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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 755    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

cked together in her lap. Her fingernails dug so deepl

land blurred past in the heavy rain. Her heart ham

body lying on the basement floor p

om her clutch and tapped

he exact hour Blair had used the excuse of "checking his

a forward as it stopped outside the massiv

eak. She shoved the door open and ran

ths of this prison perfectly. She slipped behind the perfectly manicure

ive. She pressed her back against the wet brick wall, waiting for the

e door. It was unlocked,

Blair thought she had hours before anyone would discover her. That was the key-Blair was acting alone r

ht. Not e

y. Water dripped from her ruined dress, l

one hand. Her bare feet hit the freezing marble of the main corridor. She moved lik

double doors to her adoptive pare

ept toward the sharp corner that

just an inch. A sickly, yellow light

eart stopped beating. Her ears strained, picking

mper. The sound of a small

solute ice. Her pupils dilated, consum

the gap in the door

ust and broken furniture. Shoved i

to his chest. His small hands were clamped tightly over his own mouth

k to the door, was Blair Sargen

d fingers was a five-inch, heavy metal sew

sick expression. She took a st

r voice dripping with venom. "You don't even know

bric of his pajama shirt, pulling it tight as h

ed the collar of Caden's shirt a

is bare knees slammed hard agai

ming the sharp point directly at the soft flesh of

ity snapped. The hatred from her past life boil

the hallway console table was a

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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.”