Born in the Inferno

The metallic, sickening smell of blood grew stronger, suffocating Clara as she lay broken on the freezing concrete of the warehouse. Before she could even process the agonizing loss of her first two babies, a fresh wave of blinding pain tore through her abdomen. Another vicious contraction crashed into her battered body, ripping a desperate gasp from her lips.

She dragged her trembling hands down her slick skin to her stomach. The realization hit her like a physical blow. The pressure remained heavy. The unbearable weight pulled hard at her pelvis.

She had not finished delivering.

Panic and primal instinct seized her. Clara forced her eyes open, her vision swimming with dark spots. She could not afford to delay. Gritting her teeth, she bore down with every ounce of strength she had left. Hot blood gushed from her birth canal, pooling sticky and thick against the cold floor. The tearing sensation flooded her nervous system, pushing her past the breaking point of human endurance. Darkness threatened the edges of her vision. She was on the verge of passing out from the catastrophic blood loss.

If she passed out now, her unborn babies would die of asphyxiation.

She clamped her teeth down hard on her own tongue. The sharp, coppery taste of fresh blood flooded her mouth, shocking her system just enough to keep her tethered to consciousness. She pushed again, a guttural scream vibrating in her throat.

"Waaaahhhh..."

A faint, reedy cry broke the dead silence of the warehouse. Then, another followed.

Tears tracked through the grime and blood smeared across Clara's face. Using a strength she didn't know she possessed, she propped herself up on her trembling elbows and looked down.

Two more babies. A boy and a girl, slick with blood and amniotic fluid, squirming on the ruined floor.

Quadruplets. She had been carrying four babies all along. That explained the immense size of her stomach and her insatiable appetite over the past eight months. God had entrusted her with four lives.

Yet, her first two babies were gone. Stolen. If Sloane had just provided basic medical help, if she had just taken her to a hospital, those first two babies would be safe right now.

A profound, icy clarity washed over Clara. For eight torturous months in this warehouse, she had accepted her imprisonment. She thought she deserved the isolation, believing she had shamed the Ashford family with a scandalous mistake.

But as she stared at her surviving newborns, the horrifying truth clicked into place. This was no punishment for a mistake. This was a meticulously calculated setup. Sloane had orchestrated the scandal, the ruin of Clara's reputation, and this deadly confinement for one single purpose: to steal the title of the Ashford family heiress.

Clara dragged her bruised, bleeding body forward, inching across the concrete until she could scoop the squirming boy and girl into her arms. They were tiny, covered in her blood, but their eyes were bright. She pressed them against her exhausted chest, feeling their rapid little heartbeats against her own.

I will never forgive them. Clara made a silent, blood-bound vow. She would never spare Sloane, nor the family that had turned a blind eye and allowed this horrific tragedy to unfold.

Suddenly, a menacing orange glow flickered across the grim walls. The suffocating darkness of the warehouse shattered.

Clara snapped her head up. The air grew unnaturally hot, thick with the acrid scent of burning gasoline and wood. Roaring flames surged fiercely through the gaps in the heavy metal door, licking at the stacked wooden pallets and discarded furniture near the entrance.

"No! Help!" Clara screamed, her voice hoarse as she struck her bloody hand against the floor. "The warehouse is on fire! Somebody!"

The only answer was the crackle and hiss of the rapidly spreading inferno.

Sloane had not just left her to bleed to death. Sloane had deliberately ignited the warehouse. She wanted Clara burned alive. As long as Clara drew breath, she held the majority shares of the Ashford Corporation. She was the only obstacle standing in Sloane's way. What better way to permanently eliminate that obstacle than a tragic fire? Everyone would just assume Clara, weak from childbirth and massive blood loss, simply couldn't escape the flames.

Toxic, black smoke began to fill the enclosed space. Clara was cornered. The fire roared louder, eating up the oxygen in the room. In her arms, her oblivious infants sucked on their tiny thumbs, blissful and ignorant of the deadly inferno threatening to consume them.

"I won't let any harm come to you. I promise," Clara whispered fiercely, pressing kisses to their soot-stained foreheads. She desperately scanned the room, her eyes darting through the thickening smoke.

Her gaze locked onto a small, narrow ventilation window located two meters up the concrete wall. It was high, and she was bleeding, broken, and weak. But maternal determination surged through her veins, drowning out the pain. She had to get them out.

