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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 790    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

and gasping as they dragged her out of the dusty attic and down the hall into the brightly lit

eavy medical kit and slammed

the large leather sofa, positioning his small body in its shadow. "Stay right

es drawn up, his hands over his ears. He had l

e. She snapped open the metal latches of the medical kit and scanne

ash across her cheek had stopped bleeding freely, but the wound was still raw, the

high-concentration medical alcohol, and beside it, a sma

cked u

is wound is serious. If it isn't thoroughly cleaned right now, the risk of infection is extr

pain-sharpened with a new and visceral terror. For a woman whose entire value in this household had been

take hold. She h

cohol, then added a generous amount of the astrin

pad. He opened his mouth, then closed it. The fear of b

on Blair's shoulder, pinning her against

essed the soaked cotton fir

from her throat-raw, animal, nothing like the cal

er unyielding. "This is going to sting. It has to,

she cleaned the wound. Blair's thrashing grew weaker, her screams dissolving into

mped against the cushions, her chest heaving, tears cutting tracks through the blood on h

chest since she had seen the needle in Blai

fresh cotton pad

shook her head, a small, frantic move

nts' view. Her face was inches from Blair's, her

"what happened in that attic will seem like mercy

n that the woman standing over her was not the Arla she had tormented for years. The Arla

rla wa

down at her now ha

d then squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could make the trut

n pad aside and turned toward the me

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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.”