The Hidden Heiress: Divorcing Her Ruthless CEO

Barbara Burke pushed open the heavy glass doors of the Manhattan General Hospital emergency room, and the freezing early winter wind hit her face along with the strong smell of disinfectant, making her thin shoulders shiver violently.

She raised her right hand to press against her aching ribs. Her freezing fingertips brushed over the fresh gauze on her forehead, the rough texture reminding her of the terrifying emergency landing just hours ago.

Reaching into her torn coat pocket, she pulled out her phone with its shattered screen, took a deep breath, and pressed the speed dial labeled "Keagan" with a trembling finger.

A long, cold ringing tone echoed from the receiver, followed by the robotic voicemail prompt, crushing the last bit of hope in her chest like a bucket of ice water poured over her head.

Two ER nurses pushed a medical cart past her, and one lowered her voice to mutter to the other.

"That plane crash survivor didn't even have a single family member come pick her up."

Their strange looks pressed heavily against Barbara's back as she stood alone by the exit.

Barbara bit her lower lip hard, shoved the phone back into her pocket, and dragged her stiff legs toward the payment kiosk in the main lobby, the scrapes on her calves pulling painfully with every step.

On the lobby wall, a flat-screen TV played looping news footage of the flight skidding off the runway at JFK Airport, bright red headlines scrolling beneath the screen while anxious family members crowded around.

She walked up to the self-service kiosk and was just about to insert her bank card when she caught sight of the VIP elevator doors slowly opening on the other side of the lobby.

A tall man in a custom black three-piece suit stepped out, and the familiar cold, hard line of his shoulders along with the metallic wristwatch flashing on his left wrist made Barbara's breath stop completely.

It was her husband of three years, Keagan Cohen, the man who had ignored her calls during a plane crash, walking right through this very hospital.

Barbara's heart pounded wildly against her ribs as she yanked her bank card out, ignoring the pain in her body to stumble through the crowded lobby after him.

The thick crowd slowed her down, and by the time she panted around the corner, Keagan had already turned into the quiet corridor ahead.

She leaned against the freezing tile wall to catch her breath and looked up at the sign glowing with soft blue light above the hallway: VIP Obstetrics and Gynecology.

Those words hit her chest like a heavy stone, leaving her mind completely blank and her legs too heavy to move even half a step.

Soft voices drifted from deeper inside the hallway, and Barbara forced her shaking fingers to still, pressing herself against the wall as she crept toward the half-open exam room door.

Through the gap, the room looked warm and bright, and Keagan stood with his back to the door, his tall frame leaning slightly forward with a patience she had never seen before.

Across from him on the exam table sat a petite woman in a plain white lace dress, her light blonde hair falling smoothly over her shoulders.

The woman looked up with watery blue eyes full of reliance, a tiny red mole beneath her collarbone catching the light-it was Catina Marsh, the childhood friend Keagan always protected.

Catina reached out her thin fingers to tug lightly on Keagan's suit sleeve, her voice carrying a pitiful sob.

"Keagan, the doctor says the baby is healthy, but I'm still so scared."

Keagan did not pull his arm away; instead, he turned his hand to hold Catina's wrist, speaking in a gentle tone Barbara had never heard in three years of marriage.

"Don't be scared, I'll arrange the best medical team to take care of you and the baby."

An invisible hand squeezed Barbara's heart so tightly she could not breathe, and she bit down hard on the back of her hand to stop a desperate whimper from escaping her throat.

A senior attending physician in a white coat respectfully handed over an ultrasound printout with a flattering smile.

"Please rest assured, Mr. Cohen, Miss Marsh's pregnancy indicators are all completely normal."

Keagan took the printout, his light brown eyes fixed on the black-and-white image while the plain silver pinky ring on his left hand reflected a cold glare.

Standing outside the door, Barbara's stomach churned violently, and cold sweat slid down her pale cheeks to drip onto the dried bloodstains on her collar.

When the cabin had shaken violently and the oxygen masks dropped, her only thought had been to stay alive so she could see Keagan one more time.

Now she had survived, only to watch her husband carefully plan for another woman's unborn child.

Catina leaned right into Keagan's arms, resting one hand over her flat stomach with a satisfied smile curling on her lips.

Unable to bear the suffocating sight for another second, Barbara stepped back hard to run away from this absurd place.

Moving too fast, the heel of her shoe slammed heavily against a metal trash can in the hallway, making a loud, echoing clang.

The conversation inside stopped instantly, and Keagan spun around, his sharp gaze shooting straight toward the half-open door.

Barbara froze all over and tried to turn and run, but heavy footsteps were already approaching from inside the room.

