My Husband Left Me 31 Hours After Childbirth For A "Business Trip"—5 Days Later, He Walked In Sunburned While Our Newborn Fought For His Life / Chapter 75 / 100

Chapter 75 - The Poisoned Apple

The mountain shook beneath our feet.

A thunderous explosion rattled the reinforced glass of the penthouse, sending shockwaves through the reinforced concrete walls. Noah woke with a sharp gasp and began to wail, his small hands clutching the lapels of my jacket.

"Shh, baby, mama's here," I whispered frantically, patting his back while my eyes scanned the shaking room. "I've got you. I've got you."

The electronic locks on the suite’s double doors suddenly short-circuited with a spray of blue sparks. The heavy oak doors swung open, and Eleanor rushed in, fully suited in tactical gear, carrying an assault rifle and a spare sidearm.

"Clara! We have to move!" she barked, smoke billowing into the corridor behind her. "Julian’s men brought anti-materiel charges! They breached the lower perimeter gates faster than anticipated!"

I stepped back, staring at her with pure contempt. "You brought them here, Eleanor."

She froze, her eyes flicking down to the glowing monochrome screen beneath the credenza. A flash of irritation crossed her face, quickly swallowed by cold pragmatism.

"I orchestrated the battlefield," she said, her voice rising over the blaring sirens. "I gathered all our enemies into one kill zone! If they die here, Noah is safe forever!"

"You put a target on your grandson’s back!" I screamed back, fury burning away all fear. "You sacrificed his safety so you could play god! You're no mother! You're a butcher!"

Before Eleanor could reply, another deafening blast tore through the corridor outside. The ceiling buckled, dropping chunks of drywall and concrete onto the plush carpeting. Automatic gunfire erupted just down the hallway—the distinct, violent clatter of submachine guns meeting Eleanor’s private security.

"There is no time for moral indignation!" Eleanor yelled, grabbing my arm. "The extraction chopper is on the rooftop helipad! If we don't move now, Julian will breach this floor and take the child!"

I wrenched my arm violently out of her grasp. "I am not getting on that helicopter with you. Noah and I leave alone."

Eleanor raised her weapon, pointing it directly at the floor between our boots. Her expression turned ruthless. "You don't have a choice, Clara. The legacy continues. With your cooperation, or without it."

"Then shoot me," I challenged, holding Noah tighter. "Because that is the only way you're taking him."

A sudden spray of armor-piercing rounds chewed through the mahogany doors from the hallway. Eleanor reacted on pure instinct, diving to the floor as two of her private guards collapsed in the doorway, blood pooling on the threshold.

Through the drifting cordite smoke, a silhouette emerged.

He was limping, holding a smoking shotgun, his clothes torn and covered in soot. Half of his face was a grotesque landscape of raw, red burn tissue and surgical staples, while the other half remained the vain, arrogant profile of the man I had once loved.

Julian.