I Was Broke, Pregnant, and Married to a Billionaire
918 Views · Ongoing · Lyric Ross
Three days after I lost our baby, my husband finally remembered to call.
I was packing when Adrian Whitmore's name appeared on my screen.
"Vanessa told me you caused another scene over the medical bills," he said, sounding irritated. "I've authorized the payment. Can we please move on?"
I stared at the tiny knitted sweater lying in my suitcase.
I'd bought it the day I learned I was pregnant.
He didn't know I'd already prepared our divorce papers.
For three years, I'd been Mrs. Whitmore, the wife of one of New York's wealthiest men. No one would believe that after three years as Mrs. Whitmore, I couldn't find four decent outfits in my own closet.
Every dollar I spent required approval, and even my clothes and jewelry were locked away. To access anything, I had to ask his assistant, Vanessa Reed.
Adrian believed my modest upbringing made me incapable of handling money responsibly.
Three days ago, seventeen weeks pregnant, I needed money for an emergency medical transfer.
Vanessa deliberately delayed the approval until it was too late.
I lost our baby.
Adrian never cared enough to notice what I'd been through. I had endured years of humiliation just because I loved him, still holding out hope for the happy marriage he'd once promised.
But now our baby was gone.
And I had no reason left to stay.
I was packing when Adrian Whitmore's name appeared on my screen.
"Vanessa told me you caused another scene over the medical bills," he said, sounding irritated. "I've authorized the payment. Can we please move on?"
I stared at the tiny knitted sweater lying in my suitcase.
I'd bought it the day I learned I was pregnant.
He didn't know I'd already prepared our divorce papers.
For three years, I'd been Mrs. Whitmore, the wife of one of New York's wealthiest men. No one would believe that after three years as Mrs. Whitmore, I couldn't find four decent outfits in my own closet.
Every dollar I spent required approval, and even my clothes and jewelry were locked away. To access anything, I had to ask his assistant, Vanessa Reed.
Adrian believed my modest upbringing made me incapable of handling money responsibly.
Three days ago, seventeen weeks pregnant, I needed money for an emergency medical transfer.
Vanessa deliberately delayed the approval until it was too late.
I lost our baby.
Adrian never cared enough to notice what I'd been through. I had endured years of humiliation just because I loved him, still holding out hope for the happy marriage he'd once promised.
But now our baby was gone.
And I had no reason left to stay.



































