The Billionaire's Broken Vow

The sigh on the other end of the line was heavy with regret. "Have you really thought this through? After all, you once gave up everything..." I did. Despite my parents' fierce opposition—even at the cost of severing ties with them—I had abandoned my career at its absolute zenith to marry into Harbor City. Back then, John was a different man. To court me, he'd commuted between cities by helicopter every single day for three years. When the Weiss family disapproved, he stripped himself of his title as heir and followed me to Riverdale. Ignoring the ridicule of his peers, he worked construction, hauling steel pipes until his shoulders were raw, just to save enough for a diamond ring. Even when I rejected his proposal and tried to break things off, he stood outside my apartment building for a year. Rain or shine, he waited—just to catch a single glimpse of me. When I finally agreed to marry him and move to Harbor City, he bought a billion-dollar estate so I'd feel secure. When the tabloids branded me a gold digger, John stood before the cameras and declared to the world, "I was the one who begged her to marry me." After the wedding, he treated me like royalty. I thought he was different. I thought happiness would last forever. The illusion shattered on our fourth anniversary. I'd spent days preparing Buddha Jumps Over the Wall—his favorite—and brought it to his office as a surprise. Instead of celebration, I walked in to find him and his secretary naked, entwined, kissing on the couch. Something inside me snapped. I smashed everything in the office, screaming, demanding to know why. He didn't flinch. He simply held the secretary behind him, watching me unravel with cold detachment. When I was too exhausted to cry, he slid a ten-million-dollar emerald bracelet onto my wrist. "Michelle, isn't this what wealthy families are like?" His voice was devoid of warmth. "I thought you understood the terms when you married me." He looked down at me, eyes hard. "You've cut ties with your parents and abandoned your career. Other than staying by my side, where else can you go?" "Wake up. Do your job as Mrs. Weiss. I'll compensate you properly." After that, depression swallowed me whole. The world faded into silent gray. His mistresses came and went; eventually, I lost count. The "apology gifts" piled up until they filled an entire room. I went from agonizing heartbreak to sleepless nights, until finally—numbness. Just when I'd gathered the resolve to divorce him, disaster struck my father's company. My father, a proud man with a failing heart, regarded that business as his life. To save him, I accepted my mother-in-law's deal: three more years at John's side. I'd endured those three years. I should have left the moment the contract expired. But recently, on our seventh anniversary, I let my guard down. Under the influence of alcohol, I mistook the current John for the man who used to love me. That night resulted in a pregnancy—a child now gone, lost to his cruelty. "I've thought it through," I said into the phone, voice steady. I hung up just as Faith walked toward me, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hands. "Michelle, I'm sorry." Her voice dripped with faux sweetness. "I came to apologize." John had many mistresses, but few were like Faith. She wasn't just passing through—she wanted the crown. I looked at her affected expression, fighting the urge to retch. "Save your acting. You don't need to waste energy scheming against me anymore. John and I are getting a divorce." Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "That's not what I mean..." John, who had followed her in, saw her tears and his expression darkened. He snatched the teacup from her hand, strode over, and gripped my jaw, forcing my head back. I stared at the steam rising from the cup, panic seizing my chest. "No..." My voice trembled as I clawed at his hand. "John, I've trained since I was six. My voice is my life! Please—" He didn't let me finish. "Michelle, Faith is pregnant." He tipped the cup. "This is my first child." Scalding liquid poured down my throat, burning everything in its path. "I won't allow you to upset her. I won't tolerate any risks to them."

