139 She was 35 weeks pregnant, shivering outside the five-star Grand Plaza Hotel, when her husband slapped her so hard her shoulder slammed into a stone pillar.
The Dropped Pin and the Promise He Kept
She was 35 weeks pregnant, shivering outside the five-star Grand Plaza Hotel, when her husband slapped her so hard her shoulder slammed into a stone pillar.
Her thick knitted shawl was ripped from her shoulders, hitting the wet pavement.
“Stop making a scene!” Mark hissed, his right hand still raised. He glanced nervously toward the glass lobby doors. “You’re embarrassing me in front of the VIP guests.”
His mistress, Chloe, stood half a step behind him in a stunning red evening gown. She adjusted the heavy diamond bracelet on her wrist and let out a fake, trembling sob as if she was the one being attacked.
“Mark, please,” Chloe whispered loudly enough for the valets to hear. “She’s out of control. I’m scared.”
The pregnant wife touched her burning left cheek. She had come here only because Mark told her he was out of state on a crucial business trip. Instead, she had just watched him walk out of the VIP charity gala arm-in-arm with another woman.
“You said you were in Chicago,” the wife gasped, her left hand still covering her face. “You said this contract would secure our baby’s future.”
“It is my contract, and this is my night!” Mark stepped closer, pointing his finger inches from her face. “Get in a cab and go home before I have security throw you off the property.”
He stepped forward to grab her arm, but his leather dress shoe accidentally kicked the knitted shawl lying on the pavement.
A sharp metallic clink echoed over the sound of the hotel fountain.
From the folds of the fallen shawl, a small, heavy object skidded across the smooth stone tiles. It was a tarnished silver pin, shaped like an oak tree with three distinct stars.
At that exact second, the rear door of the black luxury sedan parked at the curb swung open.
The Chairman of the charity foundation—the billionaire host of the entire gala—stepped out onto the pavement. He was walking toward the lobby when the scraping sound of the silver pin caught his attention.
The Chairman froze. His eyes locked onto the small silver oak tree shining under the valet lights. It was the exact symbol of the secret scholarship fund he had created twenty years ago to find his dead best friend's missing daughter.
He slowly looked up from the pin, his gaze landing directly on the pregnant woman pressed against the pillar.
Mark noticed the billionaire and immediately put on a fake, panicked smile. “Mr. Chairman, I am so sorry about this disturbance, this is just a crazy—”
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“Don’t move,” the Chairman ordered, his voice cold enough to freeze the air.
TO BE CONTINUED...
