Escaping From My Ruthless Billionaire Husband

he examination table, her hands clamped

le alcohol and expensive lavender room spray, but it did

, squeezed a dollop of freezing

eped through her skin, straig

er abdomen. On the monitor mounted to the wall, a grainy black-and

nicured finger at a rapid, flickering pulse of light

itched, and a hot tear spilled over her lo

There was a l

in, his eyes glued to the medical chart in his

r argument. "Your cortisol levels are off the charts. This is a high-risk pregnancy. I

th the back of her hand. "I will.

ut of the ultrasound. Janelle's

tograph into a blank white

zippered pocket of her Hermes Birkin ba

ic's glass doors, the phone in her bag

to the pavement. She

ive assistant: Mr. Whitaker requir

at a daytime summons to the penthouse meant. It was the physic

keyboard. She typed: I'm not

hit send, a secon

ence is at zero. Do

until she tasted copper. She delet

biting wind whipping her hair across her fa

flat stomach. She had no one to call for help. Bryant's obsessive control meant his security team had compiled exhaustive do

of the Whitaker Building. She swiped her acce

. The massive living room was empty,

master bedroom. The

d shoulders flexing under his custom-tailor

caught her reflection in t

voice a low, gravelly rumble that

he doorway. Her le

today," she lied, her voice s

ked onto hers, stripping away her lie in a fracti

between them with slo

ence forced Janelle to step backward. He

round her jaw, his thumb pressing into her cheekbo

" he whispered, his breath fanning acro

humiliation leaked out, sliding over his thumb. Her

his hand from her jaw, wrapped his arm arou

e king-sized bed in the center o