Discovered His Will, Faked My Death

After seven years of marriage, I discovered my billionaire husband Grayson' s will.

He was leaving his entire fortune not to me, but to his young protégée, Kira. My life was a lie; I was just a placeholder, a womb for the heir his mistress couldn't carry.

When I demanded a divorce, he laughed.

"You're pregnant, Elyse. And you think you're just going to walk away with my child?"

He tore up the papers, threatening to use his immense power to take our baby. Then Kira, his mistress, showed up at my door, confirming my worst fear: Grayson wanted my child to raise as his and hers.

She even sent me a photo of him asleep in her bed, wearing the pajamas I bought him, with a chilling message.

"He hopes our baby has a dimple too. For me."

I was chosen because I resembled her. My son was meant to be her child.

That night, I vanished. The news later reported a pregnant woman, identified by my wedding ring, had died in a clinic fire. But I was already on a plane, my hand on my belly, escaping to a new life.

Chapter 1

Elyse POV:

My heart stopped when I saw it. The trust document, tucked away in the back of Grayson' s secure digital file, the one he swore was just for business. I knew the password. He never changed it. It was our anniversary date, a detail I used to find sweet. Now, it just felt like a cruel joke.

I clicked it open, a cold dread washing over me. It was his will. His last will and testament. And it left everything, every single one of his billion-dollar assets, to Kira McGuire.

Kira. The young artist he sponsored. The one he always called his protégé. My stomach twisted. Seven years. Seven years of my life, of my marriage to Grayson Graves, and it was all a lie.

He had promised me a life of love. A partnership. But the ironclad prenup we signed, the one he' d insisted on, screamed a different truth. No traditional wedding. No family. Just a quick ceremony and a document that ensured I walked away with nothing. I had dismissed it then, drunk on what I thought was love. "Traditions are for lesser men, Elyse," he'd said, his eyes intense, making me feel special. "Our love is beyond such trivialities."

I had believed him. For seven long years, I had believed him.

But now, staring at the screen, it was clear. I was nothing. A placeholder. A womb.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Grayson stood there, his face a mask of fury.

"What do you think you're doing?" he spat, his voice like ice. "Get away from my computer."

"The password," I said, my voice shaking but steady. "It was our anniversary. You never changed it."

He didn't answer. He just strode across the room, grabbed the laptop, and slammed it shut. His fingers flew across the keyboard, changing the password, erasing any trace of my trespass.

"This is none of your business," he said, his voice flat. "It's a contingency. For Kira's foundation, should anything happen to me."

"Contingency?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "It's your entire fortune. And it's not a foundation, Grayson. It's a trust. For Kira McGuire, personally." My voice was rising now, gaining strength despite the tremor in my hands. "I want a divorce."

He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it was replaced by cold amusement. "A divorce? Over a misunderstanding, Elyse? Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not ridiculous," I countered, my voice firm. "I'm done. I want out."

He scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. "You're pregnant, Elyse. And you think you're just going to walk away with my child?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't tempt me. You know what I'm capable of."

"Get out!" I shouted, pointing towards the door, my entire body trembling. "Get out of my sight!"

He just stared at me, his gaze chilling. "Don't touch my things again, Elyse. Or you'll regret it." He turned and left, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed in my empty heart.

I sank to the floor, my hands clutching my swollen belly. The baby inside me kicked, a gentle flutter that used to bring me comfort. Now, it just brought terror.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the screen. I needed to act. Now. I booked the earliest possible appointment at the clinic. The one Grayson had mentioned, casually, months ago, for 'future planning.'

My mind raced. Could I do it? Could I give up this child? The thought sent a jolt of pain through me, a physical ache that overshadowed everything else. But what other choice did I have?

At the clinic, the doctor's face was grave. "Elyse, you're eight months pregnant. This procedure is... highly risky. For you. And for the baby." She pointed to the ultrasound screen, a tiny foot kicking into view. "He's perfectly healthy. Are you absolutely certain about this?"

I looked at the vibrant image on the screen, a perfect little life. My baby. My son. The doctor' s words echoed. He's perfectly healthy.

My decision felt like a dagger twisting in my gut. But I had to protect him. From this life. From Grayson.

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to be steady. "Yes," I said, the word a whisper. "I'm certain."

The confirmation text arrived moments later: "Clinic appointment confirmed." My phone buzzed in my hand, a cold metal block. My body felt heavy, each movement a struggle.

I made another call. To Dalton Blevins, a lawyer I had met through some charity events. His voice was calm, reassuring.

"Elyse, I know this is difficult," Dalton said, his tone gentle. "But you have rights. We can fight this. We can fight for a fair share of the marital assets."

I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "No," I said, my voice raw. "There are no marital assets. Not for me."

I remembered the prenup. The tight, ironclad document that left me with nothing. Grayson had been so meticulous. All his assets were carefully shielded, acquired before our marriage or funneled into separate trusts. My own earnings, meager compared to his, had barely covered my personal expenses. He'd always said, "What's mine is ours, darling. But for legal protection, let's keep things separate on paper." I had bought into it, hook, line, and sinker.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Grayson's "love" was a carefully constructed cage. Every grand gesture, every casual phrase about our shared future, had been a lie. He didn' t want a wife; he wanted a vessel. A mother for a child Kira couldn't have. And his "affection" for me? It was just a performance, a means to an end.

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Don't bother, Dalton. There's nothing to fight for. Not for me, anyway." My body was shaking, but a strange resolve settled over me. "All I want is a clean break. Just get me out of this marriage."

Dalton hesitated. "Elyse, are you sure? There might be ways to challenge some clauses. Especially with a child involved-"

"No," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "Just... prepare the papers. I want this over." My hands trembled as I signed the documents later that day, my anger a cold, steady flame inside me. Seven years. Seven years of being fooled, used, and discarded.

I remembered the diamond necklace he' d bought Kira for her last exhibition. A piece so unique, so intricate, I' d designed it for him years ago, thinking it was for me. He'd said, "It's a gift for someone truly special, a reflection of their untamed spirit." I had blushed, imagining it adorning my own neck. Instead, it was on Kira's.

And the time I nearly bled out after a gastric ulcer flared up? He was "too busy" with a crucial business deal. Later, I found out he'd been at an exclusive art gala with Kira, laughing, holding her hand. My stomach churned.

He'd even asked me to design the plans for a new foundation building. "A legacy project, Elyse," he'd said, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "For the arts. For the next generation." I had poured my heart and soul into it, working through my recovery, pushing past the pain. Only now, seeing the trust document, did I realize the foundation was for Kira, designed to house her works, her vision. He had used my talent, my pain, to build a monument for his mistress.

"I have my own money, Dalton," I said, a bitter smile twisting my lips. "I'm an architect, remember? I have my own independent income. It won't be much compared to his billions, but it's mine. And it's enough."

My chest ached, a physical manifestation of the betrayal. I was so naive, so blind. He had played me for a fool, making me believe that being his wife, living in his shadow, was enough. But it was never enough for him. Or for Kira.

I clutched my belly, a sharp pain shooting through my abdomen. No, no, no. Not now. Not here. I doubled over, a silent sob escaping my lips. "I'm so sorry," I whispered to my unborn child, tears streaming down my face. "I'm so, so sorry."