"This is the price you pay for making Faith suffer." I stared into his eyes—eyes that were once my entire world, now sharp as blades. There wasn't a trace of the man who had once loved me. I wanted to scream that I didn't do it. I wanted to demand a divorce right then and there. But the tea Faith had tricked me into drinking had been scalding. Agony seared my throat, a relentless, stabbing fire that choked off my words. Suddenly, Faith's face drained of color. She clutched her abdomen and crumbled to the floor. "John... save our baby... it hurts..." He didn't hesitate. Didn't even look at me. He scooped her up and rushed toward the car, his only focus on getting her to the hospital. Pain radiated through my body, so intense I nearly blacked out. I stumbled after them, needing medical attention for my throat, hoping he would at least drive me to the emergency room. But the engine roared to life. As the car sped away, the side mirror clipped me, sending me sprawling onto the pavement. From beginning to end, John never glanced in the rearview mirror. A laugh bubbled up in my chest, but when it tore from my throat, it came out as a grotesque, rasping croak. The sound was alien. Broken. Seven years of marriage. The love I had sacrificed my career, my family, my dignity for. What a magnificent joke. Fighting waves of dizziness, I hailed a taxi and dragged myself to the hospital alone. The examination was a death sentence. The doctor explained that a simple scald could have healed. But the tea had been laced with toxins. My vocal cords were chemically burned. They would never recover. My voice—the voice that had won the Magnolia Drama Award, the voice of a generation—was gone. My legs gave out. I slid to the cold hospital floor. Tears fell in heavy, silent drops. Just then, my phone buzzed. The manager from the café. "Ms. Chapman? We reviewed the surveillance footage. The water on the floor that caused you to fall... the lady sitting across from you splashed it deliberately." My grip on the phone tightened. That morning, Faith had threatened me. She said if I didn't meet her, she would send a sex tape of her and John to my father. My father, who suffered from severe heart disease. I thought it was just a meeting. I thought I could handle her. When I slipped and fell earlier, I suspected she had a hand in it. But this? This wasn't a prank. This was attempted murder. My chest heaved violently, air rasping through my ruined throat. I found out she was admitted to the second floor of the same hospital. Clutching the printed divorce agreement, fueled by a rage that burned hotter than the poison, I stormed toward her room. I reached the doorway, ready to throw the truth in their faces. Slap! Before I could take a step inside, a heavy hand struck my face. The force whipped my head to the side, stinging tears springing to my eyes. John stood there, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot and terrifying. His lips trembled with fury. "Michelle, if you can't tolerate Faith, fine. But why did you have to harm the child?" He loomed over me, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you know you nearly caused a miscarriage? You drugged her!" He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "We've been married seven years, and you never gave me a child. She's carrying my firstborn, and you can't even tolerate that?" The sheer audacity left me paralyzed. I shoved the divorce papers against his chest. Since I couldn't speak, I pulled out my phone and typed furiously, fingers trembling. Are you blind? I never touched her! What does her child have to do with me? She killed my child! She destroyed my throat! He slapped me again. Harder. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. "Stop making excuses! You called her to the café. She drank the water you gave her. Are you suggesting she tried to kill her own baby?" From the bed, Faith let out a weak, hiccupping sob. She looked fragile, the picture of innocence. "John... don't blame Michelle." She wept softly. "She did it because she loves you. She's just jealous. I'm the one who upset her. If hurting me makes her feel better, I'll bear it. I don't want to come between you two." As the last word left her lips, she went limp. Unconscious. "Faith!" John rushed to her side, pressing the call button like a madman. Only after the doctor confirmed she was stable did he turn back to me. His expression was cold. Devoid of any humanity. He signaled his bodyguards. "Hold her down." He pointed to the floor beside Faith's bed. "Kneel. You aren't leaving this room until she wakes up and you beg for her forgiveness."

I hadn't done anything wrong. Faith was the murderer who killed my child. Why should I apologize to her? John didn't care about the truth. He knew about my severe claustrophobia, yet he dragged me to the basement and shoved me inside. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing me in absolute darkness. Panic clawed at my throat. I ignored the searing pain in my vocal cords and screamed, my voice cracking into a jagged rasp. I pounded on the door until my palms were raw and my strength failed me. No matter how hard I begged, the silence remained unbroken. The darkness pressed against my chest, suffocating, heavy as lead. John never opened the door. In that suffocating void, the image of the man I had loved for eleven years didn't fade—it disintegrated, piece by piece, until nothing remained. Then the world went black. When I opened my eyes, blinding light flooded my vision. John had finally released me. "Michelle, you are impossibly stubborn," he sneered, looming over me. "Still refusing to repent? Then take a look at this." He shoved a tablet in my face. On the screen, a news headline flashed: Chapman Group Facing Imminent Collapse. I frowned, confusion cutting through the haze. My father's company had been stable for years. I forced words through my damaged throat, the sound grating and ugly. "John... you did this?" His expression was terrifyingly calm. "This is the price of defiance." I looked at the screen again. My father's face was deathly pale in the footage. A chill ran down my spine. I scrambled up and clutched John's sleeve, my pride shattering instantly. "I was wrong. I'll go apologize to her right now. Just let my dad go, please." Tears stung my eyes. "This is my fault. It has nothing to do with him..." I didn't wait for his answer. I sprinted toward Faith's hospital room. But I was too late. The moment I burst through the door, Faith was gripping a fruit knife. Her eyes met mine—cold, calculating—before she plunged the blade into her own abdomen. "No!" I screamed. John rushed in behind me as blood bloomed across the white sheets, staining them crimson. Faith wept, collapsing into John's arms. She looked up at him, her expression the picture of selfless innocence. "John, I truly love you. I felt so guilty that you've been married seven years without an heir... I just wanted to give you a child." Her voice trembled. "As a woman, I understand Michelle. She only treats me this way because she loves you too much." She clutched his shirt, knuckles white. "The baby... even if I die, it doesn't matter. As long as you and she are happy. Promise me... don't punish her because of me..." Having delivered her lines perfectly, she fainted on cue. I stood there, trembling. "John, can you believe me just once?" My voice broke. "We've known each other for eleven years. You know who I am. You know I wouldn't—" He didn't let me finish. He kicked me, hard. I hit the floor, gasping. "That is exactly the problem!" John roared, his eyes filled with disgust. "We've known each other for eleven years, yet the woman before me is a stranger! Michelle Chapman, I will make you pay for every drop of her blood." Not long after, the Chapman Group declared bankruptcy. My father's heart condition relapsed from the stress. Because of John's influence, every major hospital in Harbor City refused to admit him. My mother called, hysterical. She begged me to find a way, to save him. I knelt before John, slamming my forehead against the floor again and again, begging him to stop. He looked down at me coldly. "When Faith wakes up and the doctors confirm she and the child are safe, I will stop." But Faith took her time waking up. And before she opened her eyes, my father stopped breathing. I staggered out of the hospital like a hollow shell. No pain, no regret—just vast, empty numbness. I had a courier deliver the divorce agreement to John's office. Then I boarded a plane back to Riverdale. John Weiss, I thought as the city shrank beneath the clouds. If there is any mercy in this universe, I pray we never meet again—in life or in death.