My Twins Belong To The Tycoon

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The night I walked into our bedroom, my eyes swollen raw from crying at my grandmothers funeral, I found my husband and my best friend tangled together on our bed. Their skin was slick and flushed, their breathing heavy and rushed in the dark room.

The confrontation died in my throat before I could even draw breath. Instead, a surreal, glowing stream of text began to scroll directly across my field of vision, like a live-chat feed running over a broadcast of my own life:

[Naomi really loves Davis. In her past life, she literally died for him. Thank God he got a second chance at lifeits finally not just a one-sided crush!]

[But Davis traded the lives of his wifes unborn twins just to get this second chance. Isn't that a little psycho? Ella just lost her babies, and now her grandma is dead. This is brutal.]

[He did it to pay Naomi back! Besides, those werent even his babies. He never even touched his wife. He literally hired some random guy to get her pregnant so he wouldn't have to deal with her. Honestly, genius.]

My world fractured. The room spun, the air turning to ice in my lungs.

Before I could process the horror of what I was reading, Davis pulled a sheet over them, shielding Naomi protectively in his arms.

"It was me," he said, his voice devoid of any guilt. "Im the one who pushed for this. I didnt want Naomi to have to hide in the shadows anymore, but she was the one who didn't want to hurt you. If you don't make a scene, you can keep the Fitch name. Youll still be my wife."

As I stood there, the translucent text kept scrolling, detailing the wild, obsessive things he had done in this "reborn" life to repay Naomi. It was so absurdly cruel that it crossed the line into comedy.

I wiped the hot tears from my face, a cold, mocking laugh bubbling up from my chest.

"No, thank you," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my knees. "Let's get a divorce. Im letting you both go."

Davis paused, his hand freezing on the shirt he was pulling over his shoulders.

"Are you sure about that?"

Naomi immediately slipped out of bed, throwing on a silk robe. She dropped to her knees right in front of me, tears streaming down her facethe perfect picture of fragile, tragic innocence.

"Ella, I'm so sorry. I lost my mind for a second. Please, just pretend this never happened. I'll disappear, I swear. You love him so much... it shouldn't end like this because of me."

My eyes burned as I stared down at her. Without a word, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.

"I loved him, yes," I whispered, my voice cracking. "But I loved you too. And you still crossed the line and ruined everything."

For ten years, she had watched me pine after Davis. She was the one who bought me tissues, who yelled at the sky that Davis was blind for not seeing my worth. On my wedding day, she had grabbed his collar and threatened to ruin him if he ever broke my heart. I thought our friendship was a fortress. I thought we were a trio against the world.

Now, the woman who had held my hand at the altar was the one in my bed.

Daviss face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing the heavy, glass-framed wedding portrait from the nightstand and throwing it directly at me.

"Ella, how dare you touch her!"

The heavy frame shattered against my forehead. A sharp, hot pain bloomed instantly, and a drop of blood, warm and thick, rolled down my face, splitting over the bridge of my nose like a red tear.

Six months ago, he had knelt on a bed of rose petals, kissing my hand like I was his entire universe. "Ella, I love you," he had shouted, loud enough for the photographers to laugh. "I will protect you forever."

Six months. That was all it took for "forever" to turn into shattered glass and blood in my eyes.

Davis seemed briefly stunned seeing me bleed, but his face quickly hardened back into a cold, defensive sneer.

"Think about it carefully. If you divorce me, you have nothing. The house, the car, the bank accountstheyre all mine. You dont even have a job. How are you going to survive?"

He was right. For three years, I had shrunk myself to fit his life. He said he hated women who were always out in public, so I resigned from my firm. He said he hated strangers in his space, so I became his maid, his cook, his laundress. He said he despised needy women, so when my appendix nearly burst, I drove myself to the ER in the dead of night, biting my lip so I wouldn't call him. I thought I was becoming the perfect wife.

But the glowing text in front of my eyes kept updating, rewriting my reality with every second:

[Davis knew Naomi wouldn't just accept handouts, so he secretly pulled strings to get her a high-paying, low-stress job. She didn't even have to interview; she was hired on the spot.]

[Last time Naomi had a 102-degree fever, Davis canceled a major board meeting to stay by her side all night, wiping her sweat and feeding her water. He was more attentive than a private nurse.]

[He literally traveled back in time to make things right with Naomi. She died for him in his past life; of course he's going to give her every ounce of his tenderness now.]

I laughed. I laughed until my stomach cramped, until my whole body shook. He wasnt incapable of love, or tenderness, or care. He just didnt have any of it for me.

I met his cold gaze, my resolve hardening. "Don't worry about how I'll survive. I'm divorcing you, Davis. It's over."

I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing my few belongings.

Daviss brow furrowed in irritation, while Naomis weeping grew louder. She clutched his arm, her voice trembling. "Davis, don't agree to this. It's my fault... Ella just lost her grandmother, she's fragile right now. She's just speaking out of anger..."

