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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 6 

Word Count: 737    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

y rain outside the manor. Red and blue lights flashed through the

m carrying a stretcher, brea

ball into the trash can and let her shoulders slump, perf

e medical supplies on the table and nodded at Arla. "Good call o

Arla, Blair turned her head. Her eyes were locked onto Arla,

o meet her gaze, playing the part of

ed into the distance. The butler let out a long sigh and or

or for Arla, but she shook her head, claim

fa. Caden was standing exactly wher

her posture straight and her steps measured as she walked them d

threshold, Arla slammed the

e deadbolt. A loud, solid

ws and yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut, com

d, the adrenaline that had been keep

Caden standing by the edge of the

oor crashed into her mind, violently colliding with

d. She collapsed on

den against her chest, holding him so

ushing guilt, and the explosive relief

and broke down. She sobbed uncontrollably, her whole bod

s terrified by his mot

e wrapped his arms around her neck

d, his voice soft and trembling. "

itely worse. She cried harder, pulling him closer, feeling his act

. Arla took a shaky breath and loosened her grip. She pu

orehead, silently swearing to burn the worl

he moved, Caden's oversized pajama sleeve sl

oom lights hit

ly halting its emotional spiral. This wasn't a one-time event. It was a long, silent torture that had been happening right under her nose. In that single, terrifying instant, her suffocating grief didn't just vanish;

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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.”