Zareena’s POV

Poppy’s hands trembled as she shoved a bag into my arms, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

“Ma’am, I’ll transfer you to Hackensack right now,” she choked out. “Please—you have to hang on!”

But the pain was relentless. It tore through me like fire, ripping screams from my throat. My body was giving out. I could barely hear her anymore. Everything spun. Then—blackness.

When I came to, it was a jolt of agony.

A bucket of freezing water crashed down on me, soaking me to the bone. I gasped, coughing violently as I shivered on the icy floor, too weak to even sit up.

And then I saw him.

Sullivan stood over me, his arms crossed, his face twisted in a look of pure disgust like I was some shit under his shoes.

“You’re awake? Then stop faking it,” he snapped. “You knew damn well I’m making the official heir announcement with Shannah tomorrow, and you still made a scene, running off to another city to get “treated.” What—trying to frame Shannah like she hurt you?”

Behind him stood Shannah, cradling her newborn, her face streaked with tears. Her voice broke as she looked at me, eyes trembling.

“Zareena… I know you hate me. If you want to take it out on someone, take it out on me. Why drag his mother into this? Why take my baby?”

She started sobbing harder.

“Before your assistant was dragged away, she was still shouting that Terese was going back to handle the paperwork to adopt my child… saying I’m not fit to be the heir’s mother…”

Her words hit like daggers. I wanted to scream that it wasn’t true—that I hadn’t done any of it—but my throat was scorched raw. I opened my mouth. Nothing. Only air.

Still, I shook my head and tried.

“I… didn’t…” I rasped, barely audible. “Please… just take me to a hospital… the babies… I can’t… hold on…”

“You’re lying again!” Sullivan snapped, clearly fed up. His brow furrowed. “My mom rushed out of the hospital and brought the lawyers to work overnight—don’t think I don’t know it was your idea. You think if you steal her baby, it’ll make you the official mother of the heir?”

He let out a cold, hollow laugh.

“You already gave birth yesterday, didn’t you? And now you’re here pretending you’re still in labor, half-dead? Trying to guilt me into pitying you?” He sneered. “Save it.”

My whole body ached. Every muscle screamed. Between my legs, I could feel the crusted blood clinging to my skin. The smell—iron, sweat, death—hung heavy around me.

Shannah gagged, covering her mouth, her eyes welling up again.

“Zareena… you know I can’t take the smell of blood after giving birth… Why won’t you clean yourself up?” Her voice cracked, soft and fragile. “Are you trying to make me pass out?”

She collapsed into Sullivan’s chest like a wilting flower, delicate and pale.

“Look at you!” Sullivan spat. “You’re a mess—filthy, disgusting, reeking. You’re a damn embarrassment!”

He raised a hand, and without hesitation, his men returned—this time with more buckets.

Ice water slammed against my skin, again and again, until I was numb, shivering so hard my bones felt like they’d snap. My lips turned blue. My body went limp. Still, they kept going—until Sullivan finally waved them off.

Meanwhile, Shannah sobbed harder in his arms. Her voice trembled with hysteria.

“Please, Zareena… I’m begging you. Don’t take my baby. If you’re really going to… then I’ll just jump out the window and die!”

She broke free from his arms and ran toward the window, looking ready to leap. Sullivan caught her, pulling her into his arms protectively.

Then he turned on me, eyes burning with rage.

I had barely enough strength to grab the hem of his pants, desperate—pleading.

But he kicked my hand away like it was nothing.

He crouched beside me, his voice low and deadly.

“You really think getting my mother involved is enough to keep your seat as the heir’s mother? I’ve already sent people to lock up the family villa. It’s over, Zareena. Whatever plan you had with my mother—it ends now.”

His next words sent ice through my blood.

“And you—how many times have I warned you not to mess with Shannah or her baby? But you never listen. Fine. You leave me no choice.”

He turned to his men, his tone flat, like he was just ordering dinner.

“She pushed Shannah to the brink. Almost made her jump. Time to make her pay. Go. Pull out her father’s oxygen tube. Then toss him off the roof.”

“No!” My scream tore from the depths of my soul. “Sullivan! That’s my dad! He saved your life!”

“So what?” he hissed. “He saved me just so he could sell you to me. So his daughter could marry into wealth. So his grandson would be my heir. He cashed in that favor for money.”

He stood, looking down like I was already buried.

“Well, he got what he wanted. I married you. I even let you carry my child.”

He paused, his face like stone.

“But you couldn’t even keep the first one alive. And that’s on you. I’ve repaid my debt. I don’t owe either of you a goddamn thing anymore!”