At the mention of my grandmother, Daviss eyes flickered toward my bleeding forehead and swollen eyes. For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a shadow of guilt, but it was quickly swallowed by disgust.

"What does her grandmother's death have to do with you?" Davis said, gently wiping Naomi's tears. "She's only crying because of the inheritance. Her grandmother left the family cottage to someone else, not her. Do you really think she's mourning?"

I froze, a sweater slipping from my hands.

My grandmother had loved me more than life itself. She had told me a thousand times that the old family cottage was my safety net. "No matter who you marry, Ella, you will always have a place that belongs to you. That is your retreat."

The scrolling text flared up again:

[Just because Naomi mentioned she loved the cottage, Davis had his lawyer friend alter the grandmother's will. Ella got absolutely nothing. Talk about devotion.]

[That's nothing. Naomi said funerals are depressing and bring bad luck, so Davis literally banned Ella from attending the wake. He even paid people to spread rumors that Ella was an ungrateful granddaughter who wouldn't even stay by her grandmother's side. Ella had to threaten suicide just to get to the funeral.]

[To keep Naomi happy during the grandmother's final days, Davis literally locked Ella inside the house so she couldn't say goodbye, all while he was taking Naomi on a weekend getaway to cheer her up.]

A loud roar filled my ears, and my mind went completely blank.

The night my grandmother passed, I had been clawing at the front door, desperate to go to the hospital. But Davis had held me back, wrapping his arms around me, telling me the doctors said she was stable. He had told me to rest, promising he would stay by her bedside so I wouldn't have to worry. I had slept that night feeling so incredibly grateful for his kindness.

But he wasn't at the hospital.

He was with Naomi, creating beautiful memories, while my grandmother drew her last breath alone.

"Davis Fitch! It was you, wasn't it?" I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. The blood from my forehead had reached my lips, hot and metallic. "You locked me in! You kept me from saying goodbye to my grandmother! Did you forget how good she was to you?"

I wanted him to feel a shred of remorse. I wanted him to remember.

"I didn't forget," Davis said, his voice dropping into a chilling, dismissive register. "When my first start-up failed and I was broke, she fed me. She gave me a warm place to stay and lent me her life savings to keep me afloat. But so what? Those cheap little favors were just her and your way of feeling important. I never asked for them."

The sheer, monstrous ingratitude broke something inside me. I lunged forward, swinging my hand toward his face.

Davis didn't even flinch. He stood there, his eyes filled with bored annoyance. But before my palm could connect, Naomi let out a piercing shriek and threw herself between us.

My hand struck her cheek. She was fragile, and the force of the impact sent her stumbling backward. The back of her head cracked sharply against the edge of the wooden vanity.

Naomi whimpered, her face turning pale as a thin line of blood began to seep through her hair.

Davis completely lost his mind.

He rushed to her, scooping her into his arms with a terror I had never seen in him. "Naomi! Naomi, look at me. I'm here. Where does it hurt? I'm taking you to the hospital right now." His voice shook, his eyes rimmed with sudden, genuine tears.

I stood frozen, watching his panic.

A memory, cold and sharp, cut through my mind.

A few weeks ago, when I was losing our twins, hemorrhaging on the cold operating table, the doctors had issued critical condition notices twice. I had been terrified, my hand gripping the nurse's arm, begging to see my husband.

But Davis had only stood outside the OR for two minutes. He had asked the doctor, "She's not dead, right?" and when they said no, he hung up his phone and drove three hours through a storm to be with Naomi because she had a mild cold.

At the time, I couldn't understand how the man who used to put band-aids on my paper cuts had become so utterly indifferent to my life.

Now, the truth was laid bare. He hadn't changed. He just reserved all his warmth for someone else.

Davis violently shoved me aside as he lifted Naomi. The sudden movement sent a sharp, agonizing pain blooming through my lower abdomen, and I stumbled, warm blood dripping onto the bedroom floor.

Davis paused for a second, looking at the blood on the floor, but Naomi let out a soft groan, and he immediately turned and ran out the door, leaving me behind.

I stared at the empty doorway and let out a quiet, hollow laugh. The last lingering shred of my love for him died in that silence.

I packed my bag, placed the signed divorce papers on the kitchen counter, and walked out into the cold night.

The next morning, I dragged my weak, aching body to my grandmother's cottage.

The lock had been changed. I didn't care. I grabbed a brick from the garden and smashed the glass pane of the back door, reaching in to unlock it. But when I stepped inside, the breath left my lungs.

The cottage was unrecognizable.

My grandmothers antique wooden furniture had been dragged into the yard and smashed into kindling. The framed photographs of us that used to line the hallway were torn to pieces, scattered across the floor and covered in muddy boot prints. Naomis modern, colorful luggage and clothes were piled high in the living room.

And in the corner of the yard, lying in a pool of dried, blackened blood, was Rusty.

Rusty, the golden retriever who had protected me for twelve years, who had slept at my grandmothers feet, lay completely still. His throat had been brutally slit.

My knees gave out, and I fell heavily onto the gravel, a bitter, metallic taste rising in my throat.

