BETRAYED ONCE: FROM NOTHING TO BILLIONIARE POWER

The wall of the room shook when Ryan forced himself up, placing his bare feet on the cold floor. The thin hospital gown brushed against his ankles as he steadied himself beside the bed. The lamp on the bedside table cast a soft glow across his pale face. 

He had indeed lost a lot of blood during the surgery, and if not for the IV line running from his veins and the bandages wrapped around his torso, no one would have guessed he had just come out of a life-threatening operation a few hours ago.

“Your surgery was a success." The voice came from behind him.

Ryan slowly turned his head to the young doctor who stood near the doorway. His face was partially hidden behind a surgical mask, but Ryan didn’t care about the man’s age. He only cared about one thing.

“M… My son," Ryan swallowed hard, his throat painfully dry. “Is my son going to live?”

“Yes, the transplant was also successful, and recovery is going well. Ms. Zhou is currently with him," he replied.

‘You mean Mrs. Wright,’ Ryan thought as the image of her beauty crawled into his mind.

The doctor's expression darkened when he noticed Ryan's unsteady stance. “You’re not supposed to be moving,” he said but didn't step forward to help.

“Can I see him?” Ryan asked immediately, ignoring his warning.

The doctor hesitated, dropping his gaze on his file. “I'm sorry, but your name is not on the visitor log.”

And there it was, the hidden irrigation. Though the doctor's voice was calm, his face wasn't. Since arriving at the hospital with his wife, Ryan had felt the quiet disdain from everyone; even the nurses gave him dismissive glances even when his wife owned the hospital.

To them, Ryan was nothing but a leach who married a wealthy woman. The hospital, who didn't have a choice, felt his presence had stained the VIP prestige by being admitted there, and Ryan had endured it until now.

“I need to see my son,” he said, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed through his chest as he stepped toward the door.

The doctor, irritated by his protest, frowned. “Ms. Zhou gave strict instructions that you are not allowed to leave this room.”

Ryan furrowed his brow. "In case you're forgetting, I'm her husband, and I just gave my kidney to our son. I think I've earned the right to see him."

The expression on the man's face told him that the title holds no weight. Without waiting for permission, he walked past him, and the doctor didn't stop him.

The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air the moment Ryan slipped out the door. He knew this hallway like the back of his hand. He'd helped his father-in-law secure the funding for this wing by designing the monitoring system in the ICU. It was his prototype, his hours, his sweat, and none of the staff even recognized him or respected him. The only name of importance to them is the Zhou family crest embedded at the entrance.

Ryan moves towards Room 214, where they'd taken his son. That's where Zoula would be, holding their son's hand, whispering that Daddy's gift would make everything better.

The door to 214 was slightly ajar, and light spilled through the crack. He could hear the soft laughter escaping the room. He knew who the voice belonged to, because he had fallen in love with it six years ago. Another voice followed, deeper, and familiar in a different way.

Ryan's hand found the door frame and pushed it open.

“Zoula, are you—” The room stopped, and the words hung in his throat. Ryan's heart skipped several beats, and the empty space in which one of his kidneys was twisted with pain. 

His wife was sitting on another man’s lap with his face buried against her neck as their lips locked together in a deep kiss. A passion that he had only shared with her.

Ryan’s mind went blank, and his gaze slowly dropped to the man’s hand gripping Zoula’s waist and continuing sliding lower and grabbing her.

Ryan’s chest tightened. “Zoula!” His voice yelled before he could raise her gown, and something told him it wasn't the first time he had done that. 

The two figures jerked apart, and for a brief moment, fear flickered across Zoula’s face. When she recognized who it was, her fear slowly vanished and was replaced with irritation.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” she asked, ignoring the expression on his face as she adjusted her gown. “Who allowed you to leave your room?”

Ryan stared at her, disbelief flooding his face. A bitter laugh escaped him. “I came to see my son,” he said hoarsely. “And you’re here sitting intimately in another man’s arms!” His chest stung with pain as the words escaped his lips.

The man is trying hard to adjust his trouser cuff. “Your son?” He turned to Zoula with amusement. “You didn’t tell him?”

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat when he looked at his wife, and something in her expression made his stomach twist. 

What hasn't she told me?

“No,” Zoula replied calmly. “I was planning to tell him after the surgery.”

The man chuckled. "Damn, this is going to be interesting,” he said, with his hand softly slapping at Zoula's bottom before returning to his chair.

Ryan eyed the dagger with rage, and the little hint of pleasure on his wife's face made his entire body weaker.

Zoula reached into her handbag, and her fingers found a folded document, and she held it out. When Ryan didn't move, she tossed it. “Take it,”

The paper, knowing its assignment, drifted into his trembling hands. Ryan stared down at it, and the words at the top made his vision blur.

‘DNA Paternity Test Results,’

"W…What is this?” he stuttered with his heart skipping another beat.

“What does it look like?” the man said with a mocking smile.

Ryan’s eyes dropped back to the conclusion at the bottom, written in a cold, clinical language excluding him as the father of their son.

The remaining color drained from his face. The room felt small, and the walls pressed in. The hum of the lights grew louder, drowning out everything except the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

‘This can’t be real,’ he muttered to himself.

Ryan finally looked at Zoula. “Is this some kind of joke?!” 

“No,” a voice answered from behind him, and he turned to see the same doctor in the doorway, his expression emotionless. “Mr. Wright Jr. is not biologically yours.”

The words didn’t strike Ryan like a blow; rather, they settled slowly. Like a cold ash drifting over his soul.

Memories instantly flooded his mind, like the first time he had held a child, which he thought was his, and watched the tiny fingers curl around his thumb. Every day watching him grow and running toward him whenever he returned home late from work, with his hands still smelling of solder and oil.

A hollow laugh escaped Ryan’s lips. “Then who’s the father?”

The doctor avoided his gaze. “The family has requested that information remain confidential.”

The man standing behind Zoula stepped forward, extending his hand like a businessman at a meeting. "Christopher James. We've met at family dinners. I'm the father."

Understanding cut through Ryan like a knife. The name echoed through his mind. He was the same man his father-in-law had recently promoted to the company’s board of directors. The same man his wife had been praising for securing massive corporate contracts.

Ryan slowly turned to Zoula. She showed no guilt, no shame, but rather only a small, proud smile. 

“You were useful,” Zoula began.