Breaking The Billionaires Destined Script

My ex-husband hated me with a vengeance that burned like a fever, all for the sake of the girl whod been his forever dream. I did the only sensible thing: I took the settlement money and disappeared, leaving everything behindincluding our child.

Six years later, a miniature version of him, a little marshmallow of a boy, knocked on my door.

He was wearing a bright yellow backpack, his small face set in a mask of solemnity that was far too old for him. "Dominic doesn't want me anymore," he announced, his voice steady despite the slight tremble of his lower lip. "I'm moving in with you."

I froze, the air caught in my lungs. Before I could even find my voice, he tilted his head back and began reciting legal statutes with the precision of a court reporter. "Under the Family Code, parents have a non-delegable duty to support and maintain their minor children..."

He didn't get to finish. I stepped aside, opening the door wide. "Get in here."

...

The warm light of the entryway hit his face, and for a split second, his eyes shimmered. Then, with a haughty little huff, he marched inside on his sturdy legs.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the boyMilo, as I knew him from the few photos Id dared to look at over the yearsbegan surveying my life. He gripped the straps of his backpack tight when he caught me watching him.

"Im Milo," he said, puffing out his chest.

The tone was unmistakable. It was a declaration of war and a plea for recognition all at once. He wanted me to know exactly whose blood ran through his veins. Not that he needed to say it; with that jawline and those piercing dark eyes, he was a carbon copy of Dominic.

When I didn't immediately fall at his feet, he looked slightly deflated. He turned his head away, pouting.

I took his backpack, hanging it on the hook by the door, and led him toward the bathroom. "Wash up. Dinners almost ready."

He gave a small, obedient nod. By the time Id set the table, he had already scrambled up into the dining chair, looking tiny against the high back.

"Why are you here, Milo? Really?" I asked.

He poked at a piece of broccoli with his fork, his head drooping low. His voice came out muffled, thick with unshed tears. "We had a fight. He threw things. He told me to get out, told me never to come back to the estate again."

A runaway.

I remembered how fiercely the Thorne family had fought for custody, nearly burying me in lawsuits and threats of jail time just to keep me away from him. He was their crown prince. I figured Dominic was probably tearing the city apart looking for him right now.

Watching him eat, a lump formed in my throat. I hadn't prepared for guests. It was just a simple stir-fry and soup. Milo was clearly a picky eaterhe meticulously picked out every sliver of onion and carrotbut eventually, only the greens were left. He stared at them like they were poison, stole a quick glance at me, and then, with the dramatic resolve of a martyr, closed his eyes and swallowed them whole.

The arrogant little prince who had walked in ten minutes ago was gone, replaced by a kid who was trying so hard to be "good" that it broke my heart. It seemed he hadn't been mistreated at the Thorne mansion, but he was certainly disciplined.

I cleaned up the dishes, expecting a frantic knock on the door at any moment. But nine-thirty came and went. The hallway remained silent.

Six-year-olds can only stay awake so long. Milos eyes were drooping. He pulled a pair of dinosaur pajamas out of his bag and looked around my cramped studio apartment.

He wrinkled his nose. "Your house is so small. Why is there only one bed?"

"Are we... are we sharing?" he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

I glanced at the clock, wondering where the hell Dominic was. I sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Well make it work for tonight."

I expected a tantrum. Compared to the Thorne estate, this place was a glorified closet. Instead, Milo just bit his lip, a flash of something that looked suspiciously like relief crossing his face.

He scrubbed his face, changed into his pajamas, and climbed under the covers. Just like at dinner, he was playing the part of the perfect guest. He wiggled around until he was tucked in like a little silkworm, only his big eyes visible. Then, he reached under his pillowGod knows when hed hidden it thereand pulled out a book of fairy tales.

"Aren't you going to read to me?"

The hope in his eyes was so bright it was almost unbearable.

After Milo fell asleep, I pulled up the number that had been sitting in my block list for six years.

My thumb hovered over the "unblock" button, trembling. I couldn't do it.

Dominic and I... we were a lifetime ago.

When my familys business collapsed, the Thornes decided I was a liability. They arranged a match between Dominic and Beccathe girl everyone said was his "true" soulmate. Dominic fought them. He gave up his inheritance, took a literal beating from his grandfather that left him bedridden for weeks, all for me.

I had cried over his bruised body, and he had just smiled, wiping my tears away, promising me wed be okay. We were young enough to believe love was a shield. We eloped, I got pregnant, and I spent nine months dreaming of our future.

Then came the day of the delivery.

The pain was agonizing. I called Dominic dozens of times, but he never picked up. A neighbor eventually drove me to the hospital.

