You Lost Me: The Genius Heiress's Comeback

I lay on the freezing bathroom floor, my life slipping away in crimson rivulets as I lost the baby Harrison claimed he wanted more than breath itself.

In the next room, my husband was laughing into his phone, discussing party decorations with his mistress.

When I finally dragged myself to the door to beg for help, he just stepped over me.

"Call a doctor," he sighed, annoyed. "I have to go. Brooke's flight lands in an hour."

Three days later, during a bank robbery, the gunmen held pistols to both our heads and gave Harrison a choice: save me, or save his mistress.

Harrison didn't even blink.

"Let the blonde go," he said, his voice void of emotion. "She's vital. Keep the wife. She's just insurance."

I took a bullet because of him.

But the true kill shot came when I woke up in the hospital.

The family lawyer looked at me with pity and revealed the truth: Harrison never filed our marriage license.

For three years, I wasn't his wife. I was just a prop. A clean face to front his estate while he laundered money.

Harrison thought he had won when he drugged me and put me on a rigged boat to ship me away to an asylum.

He watched from the dock as the vessel exploded into a fireball, believing his problem was incinerated.

He thinks I'm dead. He thinks he's free to rule his empire with the woman who destroyed my life.

But he forgot one thing: you can't kill a ghost.

And I'm coming back to burn his world to ash.