I Hid His Sterility for 8 Years. He Gave Me a Fake Daughter.

Chapter 3

The next morning at the Vance estate, I placed a thick stack of documents on the mahogany coffee table.

"This is an asset retrieval letter from the Pinnacle Heritage Trust," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion as I looked at Ezra sitting across from me. "My private art gallery was gifted to me in full by your grandfather before I married, and it falls under irrevocable trust protection. I am now taking back control of the operations, so I need you to move all your personal belongings out of the gallery's top floor immediately."

Ezra's hands abruptly stopped flipping through the pages. He had always assumed the gallery was a subsidiary of Vance Enterprises, and he had even promised to give it to Camilla for her debut exhibition. Only now did he realize he had absolutely no authority over it.

"Rosalind, do you really have to be this ruthless?" he demanded, shooting up from his seat with an ashen face. "Are you really invoking my grandfather's trust just to force me into kicking Camilla out?"

Ignoring his furious outburst, I turned and headed toward the second floor to retrieve the gallery's official seal. Seeing Ezra relentlessly pestering me, a vicious glint flashed in Camilla's eyes.

As we reached the corner of the second-floor hallway, the moment Ezra stepped into my study, Camilla suddenly let go of Daisy's hand. Right in front of me, she shoved the child hard in the back.

The 3-year-old tumbled down the steep wooden stairs like a ragdoll. With a sickening series of thuds, Daisy rolled all the way to the bottom, her head slamming heavily against the bronze newel post. Blood began pouring from the wound immediately.

"Oh my god, Daisy!" Mrs. Vance let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Pointing at me standing near the top of the stairs, Sarah shrieked hysterically. "Ezra! Rosalind pushed Daisy down! You can take the exhibition spot and the gallery if you want them, but why did you have to kill Daisy! She's only 3, how could you be so cruel!"

Ezra snapped his head around, his eyes instantly bloodshot. A blinding mixture of shock, rage, and a desperate instinct to protect his illegitimate daughter made him completely lose control. He stormed up to the second floor in a blind rage, he shoved me with all his might. "You venomous b***h, how dare you touch my daughter!"

"I didn't push her, it was..."

Before I could finish, the immense force sent me flying backward. My back crashed violently into the massive antique mahogany grandfather clock at the end of the hall, which weighed several hundred pounds. A bone-chilling c***k echoed clearly through the corridor. The heavy wooden edge and bronze pendulum came down hard on my right hand, the hand I used to paint.

The excruciating agony of my shattered wrist instantly drained all the strength from my body. I collapsed onto the floor, my right hand hanging limply as blood dripped from my fingertips onto the carpet.

Ezra's pupils constricted sharply as he stared at the blood pooling on the floor. At that moment, Camilla's agonizing wails rang out from downstairs. "Ezra, Daisy isn't breathing! Please, save her!"

Ezra immediately tore his gaze away. Clenching his jaw, he glared down at me with cold fury. "Lock her inside to reflect on what she's done!" he ordered the bodyguards behind him. "No one is allowed to let her out without my permission, and no one is to treat that hand!"

The heavy oak door slammed shut in my face. The turning of the lock completely severed me from the outside world.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, I finally felt the full force of the pain in my broken hand. I braced myself against the floor with my left hand and dragged myself toward the intercom, using the wall for support. When I reached it, I pressed the call button.

"Jasper," I panted heavily, struggling to keep my voice steady. "The child is innocent, so don't listen to them. Take Daisy out the back door immediately and use the shortcut to get her to the nearest hospital."

From the other end of the intercom came the old butler's tearful response.