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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 876    |    Released on: 30/04/2026

p to Caden's chin, making sur

one resting on her nightstand vibrated with a

gainst her ribs. She had used cash for the cab, but she had hailed it through the city's digital transit app on her phon

short. Arla Noel

in the hotel room-the steel handcuffs, the blood

ny corner of the heavy curtain. She stared out into

he trees. But the heavy, suffocating sensation of be

ened her banking app and wiped the digital receipt for the yello

p beneath the bustlin

underground command center. The air was cold, smelling of ozone

black tactical shirt. The deep gashes on his wri

g the center of the room. His assistant, Jalen, was typing

hair around. He held out a physical file folde

the file. He

Arla Noel stared back at him. Her face w

tracing the line of her jaw. His jaw muscles

he adopted daughter of the Sargent family. Currently e

ric pressure. The air turned freezing. Ewald's eyes sna

ordered, his voice a

r in Long Island," Jalen swallowed hard, pointing to a blinking red dot on t

iv

e Sargent family's private social accounts. I don't mean to overstep, but..." He turne

wald repeated,

torm. Six years ago. The night the hotel's surveillance blacked out. The night you missed your schedu

ith dark hair and a stubborn chin. He wasn't looking at the camera-he w

er scanning

low, steady metronome, sla

scent that had pulled him back from the edge of a flashback that nearly destroyed him. He'd thou

if it had

olled breath-the kind he to

wald demanded, his voi

ulling up another document. "Publicly, he's conside

was unknown. She had never reported it. Ne

Initiate level-one surveillance on the Sargent Mano

burning into the pho

ntact sample acquisition. A hair follicle. Saliva

ented allocation of military-grade r

tone leaving zero room for debate. "Highest

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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.”