The Billionaire Heiress's Radical Comeback

Aspen Donaldson POV:

I hung up the phone, the clinical click echoing in the sterile room. A strange mix of liberation and profound sadness washed over me. I had said the words. I had demanded my freedom. And Derek, oblivious and self-absorbed as ever, was still at some party, his mistress giggling in the background. My chest ached, but it wasn' t the despair of before. It was a phantom pain, a memory of a wound that was finally beginning to close.

The next morning, the hospital room felt colder. The peace I' d felt after the phone call was fragile. It shattered when the door creaked open, revealing Krystal Berg. She stood there, a vision in a fitted emerald dress, holding a ridiculously oversized bouquet of white lilies and a brightly wrapped gift bag. Her eyes, usually so calculating, were wide and innocent, rimmed with a faint redness that suggested she' d been crying. A performative show, I was sure.

"Aspen, darling!" she exclaimed, her voice a little too high, a little too sweet. She glided into the room, filling it with the cloying scent of lilies and her expensive perfume. "Derek told me what happened. Oh, you poor, poor thing!"

She placed the lilies on my bedside table, pushing aside my water glass. The gift bag-a trendy designer brand I recognized as Krystal' s preferred luxury-was thrust towards me. "This is from Derek and me. Just a little something to lift your spirits."

I stared at the bag. It was the same brand I used to love, the brand Derek had bought for me on our anniversaries. Now, Krystal was presenting it. A subtle power play. I could almost hear her whispering, He buys this for me now, not you.

"Thank you," I said, my voice flat, refusing to engage in her charade.

Krystal perched on the edge of the visitor's chair, crossing her long legs. I noticed a new, sparkling diamond pendant nestled in her cleavage. It was strikingly similar to a design I' d once admired in a jewelry store window, a design Derek had dismissed as "too flashy" for me.

She caught my gaze, a sly smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, this?" she said, touching the pendant lightly. "Derek bought it for me just last week. A little 'thank you' for all my hard work. He said it reminded him of... well, never mind." She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "He's just so generous, isn't he? Makes you feel so special."

My stomach churned. I closed my eyes, trying to block her out. Her sickeningly sweet voice, the scent of her perfume, the image of that stolen necklace. It was all too much.

"Aspen, don't you want to open your gift?" she pressed, her voice edged with faux concern.

I kept my eyes closed. "I'm tired, Krystal. Please, just leave."

"Oh, but I came all this way!" she whined, a hint of steel underneath the feigned helplessness. "Derek was so worried. He said you've been so… difficult lately. We were both so concerned about your mental state. Especially with... well, you know."

She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "Derek told me you've been on birth control for years. He always wanted a baby, you know. He was so upset about that. Said you were preventing him from having a family."

My eyes snapped open. How did she know that? It was a private matter, a discussion between Derek and me, made years ago when I wanted to focus on my career first, and he'd agreed. Now she was weaponizing it.

"He also said," Krystal continued, oblivious to my growing fury, "that you've been so selfish, always putting yourself first. And now, this... this tragedy. Losing the baby. It's just... karma, isn't it? For denying him a child for so long."

My blood ran cold. Karma? She was blaming me for the miscarriage? For grief?

"I hope," Krystal added, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "that this time, you really do lose everything. I hope you lose your mind. I hope you lose your hope. I hope you lose your life, just like that poor little baby you never wanted."

My hand moved before my mind could process it. A sharp, stinging slap echoed in the quiet room. Krystal' s head snapped to the side, her perfect makeup smudged, a red mark blooming on her cheek. Her eyes, no longer innocent, blazed with pure hatred.

In an instant, her demeanor shifted. She clutched her cheek, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh! How could you, Aspen?" she whimpered, her voice cracking. "I was just trying to be kind! Derek said you were volatile, but I never believed him!"

She stood up, stumbling slightly, her eyes wide with feigned terror. "He loves you, you know," she said, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. "He's just trying to make you strong! He wants you to be independent! He carries so much stress, running his company, and you just add to it! You should be grateful he even bothers with you!"

"Get out," I snarled, my voice hoarse, raw with rage. "Get out, you manipulative bitch!"

Krystal recoiled, her lower lip trembling. She backed away, then, in a sudden, dramatic flourish, she tripped over the leg of the chair. With a gasp, she fell to the floor, landing with a soft thud. Her carefully arranged dress twisted around her.

Just as she hit the ground, the door to my room burst open. Derek stood framed in the doorway, his face a mask of fury.

"What the hell is going on here?!" he roared, his eyes instantly falling on Krystal, crumpled on the floor, and me, my hand still throbbing from the slap. He rushed past me, ignoring me completely, dropping to his knees beside Krystal.

"Krystal! Baby, are you okay?" he murmured, his voice laced with genuine concern, with fear. He gently touched her cheek, then her arm, his hands running over her, checking for injuries. He pulled her into his embrace, cradling her head against his chest.

His gaze swept over me, cold and accusatory. There was no concern in his eyes. Only disgust.