My grandmother was gone. And now, the only creature left who welcomed me home was gone too.

"You're just in time."

Naomi walked out of the house. The fragile, weeping victim from last night was gone; her face was twisted into a cold, triumphant sneer.

She walked slowly toward me, looking down at me as I huddled in the dirt.

"Ella, are you still too stupid to get it? I've hated you from the very beginning. You had a grandmother who adored you, and a husband who worshipped you. And me? I had nothing. So I decided to take your man, destroy your babies, take your house, and crush everything you ever loved under my heel. I had Davis change the will. I had the dog killed. I told him to keep you from your grandmother."

I trembled violently, my eyes hot with blood and tears. "Grandmother was so good to you! How could you be this evil?"

"Good to me?" Naomi spat, stepping forward and grabbing a handful of my hair, forcing my face up. "She was never my family! She only looked at you. Her 'kindness' was just charity, and it made me sick."

She suddenly let go of my hair and threw herself backward onto the gravel, scraping her palms and ripping her clothes.

At that exact moment, the front gate clicked open, and Davis walked in.

Naomis face transformed instantly. Tears welled in her eyes as she whimpered, crawling toward him. "Davis... Ella is just upset... if hitting me makes her feel better, let her..."

Davis didn't even look at me. He scooped her into his arms, his chest rising and falling with anger. He turned a freezing glare toward me.

"Ella, haven't you thrown enough tantrums?"

"This is my grandmother's house!" I screamed, pushing myself up from the dirt. "It belongs to me!"

"Belongs to you?" Davis took a step forward, shielding Naomi. "The will is legally binding. The cottage belongs to Naomi. Your grandmother willingly named her as her beneficiary. You have no right to cause a scene here."

"Willingly?" My voice cracked, a hysterical laugh escaping my throat. "You know exactly what you did! You took everything from me for her! Do you even have a conscience?"

My words only seemed to make him colder.

Naomi whimpered against his chest. "Davis, as long as we're together, I can bear anything. Let's just give her the house. I don't want you two fighting because of me."

Davis looked down at me, his eyes devoid of any humanity. He turned, walked into the house, and emerged a moment later carrying a small, ceramic urn. My grandmother's ashes.

He held it high, hovering it over the concrete steps.

"The cottage stays with Naomi. But if you kneel down, beg Naomi for forgiveness, and admit you tried to illegally take this property, Ill give you the ashes."

He paused, tilting the urn slightly. "Otherwise..."

I froze, the air leaving my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. How could they do this to her?

"Ella! What on earth are you doing?"

I turned to see my Aunt Abigail rushing through the gate, having heard the commotion. But instead of helping me, she looked at my bleeding face with deep disappointment.

"Ella, stop being so difficult! Your grandmother left the house to Naomi because Naomi was the one who actually stayed and took care of her. Just apologize and take your grandmother's ashes. Stop causing a scene!"

Naomi let out a soft sigh, patting Aunt Abigail's hand. "Don't blame her, Auntie. Ella was always so busy with her own life. I was happy to care for grandmother. I never expected her to leave me the house..."

Davis gave me a chilling, expectant look. "I'm waiting, Ella."

I closed my eyes. The gravel bit into my knees, but I didn't care. To let my grandmother rest in peace, I would surrender every last shred of my dignity.

I bent my knees and sank to the ground.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the sharp stones.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The stones cut into my skin, and the pain in my abdomen flared so intensely that my vision went black at the edges.

Above me, I heard the faint click of a camera. Naomi had pulled out her phone, recording my bloody, desperate humilation.

Within minutes, she had uploaded the video online with a caption: Ungrateful granddaughter tries to steal family estate, attacks the rightful heir, and holds grandmother's ashes hostage.

The internet did the rest. Within twenty minutes, the video went viral.

A crowd of neighbors and passersby, fueled by self-righteous fury, began gathering outside the gate. They pushed into the yard, shouting insults, throwing trash, and pulling at my clothes.

"Heartless bitch!" someone yelled, throwing a plastic bottle that struck my shoulder. "You don't deserve to live!"

Through the chaos, I saw Davis standing on the porch, his arm wrapped tightly around Naomi, keeping her safe from the crowd.

Naomi snuggled closer to him, a small, satisfied smirk playing on her lips before she looked up at him with faux concern. "Davis, do you think she'll hate me?"

Daviss face remained impassive. "Shes too stubborn. If she doesn't learn her lesson today, she'll never learn to respect you."

I lay in the dirt, the pain in my abdomen screaming, my forehead bleeding, my body covered in bruises.

The world was slipping away. I was suffocating under the weight of their cruelty.

Just as my eyes began to close, a shadow fell over me. The crowd's shouting suddenly died down, replaced by a tense, heavy silence.

A pair of strong arms slipped under my knees and back, lifting me effortlessly from the cold ground.

A deep, commanding voice cut through the silence, vibrating with a terrifying, quiet rage.

"You want to die for touching what's mine?"