The door was yanked open from within, and Keagan's tall frame blocked the doorway, a suffocating pressure filling the hallway.

His eyes dropped to Barbara's messy, scraped face, his brows furrowing tightly with a flash of surprise before impatience took over.

Looking down at her from above, his voice held not a single trace of warmth.

"Barbara, are you following me?"

Barbara took a deep breath, hid her bruised hands behind her back, met his freezing gaze, and pulled her lips into a cold smile that looked worse than crying.

Barbara stared straight at Keagan's impatient face while the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway shone down on the blood-stained gauze on her pale forehead.

She did not answer his question, instead looking right past his broad shoulders at Catina, who was poking her head out from the exam room with an innocent expression.

Seeing Barbara, Catina shrank back immediately, covering her lower stomach with one hand as her voice trembled.

"Keagan, why is she here? Is she going to hurt our baby?"

Keagan's face darkened at once, and he stepped sideways to completely block Barbara's view, his voice full of open warning.

"This isn't a place you should be, go back to the estate right now."

Barbara's throat burned as she swallowed the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, forcing out a few cold words.

"Don't worry, I have zero interest in your disgusting business."

Without looking at Keagan again, she turned around and dragged her heavy legs toward the elevator with a limp, keeping her back straight and distant.

Keagan watched her stumbling figure, his brows furrowing slightly, before he turned back into the exam room and slammed the door shut.

Walking out of the hospital entrance, Barbara hailed a yellow New York cab, where the radio was playing gossip news about Upper East Side socialite Catina Marsh making her big return to Manhattan's elite circles.

She leaned her head against the freezing glass window, listening to the radio host praise the fallen Marsh family, and hot tears finally spilled from her eyes to slide silently into her collar.

The cab drove onto Long Island and pulled up to the Cohen family coastal estate, which sat in the dark night like a heavy, suffocating cage.

Barbara pushed open the heavy oak front doors to find not a single light left on in the living room, the darkness swallowing her whole just like her three years of marriage.

Leaving the lights off, she felt her way up the stairs to the second floor, walked into the cold master bedroom she lived in alone, and dropped her aching body onto the wide king-size bed.

Physical pain and deep exhaustion pulled her under, and she curled up beneath the covers, sinking into restless nightmares filled with flames and falling planes.

Hours later, the sound of a car engine shutting off echoed from downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps pushing open the front door.

Barbara jerked awake covered in cold sweat, glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand to see it was already two in the morning.

The familiar sound of Keagan's leather shoes hitting the wooden floorboards echoed in the hallway, pausing briefly outside the master bedroom before continuing straight to the study at the end of the hall.

Barbara threw off the covers, stepped onto the freezing floor in her bare feet, pulled on a silk robe, and pushed open the bedroom door to walk down the hall.

The study door was left slightly ajar, letting out a thin line of warm yellow light along with the strong, bitter smell of an expensive cigar.

She pushed the door open and saw Keagan standing before the huge floor-to-ceiling window, his custom tie yanked loose at his collar and a half-burned cigar between his fingers.

Hearing the door open, Keagan did not turn around, his cold voice echoing across the empty study.

"I thought I warned you not to use dirty tricks like following me."

Barbara walked up to the desk and braced both hands on the cold wooden surface, staring straight at his back.

"So you came home at two in the morning because that woman couldn't bear to let you go?"

Keagan turned around with dark, angry eyes and crushed the burning cigar into the crystal ashtray.

"Catina has a weak body, I'm only fulfilling my duty as an older brother from a family friend to take care of her."

Barbara let out a short, mocking laugh at his excuse.

"An older brother? Taking care of her right onto an OB-GYN exam table and putting a baby in her stomach?"

Keagan's face turned to ice as he strode to the desk, slamming both hands down on the wood to tower over her.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Barbara met his eyes without backing down an inch, digging her fingernails deep into her palms.

"I'm saying that you make me sick to my stomach, Keagan Cohen."

Keagan's pupils shrank, and his hand shot out to grab Barbara's chin with enough force to bruise the bone.

"Watch your mouth, Barbara. Don't forget your place, you're nothing more than my wife in name only."

The sharp pain in her jaw made Barbara gasp for air, but her eyes stayed cold and unyielding.

"Right, a wife in name only, so you don't even care when I'm in a plane crash and almost die."

Keagan's hand froze, a flash of shock crossing his eyes.

"A plane crash? What nonsense are you talking about?"

Barbara slapped his hand away and stepped back, pointing at the bloody gauze on her forehead and the seatbelt bruises on her neck.

"Flight UA452 from New York to Chicago skidded off the runway and caught fire, and I was on it."

Keagan's gaze finally landed on the cuts and bruises covering her skin, and for the first time, clear panic broke through his calm expression.

