ed to the charming Izzy. We were expecting our first child, a dream come true
er, Eleanor, marrying Richard Thorne-the man who ruined my father. Beside them, Marcus Thorne, his son, holding my pregnant wife, Izzy. "How wil
ying me as unhinged. My bank accounts were frozen. Alone, broken, my father's cherished watch shattered by
crafted lie. I was cornered, stripped of everything, facing public humilia
red, like a force of nature, stepping into the clinic where I lay beaten and accused. "Mr. Ethan Moreau," she declared, silenci