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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 775    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

were glued to the horrific tapestry of p

ist. Her fingers clamped down harder t

lips, and his free hand instantly shot over to grab the fa

her daze. She instantly loosened her grip,

o his shoulder. The puncture wounds didn't stop at his forearm. They trailed all the way up t

ach hollowed out, acid bur

t as a broken, terrifying

o look at her. His little fingers twisted the f

knife twisting in Arla's gut. She took a deep breath, forcin

voice incredibly soft, but firm. "Baby, look at Mommy. I chased the bad peo

his mother's red eyes. His bottom lip quivered, and t

houlders shaking. "She said I was bad. She sa

ls dug so fiercely into her palms that the skin broke, warm b

a asked, her heart breaking into a mill

er, his hands gr

told you, you would get kicked out of the bi

int

a bomb. Arla's pupils cont

iercing her heart violently collided wi

Auntie Blair poke me. But he just smiled. He gave

thread of Arla's

in her past life wasn't an accident.

ed to treat Caden like his own blood. He wasn't just the man who murder

nly vanished, replaced by an eerie, a

bathroom, grabbed a tube of antibioti

lear gel onto her fingertips and began to apply i

at the cold gel, but

in his eyes when he pressed the ring into her hand. 'Once we're legally married, Arla. Once the boy is officially recognized under my name, the lawyers will unlock the estate accounts. Everyth

tissue. Her eyes were as

ng to stay, and she was going to drag Clinton

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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.”