The Heiress's Revenge He Chose the Wrong Woman

The night before our wedding, Ferdinand Gilbert—the man I'd loved for six years—slid a document across the table toward me.

"Mabel's carrying my child. She'll be moving into this house. You'll relocate to the other villa."

I held my tears back by sheer force of will.

"When did this happen?"

"The night of your birthday party. I'd had too much to drink and stepped out for some air. Found Mabel outside. Someone had slipped something into her drink."

"Her eyes were glazed, half-lidded. She threw herself at me like a little wildcat. I couldn't resist."

Ferdinand's tone was flat. Casual.