He took half a step forward without thinking and reached out his hand toward the gauze on her forehead.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Barbara backed away from his reach with a cold laugh, looking at him like a complete stranger.

"Tell you? I called you three times while you were busy listening to a fetal heartbeat with your childhood friend."

Dead silence fell over the study, with only the antique wall clock ticking loudly in the corner.

Keagan's hand stayed frozen in midair, his face pale and his throat moving hard without a single word coming out.

The air in the study stayed heavy and still as Keagan slowly pulled back his frozen hand, tugging open two buttons at his collar to hide the panic in his eyes.

He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of neat whiskey, and drank it down in one gulp, the burning alcohol bringing back his usual cold composure.

"Since you're standing here in one piece right now, it means you're fine."

He set the heavy glass down hard on the bar counter, his voice flat and unfeeling again.

"There's no need to use a pity play like this to get my sympathy."

Barbara stared at him in disbelief, her voice shaking with anger as she pointed at the bloody gauze on her forehead.

"A pity play? Keagan, do you really think the whole world revolves around putting on a show for you?"

Keagan turned around and slid both hands into his suit pockets, looking her over with cold eyes.

"Isn't that the truth? You came to the hospital on purpose just to check up on me and make a scene."

Tears spun in Barbara's eyes as she laughed out of pure anger, refusing to let a single drop fall.

"I'm making a scene? You're the one cheating in our marriage and getting your mistress pregnant, and somehow it's my fault?"

At the word "mistress," Keagan's face darkened completely, and he took two long strides to tower right over Barbara.

"Shut your mouth! Catina is not a mistress-her older sister lost her life saving my big brother years ago, and the Cohen family owes her a life!"

Barbara met his glare without a trace of fear, her lips curving into a mocking smile.

"Oh? So the Cohen family repays a life debt by having a married man father her child?"

Keagan raised his hand high as if to slap her across the face, stopping his palm just an inch away from her bruised cheek.

Barbara did not flinch or even blink, staring straight back at him with cold, dead eyes.

After several tense seconds, Keagan dropped his hand to his side, his chest heaving with anger.

He spun around and sat down in the wide leather chair behind his desk, folding his hands on the surface like the ruthless Wall Street M&A tycoon he was.

"Barbara, I have to remind you to face reality. You are nothing more than a contract wife who signed a prenuptial agreement."

An invisible hand crushed Barbara's chest so hard she could barely draw breath.

"Three years ago, you willingly signed that agreement to be my wife in name only in exchange for a wealthy life," Keagan said without a single change in his tone. "Don't dream about getting things you don't deserve, like my affection."

Barbara bit her lower lip until she tasted blood; she had married him in secret only to repay the man she thought saved her life at the airport years ago, yet he saw her as a greedy climber.

"As for Catina," Keagan continued, his voice full of firm protection, "she is pregnant and weak right now, and I won't allow anyone to bother her, including you."

Barbara took a deep breath to keep her voice steady.

"And what if I insist on getting in the way?"

Keagan let out a cold laugh full of contempt.

"With what right? With your poor background from some Appalachian small town, or with the monthly allowance you rely on me to give you?"

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in warning.

"Remember your place and play the role of Mrs. Cohen properly, or I won't mind making you walk out of this house with nothing."

Looking at the cold man behind the desk, Barbara felt her past three years of quiet devotion turn into a complete joke.

She did not argue or cry, just looked at him silently for so long that Keagan's brows furrowed in annoyance again.

"Have you looked enough? Get out."

Keagan waved his hand impatiently as if brushing away a fly.

Barbara turned around and walked slowly toward the study door, every step steady and firm.

Pausing with her hand on the doorframe, she spoke softly without looking back.

"Keagan, you're going to regret this."

Keagan snorted at her back.

"The word regret doesn't exist in my dictionary."

Barbara pulled the door open and stepped out into the dark hallway, shutting the study light and the man behind the heavy wood.

Back in the cold master bedroom, she left the lights off, walked straight into the walk-in closet, and dragged a dusty black suitcase out from the bottom drawer.

She opened the suitcase and threw in a few simple clothes with stiff, mechanical movements.

Reaching into the back of the closet, her fingers brushed against a brown paper envelope, making her pause.

She pulled the envelope out into the faint moonlight coming through the window, looking down at the bold black letters printed on the front: Prenuptial Agreement.

Tossing the envelope into the suitcase, she walked over to the vanity table, pulled open the drawer, and took out the divorce agreement she had prepared months ago.

She picked up her gold Montblanc pen from the table and, without a second of hesitation, signed her name neatly at the bottom: Barbara Burke.