By the time dawn broke over Bay City, the raging fire had consumed half of the sprawling Ashford mansion, reducing centuries of luxury to smoldering ash and blackened rubble.

In the makeshift command center set up on the lawn, the scent of smoke hung heavy in the air. A soot-covered servant hurried over to Victor Ashford, bowing his head respectfully.

"Master Victor," the servant reported, his voice shaking slightly. "The firefighters have finally contained the blaze. They've inspected the point of origin. Someone started the fire intentionally."

Victor slammed his fist onto the patio table, his face twisting in raw fury. "Intentional? Who would dare set the Ashford estate on fire?! Find the bastard who did this!"

Standing right beside her father, Sloane masked the sudden, sharp spike of panic in her chest. She maintained a look of deep concern, gently placing a hand on Victor's arm. "Father, this isn't the time to hunt down the arsonist. We need to focus on our people. With dozens of staff in the mansion, we must find out if anyone died in the fire."

The servant shook his head immediately. "The fire started in the old warehouse. It was empty at the time. We have zero casualties."

Sloane’s perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms. Her eyes widened before she veiled her shock. No casualties? Clara was inside that warehouse. I locked the heavy padlock myself! The fire was massive. It should have burned her to ashes.

Her mind raced. How could that bitch vanish without a trace? If she escaped, my entire plan is ruined. She will come back for the shares.

Forcing her racing heart to steady, Sloane drew a shaky breath and smoothly shifted her strategy. "Father..." she started, her voice trembling just enough to sound hesitant. "Clara was locked in that warehouse."

Victor shot her a sharp glare. "What are you implying?"

"She went into labor yesterday," Sloane continued, weaving the lie with practiced ease. "She was begging me to send her to the hospital, but I refused, just as you ordered. Do you think... do you think she flew into a resentful, suicidal rage? She could have started the blaze herself to punish us."

Victor’s features contorted with disgust. "That ungrateful wretch! I raised a disgraceful black sheep! She causes a scandal, and now she burns down my estate?!" He turned to his security team. "Search every inch of this city! Drag her back here!"

The damages were catastrophic. Hundreds of millions in property loss, and potentially a billion dollars in liquidated damages. If the Ashford family didn't have deep pockets, this single night would have bankrupted them.

Before the security team could even move, another servant rushed onto the lawn, his face pale and grim.

"Master! Miss Sloane!" the man gasped, catching his breath. "We found a body. In the lake, about a thousand meters away from the manor."

Victor froze. "A body?"

"Yes, sir. It's a woman's corpse. She's badly burned. The staff widely believe it is Miss Clara."

Sloane seized the golden opportunity. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a heart-wrenching sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing crocodile tears to spill over her cheeks.

"Oh God, Clara!" Sloane cried out loudly, her shoulders shaking with feigned heartbreak. "She jumped into the lake... she must have realized she couldn't escape the fire she started! She committed suicide because she couldn't accept her fate! This is so tragic!"

Victor did not look sad. Not even for a second. He just looked impatient and deeply inconvenienced.

"And what about the bastards she birthed?" Victor sneered, callously waving his hand. "Where are they?"

"She left two babies behind last night," Sloane wept, dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief. "The poor orphans..."

"Why are you keeping those two bastards around?!" Victor roared, disgusted by the entire ordeal. "Send them to an orphanage immediately! Throw them out! I will not have them stay in my sight and be an eyesore!"

Sloane smoothed her features. The tears vanished, replaced by a mask of gentle, calculated concern. She stepped closer to her father, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

"Father, wait," Sloane interjected smoothly. "Those two children... they bear an uncanny resemblance to Kaelen Vance."

Victor's angry tirade died in his throat. He stared at his daughter, skeptical. "Kaelen Vance? The master of the Vance family?"

The Vance family was not just wealthy; they were terrifyingly powerful. They were the undisputed rulers of Bay City. The Ashford family could only look up to them from the dirt.

"Think about it," Sloane whispered, a cold, calculated gleam appearing in her eyes. "The man Clara slept with eight months ago might be him. Countless families would kill for a single chance to work with the Vance family, and they never even get close. Yet right now, we have Kaelen Vance’s own flesh and blood in our hands. Why throw them away when we can use them as leverage?"

Victor narrowed his eyes, the gears in his head turning rapidly. The anger faded, replaced by greedy ambition. "What exactly do you mean, Sloane?"

Sloane lifted her chin, her declaration firm and final. "I’d like to take the children to the Vance family."