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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 762    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

a violent shiver strai

instinct screaming in her brain took over. She threw her weight against the

e thud. The heavy wood completely severed the

or, her torn black dress whipping around her legs. The

er palm against the down button, hittin

hit the lobby button, pressing her back against the cold metal wa

iggering the memory of falling into the dark void of death. She bit down hard on her

unded her. S

hair falling over her face to block the curious stare of the night-shi

of freezing rain instantly soaked through her

hing through the puddles. It screeched to a halt. Arla ripped t

hree crumpled, soaking wet hundred-dollar bi

Long Island. N

halt before catching traction. The cab

t scent of vanilla-the woman's scent-

violent, blood-red haze that had clouded his vision fi

posing raw tissue. He didn't feel the pain. What he felt was the absolute absen

rified, doe-like eyes burned

jaw locked tight. The muscles in h

h of twisting meta

formed, and he tore the entire heavy headboard fixture directly from

e room, stopping at his discarded suit jacket on the sofa. He reached in

glowed a toxic green. He hit a single b

ected i

nt, Jalen, answered. His vo

om his wrists onto the expensive ru

a in this hotel. Cut their exte

d. What's

want her entire identity, background,

picking up on the rare, dangerous shift

floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the rai

minated the harsh, unforg

in the thick fibers of the r

s large fist around it, squeezing until the sh

ho she was or where she was running. She

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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire
One Night With The Unstable Billionaire
“Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son. But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest. As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh. "Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body. Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief. In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund. To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent. Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash. She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money. The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair. Then, she gasped for air. The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite. Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago-the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic. This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.”