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🚨 THE BILLIONAIRE’S DOWNFALL: MY FATHER’S VENGEANCE 🚨 / Chapter 3 / 6

Chapter 3 - The Mid-Night Emergency

The chaos in the room escalated as the agents moved in to separate Vanessa and Daniel. But suddenly, a sharp, blinding pain shot through my lower abdomen.

"Ah!" I gasped, clutching my stomach.

The heart monitor beside me began to beep erratically. The steady, rhythmic sound turned into a frantic, high-pitched alarm.

"Claire!" my father yelled, rushing to my side.

"The baby..." I choked out. The pain was different this time. It wasn't the dull ache from Daniel's kick; it was a tearing, crushing sensation. The monitor's screen showed my baby’s heart rate plummeting dangerously low.

Doctors and nurses burst through the door, pushing my father and the agents aside.

"She’s hemorrhaging!" a doctor shouted. "Get her to the OR immediately! We need to perform an emergency C-section!"

As my bed was unlocked and wheeled furiously down the hallway, I looked back one last time. Daniel was pinned against the wall by the FBI, his face bruised from Vanessa's attack, watching me with a mixture of horror and realization. If my baby died, his charges would upgrade to fetal manslaughter.

"Hold on, Claire! Just hold on!" my father cried out, running alongside the gurney until the double doors of the operating room slammed shut in his face.

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

The bright lights of the OR blinded me. The oxygen mask was clamped over my face. As the anesthesia began to pull me under into absolute darkness, my last thought wasn't about the millions of dollars, the mistress, or the revenge.

Please, save my baby.

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