He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 01

He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 01

Every powerful family in Texas was waiting for me to make a scene.

Waiting for me to lunge forward and tear apart the triumphant smirk on that woman’s face.

Because that woman, my rival Daisy, was standing beside my husband like a victor.

And my husband, Rhett, was holding the son she’d given him, showing him off to the world.

“The Walker family finally has an heir!”

His booming voice struck me like a slap.

I was his wife.

I had miscarried after an accident, and the doctors said I could no longer easily conceive.

I had spent five years building a business empire for the Walker family, and in return, I couldn’t even buy a shred of respect.

I looked at them and smiled.

When a server offered me a glass of iced tea, I thanked him softly, impossibly calm.

I saw Rhett let out a quiet breath, thinking the storm had passed.

He was wrong.

His empire would burn to ash in the embers of that smile.

…

After the barbecue, I started to change.

The first thing to go was the social media for Walker Organic Produce, the brand I had built from the ground up. In a single, decisive email, I transferred all administrative permissions to the company’s legal department. It was as clean as severing a dead nerve.

Then came my habits.

I stopped leaving the porch light on for Rhett when he stumbled in after midnight. For the first time, I locked the door to my study. I canceled my next appointment with the best fertility specialist in Texas—an appointment I had once kept every month with the punctual dread of a prisoner awaiting sentencing.

Three years ago, on this very ranch, a herd of bison had stampeded. I shoved Rhett out of the way and took the hit myself, losing our first child. The doctor said it would be nearly impossible for me to conceive naturally again. From then on, for the sake of a so-called “heir” for the Walker family, I endured countless painful treatments, my arms a roadmap of needle marks. At the same time, I spearheaded the modernization of the family business, transforming a failing Texas ranch into a nationally recognized luxury organic brand.

Now, I no longer replied to emails about ranch operations. I declined every invitation to family dinner. I spent my time organizing an enormous inventory of assets, every line item a testament to the blood and sweat I had poured into this place.

Rhett finally noticed something was wrong.

He came to my study and paused when he found the door locked. He used his spare key to get in. His expensive, custom-made cowboy boots were silent on the plush carpet, but the arrogance of a Texas landowner rolled in with him all the same.

“Ellie,” he called softly, in the same placating tone he’d used on me a thousand times before.

I was facing my computer, and I didn’t turn around. I didn’t even stop typing. In the past, I would have been on my feet in an instant, taking his coat and pouring him a bourbon.

Not anymore.

“Do you need something?” My voice was level, with an almost imperceptible chill. “I’m handling some private business.”

“Private business?” A flicker of panic entered his voice. He stepped closer, trying to read the tension in my back.

His Southern gentleman mask was beginning to crack.

“Ellie, I know you’re angry,” he began, his tone indulgent, as if he believed himself endlessly patient. “But you have to understand. My father is sick. All he wants is to see the Walker bloodline continue before he dies. This has nothing to do with us. Daisy and the child are temporary. You are the mistress of the Walker family.”