyes was heavy, complicated.
Emma noticed the shift in his gaze. Her spine stiffened instantly. The back of her neck grew cold. She swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"What is it, Doctor?" she asked, her voice tight.
Dr. Cromwell slid a blood HCG report across the polished desk. He tapped a manicured finger against a set of numbers that had skyrocketed past any normal baseline.
Emma looked down. Her vision tunneled. The word "POSITIVE" glared back at her in bold black ink.
Her brain went entirely blank. The only sound in the room was the low, steady hum of the central air conditioning.
She stood up too fast. A violent wave of dizziness hit her. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.
She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. Her knuckles turned stark white. "That's impossible," she stammered, her voice shaking. "I take my birth control pills every single day. I never miss a dose."
Dr. Cromwell set the file down gently. He removed his glasses, folding them with a quiet click.
"Mrs. Chaney, no contraceptive method is one hundred percent effective. The pill, when taken perfectly, still carries a roughly one percent failure rate per year of use." He paused, letting the words settle. "That one percent is real. It happens. And it appears it has happened to you."
Emma stared at him. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The math was cruel in its simplicity. She had done everything right. She had followed every rule. And still—still—this had found her.
"You are pregnant," Dr. Cromwell said quietly. "There is no doubt about the results."
Emma's hand moved. It was an involuntary gesture, her palm pressing flat against her lower abdomen before she even realized she was doing it. Her fingers curled inward, gripping the fabric of her blouse.
A cold, creeping dread crawled up her spine. Denton. What would Denton do when he found out? The question hit her like a physical blow. She knew the answer. She knew it with a certainty that made her stomach clench into a painful knot.
He would be furious. He would see this child not as a life, but as a trap. A scheme. Another one of her "pathetic games" to secure the Chaney name. He had told her, over and over, that this marriage had an expiration date. That she was temporary. A child would threaten everything he believed about her—everything he wanted to believe.
Dr. Cromwell watched the color drain from her face. "Mrs. Chaney, are you all right? Given the circumstances... do you need to discuss your options?"
"No," Emma whispered. The word came out before she could think. Her hand pressed harder against her stomach. "No, I don't need options."
She looked up at the doctor, and something in her expression shifted. The shock was still there, raw and bleeding at the edges. But beneath it, something else flickered to life. Something fierce.
"I'm keeping this baby," she said. Her voice cracked, but the words were solid. "But my husband cannot know. Not yet."
Dr. Cromwell's frown deepened. "Mrs. Chaney, legally I have certain obligations. But given patient confidentiality—"
"Please." Emma reached out, her fingers gripping the edge of his desk. "Our anniversary is tomorrow. I need time. I need to figure out how to tell him. Please, just give me that."
The doctor studied her for a long moment. The silence stretched thin between them. Finally, bound by strict HIPAA privacy laws, he slowly nodded. "I strongly advise you to seek appropriate support," he added quietly. "This is not a secret you can keep forever."
Ten minutes later, Emma lay flat on the examination table. The cold ultrasound gel made her shiver as it hit her bare skin.
The wand slid across her lower abdomen. On the monitor, a fuzzy, bean-sized shadow appeared in the static.
Then, the room filled with a sound. A rapid, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh echoing through the amplifier.
The moment the heartbeat hit her ears, Emma's eyes burned. Hot tears spilled over her lashes, tracking down her temples into her hair.
Her hand shook violently as she reached up, her fingertips hovering just inches from the glowing screen.
She had never felt anything like this. The sound of that tiny, impossibly fast heartbeat rewired something deep inside her. The fear was still there—the dread of Denton's reaction, the terror of what this would mean for her already crumbling marriage—but it was no longer the loudest thing in the room. That heartbeat drowned it all out.
For the first time in years, Emma felt something that had nothing to do with survival or submission. She felt like a mother.
When the exam was over, she took the paper towels from the doctor. She wiped the gel from her stomach with a gentleness she had never used before.
She took the printed ultrasound photo. She folded it carefully, treating it like fragile glass.
She unzipped the hidden inner pocket of her wool coat and slipped the photo inside, pressing it flat against her chest, right over her heart.
"Thank you, Doctor," she whispered. She turned and walked toward the door. Her steps were unsteady at first, but by the time her hand hit the doorknob, her spine was straight. She had a secret to protect now. A life to guard. And she would do whatever it took.
Emma pushed through the glass revolving doors of the clinic, meeting the biting November wind of New York head-on.
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Divorcing The CEO To Save My Baby of Contents
New Release Novels
9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.7
I was trapped in a greasy diner by my own mother.
She was forcing me to marry my abusive cousin because he had paid her twenty thousand dollars.
To escape, I used a contract marriage app and begged a complete stranger to marry me at City Hall that very day.
Ethan drove a cheap Ford and wore a plain suit. I thought he was just an ordinary guy needing a fake wife.
When my mother found out, she brought thugs to destroy my flower shop—my only home and livelihood.
To protect Ethan from her endless extortion, I shielded him and screamed that he was bankrupt and drowning in credit card debt.
My mother fled in disgust, and Ethan took me into his apartment for the night.
But out of trauma and habit, I locked my bedroom door, muttering that he must be old and desperate.
He stormed out into the freezing night, leaving me terrified that I had ruined my only lifeline.
I didn't understand why he was so furiously offended, completely unaware that my "broke" husband was actually the most ruthless billionaire in New York, and I had just trampled his massive ego.
The next morning, his face was a mask of ice as he dragged me back to City Hall to annul the marriage and get rid of me.
"Annulment. Now," he demanded.
But the clerk just popped her gum and slid a pink paper across the counter.
"State law changed. Mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period."
7.7
I trusted the wrong people in my past life.
My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die.
But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me.
In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were.
Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished.
I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt.
When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, Scarlett!"
This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go.
8.5
Sera was the obedient, spoiled Hollywood socialite of the Beaumont family, completely devoted to her fiancé, Ethan.
But her life ended in a freezing Eastern European warehouse, chained to a damp concrete floor.
Right before she died, her captors shoved the transfer documents in her face. Ethan had sold her to human traffickers to cover his massive underground gambling debts.
While she suffered in absolute hell, her adoptive mother went on national television.
She squeezed out fake tears, publicly framing Sera for stealing family funds and eloping with a secret lover.
Sera's reputation was completely destroyed, and she was left to die a miserable, agonizing death in the dark.
She didn't understand why her family treated her like a disposable piece of trash.
She understood even less how the man who promised to marry her could hand her over to monsters without a second thought.
When she opened her eyes again, the biting cold and heavy iron chains were gone.
She was back five years in the past.
She was lying on a hotel bed, her limbs heavy with date-rape drugs, while a predatory Hollywood director hovered inches from her face.
It was the exact "exclusive audition" Ethan had arranged to exploit her for the very first time.
Sera didn't scream. With lethal, practiced precision, she shattered the director's wrist and brought a heavy crystal ashtray down on his skull.
The bleeding man collapsed onto the carpet and whimpered.
"Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..."
Staring at his pathetic face, a cold, predatory smile stretched across Sera's lips.
This time, she was going to systematically dismantle their lives.
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