When the kidnappers demanded ten billion dollars, Adrian Vance strapped explosives to his chest and charged into that basement like a man with nothing left to lose.
All to save me.
The image of him carrying my naked, trembling body out of that hellhole went viral within the hour. The internet devoured it.
Rumors tore through the capital like wildfire: *Miss Henson was defiled by eighteen criminals. She's ruined. She's diseased.*
I was drowning—in grief, in shame, in the wreckage of my reputation—when Adrian Vance stepped forward.
He staged a proposal so grand, so public, that the entire city watched him drop to one knee and declare his absolute belief in my innocence.
"Hailey, you are the purest woman I know. Marry me. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life."
I wept. I believed every word.
Ten years of secret, unrequited love—finally, *finally* reaching a perfect ending.
That illusion shattered the day I gave birth to twins.
He took our daughter.
No warning. No explanation. Just... gone.
Panic clawed at my chest as I rushed home, still bleeding, still weak. I found the study door cracked open, and through it, voices.
My father-in-law's roar: "You ungrateful son! Just because I opposed you marrying that woman, you went to such lengths? You *orchestrated* Hailey's kidnapping to force her to bear your children?"
The crack of a leather whip split the air.
"And now you've lost your mind! Handing the Vance family's granddaughter to our enemy to raise? I'll beat the life out of you!"
Through the gap, I saw Adrian curled on the floor, shielding the baby girl in his arms, his jaw set like granite.
"This is Sara's child. Mine and Sara's." His voice was raw but steady. "She followed me for years without a title, without status. I've already treated her unfairly. I will *not* let our daughter grow up without her mother."
"Dad, I married a society heiress into the Vance family. I gave you what you wanted. Don't ask me about Sara again."
Ice flooded my veins.
My heart stopped beating.
Everything clicked into place—the cold, distant Adrian Vance who suddenly changed his temperament. Who suddenly wanted *me*.
It was never love.
It was a setup.
My teeth clenched until my jaw ached. I turned and walked away.
Today, I was going to teach them the true meaning of agony.
——
I rushed back to the hospital, hands shaking, and scooped my newborn son from his crib. Then I ran.
My eyes burned as I looked down at the pink, fragile infant in my arms. Several times, my hand hovered near his tiny throat, fingers twitching.
In the end, I unclenched my fist.
I needed the truth. All of it.
I needed to see exactly how black Adrian Vance's heart really was.
The car screeched to a halt outside Ava Finch's villa. When I burst through the door—disheveled, wild-eyed, clutching a baby—she nearly dropped her coffee.
After I choked out the explanation, her eyes went wide.
Then dark.
Then furious.
"That *bastard*. How could Adrian do this to you?"
I forced myself to breathe. My voice came out cold. Clinical.
"Hide the child. Once the paternity test results come in, I will make him pay for every ounce of pain he's caused me."
By the time I cleaned myself up and returned to the hospital room, Adrian was already waiting.
His eyes locked onto my empty arms. He rushed forward.
"Hailey, the doctor said you took Bubu. Where is he? Where's our son?"
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed and smiled. It didn't reach my eyes.
"Adrian, before you ask about our son... shouldn't you tell me where you took our daughter?"
He froze. His gaze darted sideways.
"Dad wanted to see Xixi. I had the driver take her to the estate."
"Is that so?" I tilted my head. "Hasn't he seen enough? Tell the driver to bring her back."
I picked up my phone and began dialing.
Panic flashed across his face. He lunged and snatched it from my hand.
"Hailey, I'm talking about our *son*—why are you bringing up Xixi? Do you think my father would harm his own granddaughter?"
I studied his flustered expression. He must have known I'd gone home earlier. He just couldn't be sure how much I'd heard.
A short, cold laugh escaped my lips.
"Your father won't harm his biological granddaughter... so do you think I would harm my biological son?"
I paused.
"Actually... maybe I would. If he isn't really my son. If I get angry enough. Maybe I'd toss him in a dumpster. Or feed him to the strays."
I raised my hand and mimicked a vicious tearing motion.
