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One Night With The Unstable Billionaire Novel Cover

One Night With The Unstable Billionaire

Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son. But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest. As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh. "Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body. Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief. In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund. To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent. Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash. She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money. The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair. Then, she gasped for air. The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite. Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic. This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.
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Chapter 4

Arla dropped her shoes and grabbed the solid silver letter opener. The freezing metal grounded her, sending a shock of absolute, lethal clarity straight to her brain.

She took a half-step back, raised her right leg, and kicked the heavy oak door with every ounce of strength in her body.

The door exploded inward with a deafening crash, slamming against the wall so hard that plaster dust rained down from the ceiling.

Inside the room, Blair jumped, letting out a shriek. Her hand, holding the needle, froze mid-air.

Blair whipped her head around, her eyes wide with shock, trying to see who was standing in the dark hallway.

She never got the chance.

Arla launched herself into the room like a rabid animal. The air rushed out of her lungs as she closed the distance in a split second.

She grabbed Blair's raised wrist and twisted it violently outward.

Blair screamed in pain. Her fingers went numb, and the heavy sewing needle clattered harmlessly onto the wooden floorboards.

In the dim light, Arla saw Blair's face-the shock, the arrogance, the cruelty. The memory of the basement flooded Arla's vision.

Arla didn't say a single word. She flipped the silver letter opener in her hand, gripping it like a dagger.

She bypassed the lethal arteries of the neck. Instead, she slammed the blade against Blair's right cheek and dragged it down hard.

The sharp silver sliced cleanly through Blair's flawless skin. Thick, dark blood instantly welled up and spilled down her jaw.

It took a full second for the agonizing pain to register in Blair's brain. When it did, she let out a horrific, ear-piercing scream that sounded like a slaughtered pig.

Blair collapsed to the floor, her hands flying to her face. Blood poured through her fingers, dripping onto her silk robe.

Arla kicked the sewing needle hard, sending it flying deep under a heavy wooden dresser where no one would find it.

She spun around and dropped to her knees, grabbing Caden from the corner and pulling him tight against her chest.

She wrapped her arms and legs around his small, shaking body, acting as a human shield. She felt his heart hammering against her ribs, and her eyes instantly filled with hot tears.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. The screams had woken the entire wing. Servants and security guards rushed toward the open door, their flashlights cutting through the dark.

The overhead hallway lights flicked on with a loud click, flooding the bloody storage room with harsh, blinding light.

The second the light hit her, Arla blinked away the cold, murderous rage in her eyes. She replaced it with sheer, unadulterated panic.

She opened her hand. The bloody letter opener hit the floor with a loud metallic clatter. She forced her hands to shake violently.

The butler gasped loudly, his face draining of all color. "Dear God! Miss Blair!" he cried out, stumbling forward. It took him a full, panicked second to regain his composure. He forced himself to stand straight, clapping his hands with a harsh, trembling sound.

Arla buried her face in Caden's hair and let out a terrified sob. "Oh my god! Blair? Is that you?!"

She scrambled backward, pointing a trembling finger at the bloody blade on the floor. "I heard Caden screaming!" she sobbed, her whole body shaking violently. "I ran in and saw a dark figure standing over him with something sharp in their hand! I didn't know who it was in the dark! I just reacted to protect my baby!"

Blair rolled on the floor, choking on her own screams. Hearing Arla's words, she pointed a bloody finger at her. "You crazy bitch! You did this on purpose!"

The security guards froze, unsure of who to grab.

Arla kept her face hidden against Caden's shoulder, her own shoulders heaving as if she were hyperventilating.

But beneath the cover of her son's hair, her lips curved into a dark, vicious smile.

"Get the medical kit! Now! And nobody calls the police until Mr. Sargent is informed! We handle this internally!" the butler shouted.

Blair shrieked at the word 'internally,' but the tearing pain in her cheek cut her words off into a wet gurgle.

Arla slowly lifted her head. Tears streamed down her pale face. She looked at the butler with wide, innocent eyes.

"Let me help stop the bleeding," Arla whispered, her voice trembling perfectly. "I know basic first aid."

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