The Next Three Days

In the fifth year of being Mrs. Cloud, my brother-in-law passed away. My mother, stressed by the thought of my older sister spending her youth in widowhood, wanted her to have a child with the help of my husband. I refused outright, but my protests were useless. My mother brought people to block the door, and I was left to watch helplessly as my husband and my half-sister entered the bedroom together. "She's your sister. What's the harm in letting her have him?" I thought that my husband couldn't possibly do anything with my sister since she was family. I thought he would draw the line, out of decency, out of respect. However, as time passed, my heart grew cold. Only then did I realize that I was the only one who cared about this matter. While I clutched our daughter in my arms and cried in silent devastation, he was going at it with my sister.

Creed is an ex sharpshooter turned bike crew President, with a rough upbringing and the scars to prove it. Nine years ago an old drunk offered him his twelve-year-old daughter for his next pint. Knowing that as fucked up as he was he was still the kid’s best bet, he took the deal. He left her with an aunt he thought he could trust because Uncle Sam owned his ass for the next little while, and he had no choice. Then his babygirl turned eighteen and shit went south, literally. He knew he had to stay the fuck away from her or she’d be under him before she could blink, but he made a deal with himself. When his babygirl hit twenty-one he was taking her no matter what. Her birthday was three days away and though he’d kept his distance for the last two and a half years he’s been keeping tabs on her. It was time to collect.Biker's Baby Girl is created by Jordan Silver an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

I never imagined my life would take this turn. Fresh out of high school, I thought college was my next step—until my parents' gambling debts destroyed my savings, leaving me stranded in a gap year I never planned. Now, I spend my days checking in high-profile guests at an elite country club in San Antonio, trying to rebuild my future dollar by dollar. Then he walked in. Pierce White—a man nearly three times my age, newly divorced, dangerous in the way only experience can be. He was supposed to be just another wealthy member, another name in the system. But the way he looked at me, the raw heat in his gaze, ignited something I never expected. And once we cross the line...there's no going back.

My son, Tyler, never really had his dad around growing up. Because my husband, Ethan, was a top doctor, always working late. He pulled countless patients back from the brink of death, but he misdiagnosed his own son's pneumonia as a simple cold. All because he was on the phone with his first love, Isabella, while he was supposed to be listening to Tyler's chest. That night, when Tyler's life was on the line, Ethan claimed he was in a critical surgery and hung up on me ten times. I rushed our son to the hospital, only to find out my husband was at a birthday party for Isabella and her daughter. In the dead of night, Isabella posted a photo of the three of them on Instagram. At the same time, my son, Tyler, died in the very hospital where his father worked. The next day, I held a funeral for my son all alone. Three days later, I boarded a plane out of Seattle, clutching a photo of my son. It was only then that my husband, Ethan, found out Tyler was dead, started searching for me like a madman.

My husband's brother dies before my husband and I marry. My mother-in-law has never liked me, and my husband is a mommy's boy. He listens to her when she forces him to remain in mourning for his brother—within the next three years, we can only register our marriage but not have a wedding. To help his widowed sister-in-law past these difficult times, my husband runs over to her place every few days, leaving me alone at home. Anyone who isn't in the know would think I'm the widow! My scheming sister-in-law even tells her child to address my husband as their father instead of uncle. I sneer. "How shameless of you to want your brother-in-law to care for two families at once. Thank goodness the child in my womb doesn't have such a disgusting father."

Steven Lambert claimed my mother almost killed his wife and daughter, branding me as a sinner from birth. For twenty years, he and his family tormented me in the name of atonement. I was forced into a cruel marriage with the vile Caleb Carpenter in Cindy's place, only to suffer a tragic end. Only then did the Lamberts realize I was their daughter. Yet all this time, the very existence they believed to be a sinner enjoyed their bottomless affection and adoration.

I used to be so happy with my husband, Ian Shaw, until his first love got too drunk one day and was taken away by five strange men for an entire night. To protect her reputation, he told everyone that I was the one who was kidnapped that night. Everyone criticized me, calling the baby in my belly a child of shame. I questioned Ian hysterically, but he said nonchalantly, "Ruby isn’t married yet. People will laugh at her if the news spreads." I looked icily at the man I had loved for six years, shock taking over as I realized he had probably never loved me back.

Benjamin Dylon, a mysterious billionaire abandoned at the altar Antonela Bianchi whose name she only knows. Suffering the greatest love humiliation, she goes to a bar, meets a handsome man, and gives herself completely to him. When she wakes up the next day in a hotel bed, she realizes that she has committed madness. A few days later, Antonela discovers that she is pregnant and to make matters worse, she finally meets Benjamin, discovering that the man who abandoned her at the altar is the same man she met in the bar. Pregnant and alone, rejected by her own family, Antonela has no choice but to leave so that she can have that child in peace. Three years later, when her mother suddenly passes away, Antonela is forced to return to the city and meet Benjamin again. He is now her sister’s fiancé, and Antonela must hide the fact that he is the father of her child.

The golden boy of high society once stopped a plane for me. And I? I once ran away while pregnant, disappearing for three years. We got married. Nine years later, a younger, stunning woman appeared by his side. She was vibrant and fearless, joining him in all his wild adventures. Meanwhile, I had become a stay-at-home mom, spending my days making sure our daughter didn’t eat junk food. My husband said in disappointment, “Elaine, you’re not the woman you used to be.” Even our daughter complained. “Miss Snow is smart, gorgeous, and makes her own money. But you? You just rely on my dad.” The next morning, I grabbed my ID and filed for divorce. They must have forgotten that at twenty-two, I had the guts to jump off a cliff into the ocean just to break free, and at thirty-five, I would still have the strength to start over.

For the ninth time, my wife chose to have an abortion for the sake of her ailing first love. This time, I did not stop her. Even when my grandfather flew into a fit of rage, his heart faltering as he called me a disgrace to the family, I stayed silent. The truth was that I had already decided to divorce her. In three days, I'd be leaving for Westmarch to begin my research. Until then, I have decided to grant her every wish. If she wanted me to hand over a promotion so her first love could take the credit, I gave it up without hesitation. If she wanted to bring him home to rest, I vacated the master bedroom on the spot. She beamed with satisfaction, praising me for finally learning to be "sensible." She promised that once he recovered, she would give me a child of my own. However, what she did not know was that there would be no next time.