The Cruel Abandonment

Clara drew a sharp, trembling breath through the searing agony tearing at her lower body. She forced her chin down, her heavy eyes scanning the freezing concrete. With shaking hands, she slowly lifted the thick, blood-soaked hem of her dress.

There, lying on the unforgiving floor, were two tiny figures.

They were covered in dark, slick blood, their fragile bodies writhing as they clenched their tiny fists. Faint, high-pitched wails echoed through the damp space. Twins. She had given birth to twins. A sudden, overwhelming surge of maternal joy pierced through the haze of her excruciating pain.

But the joy shattered in an instant. The infants suddenly fell silent. Their wailing ceased. Clara watched in sheer terror as their small, delicate faces began turning a terrifying shade of black and blue right before her eyes.

"No," Clara rasped, choking back her rising panic. "Don't be scared. Mommy is here. Mommy's right here."

She pushed her exhausted, bleeding body forward, dragging her legs across the harsh stone. Blood smeared along the ground beneath her. She extended her trembling hands, desperate to gather her newborns into her arms, to warm their freezing skin.

Before her fingers could brush their tiny forms, a sharp crunch echoed. Sloane’s designer shoe came down hard, crushing the back of Clara's hand directly against the cold floor.

A gasp of pain escaped Clara's cracked lips, but she refused to pull her hand away.

Sloane sneered down at her, a look of malicious amusement twisting her elegant features. "You never cease to amaze me, Clara. I cannot believe you actually managed to give birth to twins in a place like this."

Sloane shifted her gaze, staring coldly at the two unmoving infants. "But unfortunately, your little bastards did not get to live long. It seems they only survived for a few mere seconds."

"Shut up!" Clara cried out, blinding grief tearing through her chest. "My babies aren't dead!"

Her heart ached at the devastating sight before her. She ripped her crushed hand out from under Sloane's heel and reached out once more to hug her babies, to rub their little faces and pat their backs to force air into their lungs. But before she could touch their soft skin, a heartless maid stepped forward. The woman callously scooped the fragile infants up from the blood-stained floor, holding them with evident disgust.

"Miss Sloane," the maid asked, her voice flat. "What am I supposed to do with these dead bodies?"

Sloane did not care whether the two infants lived or died. If they perished, she would get to watch Clara drown in endless grief, which brought her immense satisfaction. And if they survived, Clara would be permanently weighed down by two illegitimate children. She would never rise to power again.

Sloane stepped closer to examine the twins. As her eyes swept over their features, a sudden chill froze her in place.

Despite their skeletal, premature frames caused by Clara's severe malnutrition, their facial lines were sharp and unmistakable. The structure of their brows, the shape of their jawlines—they bore an exact, undeniable resemblance to Kaelen Vance. He was the ruthless, terrifying demon who controlled Bay City with an iron fist.

A shocking, world-altering realization slammed into Sloane's mind. The day after she orchestrated Clara’s downfall, the powerful Vance family had flipped the entire city upside down searching for a mysterious woman. It all made sickening sense now. The woman they had been desperately seeking was Clara. Clara had slept with Kaelen Vance.

Unaware of the frantic panic storming through her sister's mind, Clara dragged herself closer. She reached up with bloody fingers and grabbed the pristine hem of Sloane’s elegant dress.

"Sloane, please!" Clara wept, her voice raw and begging. "We are sisters. Please send them to the hospital. They are not dead yet! They are still alive. A doctor will save them!"

Clara tightened her grip, staining the expensive fabric with her blood. "I will do whatever you want! As long as you save my children, I will surrender everything. I will give you all my corporate shares. I will give up my status as the heiress of the Ashford family. I will not fight you for anything ever again. Just save them!"

The desperate pleas snapped Sloane out of her stunned shock. Her eyes darkened with cold malice. She raised her leg and kicked Clara in the chest, sending her sprawling backward onto the unforgiving stone.

"Your bastards are dead," Sloane declared, her voice dripping with ice. "No hospital can revive the dead." She turned her sharp gaze to the maid. "Bring them out and bury them somewhere out of sight."

"No!" A tidal wave of panic flooded Clara's mind. She scrambled onto her knees, trying to crawl toward the maid who held her children.

Sloane kicked her back down to the floor, her heel pressing into Clara's shoulder to keep her pinned. "Clara, you just gave birth to twins. You should rest. Look at yourself, blood is still gushing from your private region. Father will not waste a dime sending you to a hospital if you bleed out. Do take care of yourself."

Turning on her heel, Sloane walked out of the room, motioning for the maid to follow.

The heavy metal door slammed shut with a definitive clang, leaving Clara trapped in her bloody nightmare.

"No! Sloane! Sloane Ashford, do not do this!" Clara screamed, dragging her broken body to the entrance. She gripped the cold metal bars of the door, pulling herself up. "Give me back my babies!"

Raw hatred and blinding grief filled her bloodshot eyes. She stared through the bars into the darkness outside. If her children died tonight, she vowed to the heavens that Sloane would be marked as their murderer. She would tear her sister apart.

Outside the warehouse, the sheer ferocity of that scream made Sloane shiver. Animals who lost their cubs always sought revenge. If Clara survived this ordeal, she would become a terrifying enemy. Clara still held half the shares of the Ashford Corporation. Worse, if Clara ever crossed paths with Kaelen Vance, everything Sloane had built would be destroyed.

Sloane turned to the security guard standing nearby. "Mr. Hawkins," she commanded coldly. "We will have an important guest visiting the main house in a few days. Go serve the guests. There is no reason to waste your time standing guard here anymore."

She wanted Clara isolated. Her plan was meticulous and cruel. Clara was weak from childbirth, her mind shattered by the loss of her babies. She was still bleeding heavily onto the concrete. Without medical help, there was only one outcome for someone losing that much blood. Death. Clara simply could not be allowed to live, especially not now that Sloane knew the identity of the man she had slept with.

Sloane picked up the heavy padlock and locked the warehouse door herself, fully believing she was sealing her sister's tragic fate.

Just as she turned to walk away, the maid hurried back in a panic. "Miss Sloane!" she whispered urgently. "The two bastards... they are not dead yet! They are crying again! Should we still bury them?"

Sloane stiffened, her mind racing at breakneck speed. These squirming, dying infants were not just bastards. They were the only flesh-and-blood heirs of the terrifying Vance family. If they survived and the truth was revealed, Clara would instantly become the most important and untouchable woman in Bay City.

Taking the two small, struggling babies into her own arms, Sloane stared down at them. A deadly, calculated resolve darkened her eyes. She could use these children. They were the ultimate leverage.

"Listen to me," Sloane commanded the maid, her tone lethal. "You will not breathe a word about what happened tonight to anyone. Keep your mouth shut."

The maid nodded, her face pale with fear.

Meanwhile, inside the impenetrable, locked warehouse, the metallic, sickening smell of blood only grew stronger.