He Divorced His Pregnant Wife at Her Father's Funeral — Unaware She Just Inherited a $2B Empire скачать в хорошем качестве

He Divorced His Pregnant Wife at Her Father's Funeral — Unaware She Just Inherited a $2B Empire

The February wind cut through the Oakland Cemetery like frozen knives as Sarah Mitchell stood beside her father's open grave. At eight months pregnant, her swollen belly pressed against the thin fabric of her only black dress—a cheap polyester thing she'd owned since college. Her father's casket was being lowered into the frozen ground, the mechanical whir of the pulley system cutting through the priest's final prayers. Sarah's hands trembled as she clutched her rounded stomach, feeling her daughter kick as if sensing her mother's distress. Behind her, she could hear her husband Marcus shifting his weight, checking his phone. Again. She'd noticed it during the entire service—his attention anywhere but on her grief, his jaw tight with what she'd mistaken for shared sorrow but now recognized as impatience. They'd met six years ago at a charity fundraiser where Marcus was networking for his marketing firm. Sarah had been there representing the small nonprofit where she worked, wearing a borrowed dress and feeling out of place among the city's elite. Marcus had approached her with that confident smile, made her feel like she was the only person in the room. Within a year, they were married. Within five, she was pregnant and watching her father die of cancer. Now, three days after her father had taken his last breath, everything had changed. The priest finished his blessing. Sarah stepped forward to throw the first handful of dirt onto the mahogany casket, the frozen earth hitting the wood with a hollow thud that seemed to echo in her chest. Tears streamed down her face, freezing on her cheeks in the bitter cold. She whispered goodbye to the man who'd raised her alone after her mother died, who'd worked two jobs to put her through college, who'd been so excited about becoming a grandfather. She felt Marcus's hand on her shoulder. Finally, she thought. Finally, some comfort. "Sarah, we need to talk." His voice was cold. Distant. She turned to look at him, confused by his tone at her father's graveside. Marcus was thirty-three, conventionally handsome in his tailored black suit that cost more than her monthly salary. His dark hair was perfectly styled despite the wind. His expression was completely neutral.