The Jilted Bride's Billionaire Redemption

From the back cover

The Vermont chill, familiar yet unwelcome, clung to me as I pushed Caleb' s stroller through the cemetery. After three years in California, I' d hoped for a quiet visit to my parents' graves.

But then I saw her: Mrs. Lester, standing by her husband' s tombstone. And almost immediately, Mrs. Lester's misplaced hope turned into a direct dial to Ethan, who was undoubtedly on his way.

Moments later, Ethan's luxury car crunched on the gravel, and out he stepped, followed by Sabrina, clinging to his arm.

Before I could explain, Caleb stirred, and Ethan' s eyes dropped to the stroller, a cruel smirk forming. "Working as a nanny now?" he sneered. "Apologize to Sabrina, and I' ll consider taking you back. Can' t have my wife working as a servant."

His words, each a sharp blow, echoed the day he' d abandoned me at our engagement on stage, leaving me humiliated as Sabrina theatrically threatened suicide with a box cutter. He thought Caleb was my employer' s child. He thought I was broken, desperate for his scraps.

And now, Sabrina, with a practiced gasp, stumbled dramatically, feigning injury when I dared to protect my son from her touch. Ethan' s rage turned on me.

"You' re still the same cruel person! Apologize!" My world was crashing, and the old helplessness crept in. But then, a sleek black Rivian pulled up, and out stepped Andrew Scott.