My Poor Husband Is A Billionaire

The mere thought of the spectacle where he crushed Brandon underfoot would send Jeremy into bouts of gleeful mirth.

Jeremy’s savage grin paired with his frosty laughter was enough to chill Suzanne’s bones, a fear she kept well concealed. Their separation had spanned but a handful of days.

How was it that Jeremy seemed even more unhinged, more outlandish than before? His demeanor was akin to a midnight butcher brandishing his blade on a deserted street.

Such recklessness stirred a sense of trepidation in Suzanne. Could such a man, a tempest of insanity, truly serve as her protector? Might his blade find her skin in some unfathomable future? Contemplating this possibility sent ripples of anxiety through Suzanne.

In truth, she was a woman beset by perpetual insecurity. Upon her birth, her mother was claimed by the harsh realities of childbirth.

As a girl in the patriarchal Duncan family, she received less-than-welcome receptions. Her existence was deemed the origin of her mother’s demise.

in a damp, forgotten storage room in their antiquated homestead, left to her own devices. The elders’ scorn emboldened her relatives to torment her daily for their amusement. In her mind’s eye, Suzanne recalled her cousins delighting in dropping

her until she lay on the brink of death, pleading for mercy. Suzanne sought help from the elders, yearning for

her battered body finding solace in that cold, damp corner. Yet even there, in her private sanctuary, she was not granted respite. The attendant designated to care for her neglected her duties, rationing her meals and shunting her

to retaliate only provoked harsher abuse, more brutal blows. Her formative years were painted with bruises and insults, bereft of family or

wildfire by her cousin. Consequently, her peers believed she

symbolic sweeping of their

"You, the source

the day you were born, you

grew numb to these harsh words.She found herself cornered