Chapter 7 - The Fatal Mistake
Richard Sterling finally processed the scene unfolding before him. His arrogant mind struggled to comprehend the math. His discarded, orphaned wife was the lost heir to the Crawford empire.
Panic and greed violently collided in his brain. He stepped forward, letting out a nervous, utterly fake laugh.
"This is ridiculous," Richard blurted out, his voice laced with sudden anxiety. "A silly, sentimental coincidence. Come along, Claire."
Then, Richard made the absolute worst mistake of his entire, miserable life.
He reached out and violently grabbed Claire’s arm, yanking her hard upward.
"We are leaving. Right now," he hissed.
Claire let out a sharp cry of pain, stumbling forward, her hands flying to her swollen belly to protect her child.
In that exact fraction of a second, the weeping, vulnerable mother vanished.
Eleanor Crawford rose from the marble floor. The atmospheric temperature in the lobby seemed to plummet by ten degrees. She did not look like a grieving mother anymore; she looked like the most dangerous, lethal apex predator in the city of Chicago.
"Take your hands off my daughter," Eleanor commanded. Her voice was not a shout. It was a cold, quiet blade of pure ice that made the hotel staff physically flinch.
May you like
Richard tried to force a confident smirk, but his eyes betrayed his terror. "Claire is my wife. I have legal rights."
"Not for much longer," Eleanor stated.