When I woke up from the C-section, the man standing over me wasn't my husband. He was a stranger. His eyes were cold, filled with a visceral disgust, as if looking at me made him sick.

It was Becca who eventually came to my room to explain the "truth." She spoke about "narratives" and "destiny," claiming I was just a glitch in the system. She was the protagonist of his life, and I was a side character who had overstayed her welcome. She told me the "universe" had corrected itself. Dominics love for me had been a mistake, and now, it had been inverted into pure, unadulterated loathing.

As she left, she looked at me with chilling pity. "Have you thought about what will happen to that child?"

I was broken. My parents had died in a car crash on their way to the hospital to see the baby. I was alone, hemorrhaging money I didn't have, and the man I loved looked at me like I was dirt.

I remember standing by the hospital window, thinking about jumping. Then, I heard a cry from the bassinet.

I walked over, looking at that wrinkled little life, and a horrific thought took root: If I go, what happens to him? Would Becca hurt him? Would Dominic hate him the way he hated me?

Maybe it was better to take him with me.

My hands were shaking as I reached for his tiny neck. In that moment, the crying stopped. The baby opened his eyesred-rimmed and brightand looked straight at me, as if he were asking for a hug.

A nurse burst in a second later, pulling me away. I stared at my hands, cold sweat pouring down my back. I had almost killed my own son.

The Thornes heard about the incident. The grandfather came for the child. I didn't fight. I signed the divorce papers, gave up my rights, and took the two-million-dollar settlement. I needed the money for my parents medical debts and funeral, and I needed to get away before I destroyed what was left of my soul.

Dominic never showed his face. He hated me too much to even say goodbye.

So I moved on. I told myself it was for the best.

Milo rolled over in his sleep, his warm little body pressing against mine. His tiny hand gripped the fabric of my t-shirt, as if terrified Id vanish if he let go.

I brushed a stray hair from his forehead, my heart aching. If he knew that his mother had once considered ending his life, would he still be sleeping here? Hed probably run as far away as he could.

The next morning, Dominic still hadn't called.

I couldn't figure out the game he was playing. Milo was six; he couldn't have found my apartment on his own without help. Had Dominic sent him?

I woke Milo up and hailed a cab to take him to his kindergarten. It was across the city, an hour's ride. Before we got out, he gripped my hand, making me swear on my life that Id be there to pick him up.

As we approached the school gates, his eyes suddenly lit up. He saw a sleek black car idling at the curb.

Milo pulled me along, but as we got closer to the car, he slowed his pace. He intentionally stepped in front of a chubby little boy who had just stepped out of a luxury SUV.

With a voice loud enough for every parent on the sidewalk to hear, Milo chirped, "Mom, youre definitely coming to get me after school, right?"

It was the first time hed called me "Mom."

The chubby kid stared, eyes wide. "You have a mom? Why hasn't she ever dropped you off before?"

Milo lifted his chin, his expression pure Thorne arrogance. "My mom is very busy. She runs a massive company. She took a special day off just to be with me today."

He emphasized the word "special" with a bite.

He led me toward the door like a victorious little general. But just before he went inside, he turned back, his composure crumbling for a split second. "...You'll be here?"

When I didn't answer immediately, panic flared in his eyes. "You promised in the car! Adults aren't allowed to lie to kids!"

I knelt down, straightening his collar, and ruffled his soft hair. "Ill be here. I promise."

He tried to hide his grin, failing miserably. "Fine. I guess I can wait for a little while."

I watched him disappear inside, but a nagging feeling tugged at my gut. I went to the front office and asked to speak with his teacher.

The teacher was hesitant at first, but then she sighed, leaning over her desk. "Look, I know the Thorne family is... complicated. But I have to say something."

"No matter how busy parents are, the child should come first. Milo has been here for three years, and not oncenot oncehas anyone come to a parent-teacher conference. The other kids tease him. They say hes an orphan. Its affecting him, Ms. Thorne."

Nobody had ever come?

Even if Dominic hated the boy, wouldn't he send an assistant? A nanny?

I felt a surge of rage. For the first time, I wondered if giving up custody had been the right thing. I might have been poor, but I would have given him everything. He was a billionaire's son, but emotionally, he was a beggar.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. I needed to have it out with Dominic. If he didn't want the boy, Id take him. I wasn't the broken girl I was six years ago. I could raise him.

As the phone started to ring, a familiar melody sounded right behind me.

My spine turned to ice.

I turned around. Standing next to a black Bentley was a tall, imposing figure.

Six years hadn't changed him much. He looked harder, colder, his presence more suffocating than I remembered. He was holding his vibrating phone, his eyes narrowed as he stared at me.

"Youve been hiding for a long time," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Are you finally ready to show your face?"