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Chapter 41: The Aftermath of the Gala

ผู้เขียน: Ruthie B
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2026-06-18 16:45:24

Sloane's POV

The morning after the annual gala, the corporate boardroom of Hartley Global didn't smell of premium champagne or high-society perfume; it smelled of clinical, absolute defeat.

The projection screens were still active, displaying the freezing data points of the asset freeze I had executed against Sterling Logistics and the Vance real estate conglomerate.

The media networks were in an absolute frenzy, their headlines shifting from the standard high-society gossip to the systemic,
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  • Claimed By My Ex’s Father   Chapter 64: The Shadow's Domain

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  • Claimed By My Ex’s Father   Chapter 63: The Final Extortion

    Sloane's POVThe entry into the eighth month brought a suffocating quiet to the corporate offices of Hartley Global. By the thirty-two-week mark, the opposition had been completely stripped of their legal, financial, and social capital. Yet, as the biological clock ticked closer to the birth of our heir, the desperation of our remaining international competitors manifested into a dark, final play.I sat on the velvet lounge chair in the penthouse master suite, my legs raised high, a secure digital slate resting against the heavy, prominent curve of my abdomen. I wore a loose-fitting cream silk gown that accentuated my maternal silhouette, my posture calm and unbothered despite the physical strain of the late-stage pregnancy. My master terminal sat on the low glass table before me, its interface displaying a localized encryption alert that had bypassed our external firewalls.The private elevator doors slid open, and Knox walked into the room, wearing a dark charcoal waistcoat over

  • Claimed By My Ex’s Father   Chapter 62: The Shattered Shield

    Finn’s POVThe industrial roar of the prison iron foundry hit my face like a physical blast of heat, scorching the raw skin of my throat as the heavy reinforced doors of the subterranean wing slammed shut. I sat heavily on a rusted metal crate in the corner of the loading bay, my head buried in my grease-stained hands, my breathing ragged and shallow. The coarse fabric of my neon-orange jumpsuit was damp with sweat, the heavy iron chains around my ankles chafing against my skin until my ankles bled.My hands were covered in rough, open blisters that never had the chance to heal, a permanent testament to the absolute ruin of my existence. For twenty-six years, my hands had held nothing heavier than a crystal glass of premium scotch or the leather steering wheel of an imported sports car. Today, my reality consisted of a rusted iron hook and a twelve-hour shift moving heavy zinc sheets for the state capital infrastructure network."Hey, rich boy! Stop crying into your dirt and look

  • Claimed By My Ex’s Father   Chapter 61: The Third Trimester Lockdown

    Sloane's POVThe seventh month of my pregnancy transformed the penthouse suite from an executive command center into an unbreachable fortress. By the twenty-eight-week mark, the biological metrics of the true Hartley heir had shifted from a corporate strategy into an imposing, heavy physical reality. I stood by the obsidian console, dressed in a custom, structured charcoal wool cape dress that elegantly draped over the prominent, rounded silhouette of my stomach. My posture remained flawlessly rigid, though the added weight required a calculated shift in my pacing.I tapped the glass interface of my master terminal, watching the glowing silver perimeter lines that isolated the entire financial district. Following the public asset executions of the Vance and Van Der Bilt coalitions, the high-society circles had fallen into a terrified, resentful silence. They had learned the hard way that my terminal didn't just track data; it liquidated families. Yet, my tracking software continu

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    Sloane's POVThe entry into the sixth month of my pregnancy brought an absolute lockdown of our domestic and international networks. By the twenty-fourth week, the biological metrics of our true heir were perfectly aligned with our optimal medical baseline, but the psychological desperation of our remaining competitors reached an all-time high. The sharks realized that once the child was born, the legal window to challenge my supreme trustee status would be permanently closed forever.I sat on the white leather sofa in the penthouse living space, dressed in a comfortable, minimalist pastel-pink crepe gown that elegantly highlighted the rounded curve of my stomach. My master terminal was mounted on a glass coffee table in front of me, its monitors displaying the real-time encrypted security feeds of every transit vehicle operating within our central corporate grid.Knox walked into the room, his towering, broad-shouldered frame wrapped in a sharp black silk waistcoat over a dark cha

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    Finn’s POVThe smell of sweat, moldy concrete, and industrial detergent had become my new skin. I sat on the cold floor of the prison recreation yard, my back pressed against the chain-link fence, staring blankly at the dirt. The neon-orange jumpsuit felt heavier today, the coarse fabric chafing a

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    Sloane's POVThe destruction of Finn Hartley was a clinical, absolute spectacle. He sat frozen in his metal chair, his eyes completely vacant, staring down at the twenty-six-year-old paternity document as if his brain had entirely lost the capacity to process language. The desperate, loud arrogan

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    Finn’s POVThe boardroom felt like it was spinning, until I could barely draw a single breath of air into my lungs. My chest was pounding, I panicked as I looked at the projection screen, the image of Cassie’s betrayal burned. My entire universe, every single lie I had told myself to survive the co

  • Claimed By My Ex’s Father   Chapter 33: The First Face-Slap

    Sloane's POVThe silence in the boardroom was instant and heavy. Cassie’s lawyers narrowed their eyes, their pens hovering over their legal pads as they tried to understand the data streams suddenly filling the projection wall behind me. Cassie’s expression stiffened, her fingers tightened around

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