Fireworks for His Bastard, Ashes for My Son

"They said my dad had a stroke. They said my brother's limp was real. They said losing my baby was just bad luck.

Seven years later, a phone call from the future tells me the truth: my husband staged it all. While I miscarried alone, he was rocking his mistress's newborn at a rooftop christening — with my parents smiling in the front row.

Then he renamed our company after HER.

Fine. He wants his forever-girl? He can have her. I'm taking my baby's ashes, my three million, and a one-way ticket out.