Chapter Three

Fayre

"Clear!"

The crack of the defibrillator echoed through the doors of the ICU. Inside, Sanyi was shouting at three frantic nurses, his hands pumping down on Phoebe’s tiny, unmoving chest.

I pressed my hands against the glass. Move. Please, baby, breathe. Just take one breath.

"Fayre, pull yourself together," Mitchell’s voice waved through the sound of the beeping monitors. He stood a few feet behind me, his hands tucked into his suit pockets. "The doctors are doing what they can. Standing there crying isn't going to change the efficiency of the medical staff."

I turned my head slowly, looking at him through a blur of tears. "Her heart stopped because of you, Mitchell. You took the money for her medicine."

"I reallocated corporate capital to a viable pregnancy," Mitchell said, his chin lifting with that insufferable, unyielding arrogance. "Ria’s child carries the primary bloodline. It was a decision for the hospital's future. You’re a scientist, Fayre. You should understand better."

"She is your daughter!" I screamed, turning away from the glass to face him. "She is your flesh and blood!"

Ria lounged in the nearby waiting room chairs, sipping a fresh bottle of Smartwater Mitchell had brought her. "Fayre, really, the shouting is putting pressure on my lower abdomen. If my baby experiences distress because of your tantrums, Mitchell will have the security team drag you out of this hospital."

"Shut up, Ria," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage. "Just shut your mouth."

Inside the room, the long, flatline tone of the monitor pierced through the walls.

Sanyi stopped. He slowly dropped his head, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the nurse beside him, who quietly noted the time on a clipboard.

No.

No, no, no.

The door slid open. Sanyi stepped out, his white lab coat stained with my daughter's sweat and the saline fluids. He couldn't even look me in the eye.

"Fayre," Sanyi whispered, his voice cracked with emotion. "The enzyme deficiency caused total cardiac collapse. Without the experimental compound from your old research team... we didn't have the molecular stabilizer to bring her back. I'm so sorry. She's gone."

The world tilted.

My baby. My sweet, beautiful Phoebe. She died on her birthday, waiting for a father who was busy massaging his mistress's feet. She died because the man I loved had intentionally starved her medical research project of every single cent just to secure a lavish prenatal team for another woman.

An agonizing sob was built up in my throat, but before it could escape, I looked at Mitchell.

He was frowning, looking at his watch. "A tragic outcome. Truly. But we knew her health was volatile from the start, Fayre. It’s an unfortunate clinical reality."

"An unfortunate reality?" I whispered.

"Yes," Mitchell sighed, running a hand through his hair, completely cold and unaffected. "Now that the child is gone, there's no reason for you to keep acting so unhinged. We can discuss our living arrangements later. I need to take Ria back to the penthouse so she can rest."

Ria stood up, walking over to wrap her arm through Mitchell’s. She looked over at me, her eyes gleaming with absolute triumph. "See? I told you, Fayre. You have absolutely nothing left to tie him to you now. You're completely empty-handed."

Something inside me snapped.

The overwhelming, crushing grief instantly hardened into a wall of freezing, sub-zero ice. The tears stopped. My hands stopped shaking. The foolish woman who had abandoned her brilliant career, her pride, and her sanity to please an egoistic husband died right there on the hospital floor alongside her daughter.

I looked at Mitchell.

"You're right,"  my voice was eerily calm, so smooth it made Mitchell blink in confusion. "There's nothing left tying us together."

"Good. I'm glad you're finally being rational," Mitchell said, his chest puffing out as his ego was fed by my apparent submission. "Pack up your things from the penthouse by tomorrow morning. I’ll have my assistant arrange a small apartment for you somewhere in the outer suburbs. Since you don't have a job or any independent income anymore, I'll provide a basic monthly allowance."

"Don't worry about my things, Mitchell," I replied, staring directly into his soulless eyes. "And don't worry about the research project you shut down. I’ll be taking every single file of my life's work with me tonight."

Mitchell chuckled softly, a patronizing sound. "You can't take anything, Fayre. You signed your rights away when we married. You are a housewife. You have nowhere to go, no capital, and no family left to back you up."

Click. Click. Click.

The synchronized thud of leather combat boots suddenly echoed down the quiet hospital corridor.

Mitchell’s bodyguards instantly reached for their jackets, stepping forward defensively, but they froze.

A dozen towering men dressed in midnight-black tactical suits marched into the private wing. Every single one of them wore a solid gold wristwatch with a distinct, ancient crest engraved on the face, the unmistakable mark of the global Sovereign Trust, an elite financial empire that made Mitchell’s local empire look like petty street thieves.

The elite guards immediately formed a perfect, rigid double line, completely flanking Mitchell and Ria, rendering his security detail entirely useless.

Through the center of the guards stepped an elderly gentleman in a flawless three-piece suit. He carried a silver-headed cane, his presence radiating an authority so massive the air in the hallway grew tense.

Mitchell’s jaw dropped. "Lord Vance? The... the global chairman? What are you doing in a local  facility?"

The elderly man completely ignored Mitchell. He walked straight up to me, stopped, and bowed deeply from the waist.

The lead guard beside him stepped forward, his gold watch catching the harsh hospital light as he bowed toward me as well.

"Lady Fayre," the lead guard announced, his voice booming through the corridor. "The global fleet is mobilized outside. Your grandfather has watched your three-year trial in the ordinary world, and he says it is officially over. The private jet is fueled. It is time to come home and take your rightful throne.”

Mitchell staggered back a step, his face completely draining of color as he stared at me in absolute shock. 

 I looked straight at Sanyi. "Secure my daughter's body. We are transferring her to the Vance ancestral mausoleum."

"Right away, My Lady," Sanyi said, bowing his head.

I finally turned my gaze to Mitchell, who was trembling, his grand ego completely shattered to pieces in a single second.

"I'll see you in court, Mitchell.”