The CEO's Billion-Dollar Divorce Regret

My husband, a mafia underboss and a brilliant neurosurgeon, left me to die on the side of a highway in the pouring rain. He had to rush to another woman, his true love, who'd had a minor car accident.

As I lay bleeding on a gurney after being hit by a truck, I learned I was eight weeks pregnant. But my hope was short-lived. The hospital was out of my blood type, and the only reserve had been set aside by my husband for his lover, just in case she had "post-op complications" from her cosmetic procedure.

Over the phone, I heard the nurse beg him. "This woman, and your... this baby will die!"

His reply was ice. "Isabella is my priority."

He let our child die to save her from a minor risk. The ledger where I'd been keeping score of his sins finally hit zero. I was free.

Two years later, I've built a new life, a new career, and found a new love with a man who cherishes me. I'm no longer the broken wife, but a celebrated architect, nominated for a prestigious award.

And tonight, at the awards ceremony, he found me. He got on his knees in the middle of the ballroom, begging for a second chance.