Agony seared through my body. The blood had long dried, crusted against my skin, reeking of rust and decay.
Lucian gagged behind his hand, his voice trembling with faux distress. "Mr. Jack... you know I can't stand the smell of blood. Yet you refuse to wash—are you trying to make me faint on purpose?"
"Look at yourself!" Helena's lip curled in disgust. "A deranged, stinking mess. Pathetic."
With a wave of her hand, she ordered the bodyguards to douse me with bucket after bucket of icy water until my lips turned blue and my body seized from hypothermia. Only then did she signal them to stop.
But Lucian wasn't finished. Clutching his child, he staged a performance worthy of an award.
"Mr. Jack, I beg you—don't take my son from me! If you insist on stealing him... I'll jump from this window right now!"
He lunged toward the glass. Helena caught him just in time.
Whirling on me, she kicked away my clutching hand and leaned down, her voice a venomous whisper.
"You think scheming with my mother will make you heir? That you can steal what belongs to Lucian and his child? I've locked down the family estate. Your plans are worthless."
"And you—how many times must I warn you? Hurt Lucian or his son again, and I'll take permanent measures."
She straightened, snapping at the guards.
"He drove Lucian to suicide. Punish him accordingly. Go—rip out his father's oxygen tube and throw the old man from the roof."
"HELENA!" My scream tore through the room. "He saved your life! YOU OWE HIM EVERYTHING!"
"Debt paid." Her laugh was glacial. "Your father orchestrated my 'accident' to force a marriage—so his lowborn son could wed a Taylor heiress. Well, you got your title. I bore your 'heirs.' But your brats were too slow—Lucian's son arrived first. I owe you nothing now."
"Do it."
I lunged at the guards—only to be beaten down, my clothes shredded.
Dried wounds split open. Blood erupted like a geyser, painting the floor crimson.
I writhed, howling.
Helena moved to drag me up—then froze.
The violent motion had exposed my lacerated flesh... and the crumpled NICU surgery notice that fell from my tattered clothes.
Her face drained of color.
Suddenly she was on her knees, cradling me, whirling on Lucian and the guards.
"WHAT DID YOU DO? I said bring him here—not mutilate him! And this notice—Lucian, you swore the twins were safe with nurses!"
Lucian paled—but recovered instantly, tears welling on command. "They are safe! Jack must've faked this to frame me... but I anticipated his tricks!"
He shoved his phone at her. The screen showed a one-month-old infant in a grainy, obviously staged video.
The guards chimed in eagerly: "We'd never harm Mr. Jack! He probably wore special effects makeup to trick you, ma'am!"
