A Billionaire's Second Chance

My last breath was a gasp of pure, stupid shock.

The sterile white room, the doctor' s flat voice delivering my death sentence-a massive coronary, brought on by stress.

But it wasn't stress. It was betrayal.

My wife, Jennifer, stood over me, her sweet mask replaced by a cold, triumphant sneer.

"The baby?" she hissed, her voice dripping venom. "It' s Ryan' s. It was always going to be Ryan' s."

Ryan. Her childhood sweetheart. The man whose limp I pitied, whose medical bills I paid, fueling their luxurious life.