Zareena’s POV

“Do it!” Sullivan urged.

I didn’t even think. I lunged at his men, desperately trying to stop them. But one of them kicked me so hard my body flew across the room and hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud.

The blood that had already dried between my legs tore free again from the force of the blow. It came gushing out like a ruptured dam, soaking the white tiles in seconds.

A scream ripped out of me, raw and primal, as pain exploded through my body. I curled in on myself, shaking, my hands clutching uselessly at my belly. It was too late. I could feel it.

Sullivan stepped forward, hand outstretched, about to drag me again—but then he froze.

His eyes locked onto my abdomen, now clearly swollen, round, unmistakable. Then he saw the blood—fresh, bright, everywhere.

His face went ghostly white in an instant.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and pulled me into his arms. “Shit,” he muttered, panic flickering in his eyes for the first time. “What the hell…”

He spun around and glared at Shannah. “What the hell is going on?!” he barked. “I told you to deal with her delivery! You told me she already gave birth yesterday! That the baby was in the nursery!”

He pointed at my belly, his voice rising. “Then why the hell is she still this big?! Why is she still bleeding?!”

For a split second, Shannah’s expression faltered. But then she blinked rapidly and quickly squeezed out tears, pulling out her phone with shaking hands.

“She did give birth yesterday,” she sobbed. “The baby’s been in the nursery since then! I knew she’d pull something like this, so I had the doctor take a video just in case—look!”

She handed him the phone. On the screen was a grainy, shaky video of a baby who clearly looked at least a month old. The footage was awfully fake beyond belief.

But Sullivan barely looked at it.

And he believed her.

His face twisted, rage overtaking panic. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me upright like I weighed nothing. Then he slammed me back onto the cold hard floor.

My head cracked against the tiles. A sharp snap—and then the warmth of blood, pooling fast behind my skull.

“You lied to me?!” he snarled. His voice was hoarse now, shaking with fury. “You faked a pregnancy?! Used fake blood to make me feel sorry for you?!”

He bared his teeth. “How disgusting can you get? You think I’d fall for it again? Dream on!”

Then his foot came down—hard—on my belly.

“No—!” I choked out, but it was too late.

Another kick. Another burst of blood.

Then another.

And another.

Each brutal stomp stole the air from my lungs. Each one sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through me. The floor around me turned slick with blood, but my limbs were going numb. My body was shutting down.

“Aah! Please… stop…”

My voice cracked. I tried to beg. But my throat was raw, and my mouth tasted like iron. Even the pain was fading now—just dull pressure, duller fear. I couldn’t even cry anymore.

I lay there in silence, curled up in a puddle of what was left of me.

Finally, he stopped. Breathing hard, he yanked off his bloodstained jacket and tossed it aside.

Then he turned to Shannah, all tenderness and guilt, like none of it had just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I shouldn’t have let you deal with this mess. I’ll take care of it. And afterward… how about a honeymoon? The islands, just the two of us. My way of making it up to you—does that sound okay?”

Shannah shook her head gently, tears sparkling in her eyes. Her voice was soft—sweet, even.

“It’s okay… really. She hates me so much. If you leave now, what if she comes up with something else to separate me from the baby?”

She hesitated just long enough for the words to sting. Then added softly, “Maybe I should just go. Take the baby with me. Let your child be the heir.”

Every syllable was sugar-coated poison. And it worked.

Sullivan’s gaze darkened. His voice was calm again, but the ice underneath it cut like a knife.

“Don’t worry,” he said coldly. “She won’t get another chance to hurt you. Or our baby.”

He turned to his men and gestured sharply. “Lock her in the basement. She stays there until after the press conference—after I announce my son as the heir.”

They dragged me away like I was nothing—some animal bleeding out on the marble floor. Behind me, a streak of red followed like a trail of death.

My vision kept fading in and out. Pain blurred the world. But somehow, I managed to hold on to one last breath.

And with that breath, I begged.

“Please… Sullivan… I only asked your mother to help with our divorce. I wasn’t trying to take her baby…

“My babies… they already died once because of you. And now… they won’t make it this time either…

“I’ve already stepped aside for you. For her. For your happy family…

“Please, just… leave my dad… alone.”

Zareena’s POV

My tears mixed with my blood, splashing to the floor one drop at a time.

Sullivan was clearly losing patience. “Alright, enough. As long as you stay put in the basement today, I won’t—”

But before he could finish—the ground trembled beneath us. A deafening explosion tore through the air.

And then… my eyes went wide in horror as I see him.

