Billionaire Husband Went Crazy After Ex-Wife Died
In my fifth year of marriage to Dominic, I'd become the woman all of Chicago knew as the crazy one — the mental case. Jealousy gnawed at me constantly, and my temper frayed easily, my emotions sharp and unsteady, unravelling more with each passing day.
So it only made sense when he slid a divorce agreement across the table.
"Vivian's pregnant. A Harrington heir can't be born illegitimate, and Mrs. Harrington can't be a lunatic."
"Once she's had the baby, I’ll marry you again, and you'll still be Mrs. Harrington."
I was forced to sign my name, then locked away in a private sanatorium a hundred miles from the city.
The first year, I waited with desperate hope for him to come take me home. Instead, he handed me an ultrasound report.
"Twins — a boy and a girl. Vivian's pregnant again. Just wait a little longer."
The second year, he had electric fencing installed around the sanatorium grounds.
"Harrington Corp is going public. We can't afford any slip-ups right now."
By the fifth year, he simply called to tell me to wait one more year.
He must have expected me to scream and lose control the way I always did. But this time, I just nodded calmly.
"Alright. However long it takes."
After all.
I didn't have much time left anyway.