Reborn Mother: The Billionaire's Ruthless Bride

The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut behind them, muting the tension of the foyer. Hazel slowed her pace. The long hallway was lined with massive oil paintings of past King family members. The dark, brooding colors of the portraits seemed to press inward, making the air feel thick and stale. Serena squeezed Hazel's fingers, her small footsteps faltering. Hazel squeezed back, offering a silent promise of safety. They reached the end of the hall and pushed open the thick oak door to the main study. The room smelled strongly of aged leather and expensive cigar smoke. Sterling was already seated behind a massive mahogany desk, his cane resting against his leg. The door banged open again. Ermina marched in, her heels digging aggressively into the plush carpet. Her face was tight with unresolved anger. Hazel ignored her. She guided Serena to a single leather armchair positioned carefully between the desk and the door. She sat down, pulling Serena safely against her side, putting her own body between her daughter and Ermina. Sloane strolled in a moment later, her bourbon glass still in hand. She leaned casually against a towering bookshelf, a smirk playing on her lips. "You know, Ermina," Sloane mused, taking a slow sip, "if you keep glaring at the girl like that, the board might start thinking you're the one leaking the surrogacy rumors to the tabloids just to spite your own son." "We aren't finished," Ermina said, marching right up to the desk. She slammed another folder down. "She needs to sign a non-disclosure agreement. A strict one. She cannot speak to the press about the surrogacy or the pregnancy." Hazel didn't reach for the folder. She kept her hands resting loosely on Serena's shoulders. "An overly aggressive NDA will only prove to the media that the King family has something ugly to hide," Hazel stated plainly. "When it leaks-and it will leak-it will look like a gag order." Sloane took a slow sip of her drink. "She has a point, Ermina. Your public relations tactics belong in the nineteen-eighties." Ermina spun around, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You contribute nothing to this family but credit card bills, Sloane. Do not lecture me on protecting our reputation." The two women began to argue, their voices bouncing harshly off the wood-paneled walls. Hazel lowered her head. She gently smoothed out the wrinkles in Serena's cotton dress, completely tuning out the shouting match. Her pulse was steady. A loud, violent thud silenced the room. Sterling had slammed his cane onto the hardwood floor. "Enough," Sterling barked. He turned his sharp gaze to Hazel. "There are fifty paparazzi swarming the gates right now. How do you suggest we handle them?" Hazel looked up. Her eyes were bright and entirely devoid of hesitation. "We don't hide," Hazel said. "We give them a love story." She leaned forward slightly. "The public hates a calculating billionaire, but they love a tragic romance. We spin this as a desperate, passionate mistake. I am the naive woman who fell too hard; Karson is the man stepping up to take responsibility. We feed the social media algorithms a narrative of redemption. It will drive the stock price up by the end of the week." Sterling stared at her. His eyes widened a fraction. He had expected tears or demands for money, not a calculated, high-level Wall Street media manipulation strategy from a woman who grew up in Queens. "This is too risky," Ermina interrupted, her voice shrill. "If she messes up in front of the cameras, Karson will be the laughingstock of New York." Hazel turned her head slowly, fixing Ermina with a dead stare. "And letting Karson look like a coward who abandons his child is the safer option?" The question hung in the air, heavy and lethal. Sterling nodded once, a decisive, sharp movement. "The conservative approach is out. We go with her plan." Sloane raised her glass toward Hazel in a silent, mocking toast. She loved watching Ermina lose. Ermina's hands balled into tight fists. Her nails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin turned white, but she didn't dare speak against Sterling's final word. The antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed loudly. It was time to leave for City Hall. Karson was still missing. Sterling checked his gold pocket watch, his brow furrowing in irritation. "Call Arthur. Find out where my son is." Hazel picked up a glass of lukewarm water from the side table and held it to Serena's lips. Her hands were perfectly steady, but her stomach tied itself into a tight, painful knot. Karson. The memory of his cold, indifferent eyes from her past life slithered up her spine like a snake. He had treated her like a disease, a stain on his perfect life. Serena took a small sip of water. She pulled back, her big eyes looking up at Hazel. "Are we going to see my new daddy now?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Hazel cupped her daughter's cheek. "Yes, baby." Her voice was soft, but her eyes hardened into steel. She would never let that man hurt her child again. The sharp screech of tires grinding against the gravel driveway outside cut through the silence. The butler opened the study door and bowed slightly. "Mr. Karson's car has arrived at the front gates, sir." The air in the room instantly grew colder. Hazel took a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity. She stood up, lifting Serena into her arms. She followed Sterling out of the study, walking down the long corridor toward the massive front doors, stepping out into the crisp afternoon air to face the man she feared most.