My… My dad.

His body plunged from the shattered railing above, hitting the concrete with a bone-crushing thud—right in front of me.

His eyes—those warm, gentle eyes that used to light up every time he saw me—were now rolled back, glazed over with death. Blood gushed from his nose, his mouth, his ears. His skull was split open like a cracked porcelain doll.

“Daddy!”

A scream tore from my throat, so raw and guttural it barely sounded human.

I threw myself forward, crawling on hands and knees, fingers scrabbling desperately across the floor. The concrete shredded my skin, blood smeared beneath me—but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel it.

I just needed to reach him.

But before I could even brush his fingers, a pair of strong arms yanked me backward. Hard.

“No!” I shrieked. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Take her away,” Sullivan said lazily, not looking at me. “She’s as good as dead. If she dies now, maybe it’s better for her.”

“Y-You—” I choked, trembling, my voice cracking under the weight of rage and heartbreak. “You bastard—Sullivan!!”

I broke down completely, crying and shouting like a madwoman. “You killed your own child! And now—now you’ve murdered the man who saved your worthless life! You think you’ll walk away from this? You’re going to rot in hell!”

He finally looked at me then. Just a glance. Slightly furrowed brows, as if my pain was little more than an inconvenience. Then—he sighed.

“Lock her up,” he said, almost wearily. “Like I told you.”

As if I were a toy he’d already broken, now being sent off for safekeeping, he added, “And for the next few days… if she asks for anything, give it to her. Take good care of her.”

Sullivan’s POV

I spared no expense preparing for the press conference. Of course, it was not just a conference; it’s the time the world would know who my heir was. Money meant nothing if it meant solidifying Shannah’s place—and mine. The world needed to know who she was to me.

To start, I booked out every single gold store in the city and had them craft a peace lock made of solid gold—so big it was taller than a grown man.

Then, I dropped tens of millions to buy an entire island, naming it after Shannah.

I even broke my own rule and created a social media account—something he’d never done before—under the handle [@LoveShan].

My first post was a passionate announcement.

[Grateful for the most important woman in my life—Shannah. She gave birth to my first son. My life is complete now.]

The press conference stretched over three days. Journalists flooded in from every corner of New Jersey, cameras flashing non-stop. Under the glare of the cameras, I held Shannah’s hand like she was my world, smiling from ear to ear.

But even then—behind all the noise, behind the flashbulbs and congratulations—I found myself checking my phone.

Over and over.

Waiting.

Waiting for some kind of update from the villa.

But my phone stayed completely silent.

By the last night, I caved and made the call myself.

“It’s been three days,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “Has she acted out again? Tried to get to me? Threatened to show up here?”

There was a pause on the other end. Then the housekeeper spoke carefully. “No, sir. Ma’am Zareena hasn’t said a word in the past three days. Sh-She hasn’t even touched the food I’ve been leaving outside her door.”

Hearing that, I let out a low scoff. A faint, mocking smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. “Tch. Just sulking. Of course she is.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, pacing a few steps as the irritation rose again.

“I made it clear from the beginning,” I muttered, more to myself than the housekeeper. “Whoever gives birth to my first child, that child becomes my heir. She couldn’t do it. Instead, she kept pulling games. Pretending to be the victim. Trying to manipulate me!”

My voice tightened as I went on, old resentment flaring. “Then she had the nerve to team up with my own mother to steal the baby from Shannah. And I still didn’t punish her. I let it go. Heck, I’ve already been more than fair!”

I heaved a sigh. “And now she thinks she can guilt-trip me by starving herself?”

For a moment, I fell silent. Unbidden, the image of her father crashing to the ground replayed in my mind.

Another sigh slipped from my lips—slower this time, heavier.

“Is she mad about her dad dying? Tell her it was an accident. I didn’t expect it to end that way.”

I paused, running a hand through my hair before continuing.

“If she listens… if she eats… I’ll make sure her father gets a proper funeral.”

I hesitated, the next part catching slightly in my throat.

“I’ll even let her be named as the mother of Shannah’s baby. That way, she still gets to live her little fantasy of being the mother of my heir.”

“But only if she stops messing with Shannah,” I added quickly. “Shannah’s moving to the villa soon. From now on, they’ll be treated the same. No more drama.”

The housekeeper quickly agreed, then rushed off toward the basement.

Sullivan’s POV

The moment I heard the basement lock click and the door creak open, the housekeeper’s scream rang out.

“Sir! Sir! Ma’am Zareena—She… she’s dead! And there’s a dead baby next to her!”