img Too Late, Mr. Billionaire  /  Chapter 1 | 7.14%
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Reading History

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1114    |    Released on: 09/06/2025

lives in New York City were anything but quaint. I married Michael, the charismatic financial analyst with a smile that could charm a snake. Jessica, my older, more flamboyant siste

were living a dream, two sisters,

ly, my parents' attention always drifting towards Jessica, the one who sparkled, even if her aspirations as a social media influencer never quite took off. Michae

in the vast, empty spaces his death left behind. Jessica was a widow, young and tragically beautiful in her grief. The news arrived like a physical blow, knocking the air from our lungs,

East Side. Jessica was already there, pale and tear-streaked, looking fragile in a black dress that seemed to swallow her. Carol, a wo

on her surviving son, "David is gone.

red to Jessica,

egacy... it cannot end with him. Michae

ace. My hands went cold. I looked at Michael, expecting him to explode, to denounce his mother'

ther, to this family. It's the only way to ensure David's name lives on,

en signal. She had always favored Jessica, always seen me as the less deserving,

lost everything. David was her world. She needs this. This child would be a comfort, a piece of David to hold

red duty. My mother framed it as sisterly sacrifice. I fel

nter stage. My parents, Linda and my father, always seemed to have a limited supply of affection, and Jessica got the lion's share. I built walls aroun

s woman in the world. He'd made me believe I was finally, truly loved, validated in a way my

horror. In front of his mother and mine, he stood tall

nation, "what you're suggesting is... archaic. It's disrespectful

lt, not before his mother, but in a general ge

do anything for him, for his memory. And I will support Jessica in a

me close. "My loya

ent it almost brought me to tears. He was defending

tarted calling it in my head, seemed to have been dropped. Michael was attentive, loving, constantly reassuring me th

ds the kitchen, I heard sounds. Muffled sounds. Coming from the guest

r. The door was

rd were not of grief, but of something else entirely. The man who had knelt and pledged his loyalty to me, the man who had made me feel cherished, was in bed with m

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