Chapter 6
Victor’s face turned from crimson to a deep, suffocating purple as Daniel slowly constricted his airflow. His hands clawed weakly at Daniel’s iron forearms, his leather shoes scraping against the floorboards.
"Daniel, stop!" Evelyn screamed, throwing herself toward her son, but a bodyguard stepped into her path, his broad chest knocking her back onto the sofa. "He is your cousin! Your father’s nephew! You cannot execute family over a domestic dispute!"
"This stopped being a domestic dispute," Daniel said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "the second you put hands on my wife."
With a sudden flick of his wrist, Daniel released the tie and drove his right palm upward into Victor’s solar plexus. The concussive strike knocked the remaining breath from Victor’s lungs. The forty-one-year-old collapsed to his knees, gasping like a fish hauled onto dry land, retching onto the Persian rug.
From the chaise lounge, a soft, trembling voice cut through the violence.
"Daniel..."
Daniel froze. The lethal stillness that held his posture melted away in an instant. He turned his back on Victor, walking swiftly to Clara’s side.
Clara was awake. Her hazel eyes were clear now, though glazed with the heavy pain medication Dr. Bennett had administered. Her fair, rosy cheeks were still pale, but the shivering had subsided. She reached out, her fingers brushing the dark wool of Daniel’s vest.
"Where is my baby?" she whispered, tears pooling in her lashes. "Please... Daniel, tell me they didn't take him."
"Noah is sleeping in our bedroom, Clara," Daniel said, dropping to one knee beside her and taking her cold hand in both of his. His rough thumbs gently stroked her bruised knuckles. "Marissa is with him. He is safe. Nobody will ever touch him again."
Clara let out a long, shuddering sob of relief, pressing her forehead against his wrist. "She... she had papers, Daniel. In the desk. She wanted me to sign away my rights. She said if I didn't, Victor would take Noah to an orphanage in Canada and tell you the baby died in the night."
Daniel closed his eyes for two full seconds. When he opened them, the grey in his irises was like hardened steel.
"Where are the papers, Clara?" he asked softly.
Clara pointed a trembling finger toward the antique rosewood desk in the corner of the nursery lounge. "The top drawer. The blue leather folio."
Daniel stood up and walked to the desk. He pulled the drawer open and retrieved the folio. Inside lay three notarized documents: a voluntary termination of maternal rights, an expedited legal adoption form naming Evelyn and Victor Carter as primary guardians, and a medical power of attorney declaring Clara mentally incompetent due to postpartum psychosis.
Attached to the back was an official death certificate—blank, except for Noah Carter’s name and a pre-stamped signature from a corrupt county coroner.
Daniel held the paper in his hand. The paper trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the volcanic, apocalyptic rage vibrating through his veins.
He turned to face Evelyn.
"You drafted a death certificate for my six-day-old son," Daniel said, every word dropping like lead.
May you like
Evelyn swallowed hard, shrinking back against the cushions, her eyes wide with mounting, animal dread. "Daniel... it was just leverage. A backup plan in case she refused to cooperate. We wouldn't have actually used it—"
"You would have," Daniel interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper that made the bodyguards near the door shift uncomfortably. "And that is why you will never see the sun rise over this estate again."
