Tragedy of the African Cinderella BlackBook 3
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Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.
Chapter 1 No.1
ANYA POV:
When I was lying in the operating room with postpartum hemorrhage and in urgent need of a family consent form during emergency situations, the thirteen phone calls I made to my husband with my last strength were not worth one tenth of the hockey stick in his hand.
The operating room was in chaos. The monitor screamed and the nurses ran around.
After a day and a night of childbirth, my body was exhausted. Every pulse took away warm, sticky blood and slipped away from me quietly. I knew I was going to die. I could feel it.
Two years of marriage, and I should have known. I was just a prop he married to satisfy his family.
But for the sake of my unborn child, I continued to make one last effort.
This was the thirteenth time I had called him.
Waiting in agony, I heard the call connect.
But it wasn't his voice. It was his assistant's, crisp and professional. "Mr. Knight is in a critical strategy meeting before tonight's game, Mrs. Knight."
My voice was so weak I could barely hear it. "Please, let me say something to him, just once...... Maybe after today, he won't have to answer my calls anymore."
A moment of silence. Then, I heard Keenan's voice, laced with irritation. The background noise was unmistakable-the sharp tap of hockey sticks on a locker room floor.
"Anya, what trick are you playing now? Didn't I tell you every pre-game meeting is crucial?"
My eyes were blurred with tears. "Keenan, I know you always wanted me to sign that divorce agreement. Now I agree to your request. As long as you come to the hospital—"
He cut me off, his tone brutal. "Giving birth is a woman's job. You have doctors and nurses for that. Don't bother me with this stuff. You can't afford to be responsible for messing with the team's focus."
Just as I was about to speak again and beg for help, another voice. Sweet, familiar, and dripping with poison. "Keenan, the competition is about to start. Don't let irrelevant people upset you. Come try the energy drink I made for you."
The daughter of my adoptive family, Kinley Hayes.
Keenan's voice instantly softened. "Okay, babe."
The line went dead.
I let the phone slip from my numb fingers. Tears mixed with the sweat on my face.
I gave up the struggle, and numbly closed my eyes.
But nurse Miller suddenly rushed in. "Dr. Sinclair! The mother's family has just signed the consent form. We're ready for the operation!"
When I heard these words, my eyes, which I had just closed, slowly opened again.
My adoptive parents?
No, they would rather have me die than let this happen. I couldn't help but wonder whether maybe the family of one of their patients signed the wrong form.
But I no longer had the time to care about these things. The darkness had blinded my eyes.
When I opened my eyes once again, I found myself in a regular ward. Two small, transparent baby beds were placed beside my bed.
Through the clear plastic, I saw two tiny, wrinkled beings. One slept peacefully, the other waved a minuscule fist in the air. So small. So fragile.
My children… they are all alive. I am also alive.
Tears flowed from my eyes as I stretched out my trembling hand, pressing my fingers against the smooth plastic surface of the baby cribs, as if I could feel their warmth through them.
At that moment, I suddenly remembered the person who signed the informed consent form for the emergency treatment.
Just as I was about to call the nurse to ask about this matter, the TV on the wall flashed briefly. Someone must have changed the channel. Live sports news began to play in the room.
"Keenan Knight leads his team to a stunning victory tonight! The star player delivered an unforgettable performance, securing their place in the finals!"
My eyes snapped open.
On the screen, Keenan stands in the middle of the rink, arms raised in triumph. The crowd roars behind him. His face is all smiles—the same face that had called me a trick just hours ago.
And then the camera panned.
Kinley was there, at his side, clinging to his arm. Her head leaned against his shoulder. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed.
The news anchor's voice continued, "And it looks like the victory isn't the only good news for Knight tonight! Rumors are swirling that he and his long-time girlfriend, influencer Kinley Hayes, are getting closer to making things official. Wedding bells might be ringing soon for this golden couple!"
Golden couple. Long-time girlfriend. Wedding bells.
My chest hurts terribly. But I swallowed the pain back down. I looked at my child again… I couldn't collapse now.
In this crowded ward, there were two other beds. Both of these beds were surrounded by family members. The husband held the wife's hand. The mothers were busy taking care of the newborns. The grandparents laughed as they watched the babies. The room was filled with conversations, laughter, and expressions of love.
My corner was completely silent. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, trying to ignore all this chaos.
"Look, that's the woman who married Keenan Knight. I heard she's just an adopted daughter with no background."
"Her husband didn't even show up for the birth. Tsk, tsk. Being a rich man's wife isn't easy."
"I heard Keenan's real love is her influencer sister. This marriage is probably about to end."
"She's so pathetic. A Puck Bunny who thought she could climb the ladder, only to get kicked off."
I clenched the blanket, my nails digging into my palm. That was what they thought of me. I didn't marry him for his fame or his money.
The malicious speculation was a physical pain, worse than the tearing of childbirth. Humiliation and grief made it hard to breathe.
As I turned my head, my two babies were snoring softly beside me. They were my only comfort in this world.
I gently took my daughter's tiny hand.
This one-woman show was over. For my children, I had to leave him.
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