Lady Victoria loomed over the bed like a vulture in blue tweed. Her manicured fingers gripped the bedrail, knuckles white.
“Stop making a scene,” Victoria hissed, her voice dripping with absolute venom. “You want him away from me.”
Behind her, Julian—Chloe’s spineless husband in a wrinkled green shirt—finally stepped forward, his face pale with guilt. “Mom, stop,” he pleaded weakly.
Victoria whipped around, the diamond floral brooch on her jacket flashing under the sterile lights. “You don’t understand!” she shrieked. “She’s useless to us now! I have the custody papers. The Sterling heir belongs to *me*.”
Chloe’s heart hammered against her ribs. Trapped under the sheets, she shrank back from the ruthless matriarch, her tears slipping beneath the nasal cannula. “Please,” she choked out, her voice violently trembling. “Let me breathe.”
Victoria sneered, raising a gold fountain pen to force into Chloe’s weak hand. “Sign it. Or you’ll never see him—”
*BANG.*
The heavy oak door smashed against the wall.
A silver-haired man in a razor-sharp black suit strode into the room. The temperature instantly plummeted. He bypassed Julian completely, marching straight to the bed.
“Get away from my daughter. Now.”
He placed a heavy, fiercely protective hand on Chloe’s shoulder. She looked up, letting out a fractured sob of sheer, overwhelming relief.
Victoria froze, the color violently draining from her aristocratic face. The gold pen clattered to the floor. “Richard… Vance?” she whispered, her eyes wide with sudden terror.
The ruthless king of Wall Street. The phantom billionaire who had been aggressively buying out the Sterling diamond empire for months. Victoria thought Chloe was a penniless nobody they could breed and discard.
She was wrong. Chloe wasn’t the prey. She was the bait.
Richard’s Rolex glinted as he securely grasped his daughter’s hand. He stared down at the trembling matriarch.
“Leave her in peace,” he commanded coldly. “Before I take the rest of your pathetic empire.”