A scream tore from my throat, so raw and guttural it barely sounded human.
I threw myself forward, crawling on hands and knees, fingers scrabbling desperately across the floor. The concrete shredded my skin, blood smeared beneath me—but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel it.
I just needed to reach him.
But before I could even brush his fingers, a pair of strong arms yanked me backward. Hard.
“No!” I shrieked. “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Take her away,” Sullivan said lazily, not looking at me. “She’s as good as dead. If she dies now, maybe it’s better for her.”
“Y-You—” I choked, trembling, my voice cracking under the weight of rage and heartbreak. “You bastard—Sullivan!!”
I broke down completely, crying and shouting like a madwoman. “You killed your own child! And now—now you’ve murdered the man who saved your worthless life! You think you’ll walk away from this? You’re going to rot in hell!”
He finally looked at me then. Just a glance. Slightly furrowed brows, as if my pain was little more than an inconvenience. Then—he sighed.
“Lock her up,” he said, almost wearily. “Like I told you.”
As if I were a toy he’d already broken, now being sent off for safekeeping, he added, “And for the next few days… if she asks for anything, give it to her. Take good care of her.”
Sullivan’s POV
I spared no expense preparing for the press conference. Of course, it was not just a conference; it’s the time the world would know who my heir was. Money meant nothing if it meant solidifying Shannah’s place—and mine. The world needed to know who she was to me.
To start, I booked out every single gold store in the city and had them craft a peace lock made of solid gold—so big it was taller than a grown man.
Then, I dropped tens of millions to buy an entire island, naming it after Shannah.
I even broke my own rule and created a social media account—something he’d never done before—under the handle [@LoveShan].
My first post was a passionate announcement.
[Grateful for the most important woman in my life—Shannah. She gave birth to my first son. My life is complete now.]
The press conference stretched over three days. Journalists flooded in from every corner of New Jersey, cameras flashing non-stop. Under the glare of the cameras, I held Shannah’s hand like she was my world, smiling from ear to ear.
But even then—behind all the noise, behind the flashbulbs and congratulations—I found myself checking my phone.