Chapter 7 - The True Bloodline
Graham was completely paralyzed. His weapon was aimed at the floor, absolutely useless against the overwhelming firepower surrounding him. His breathing turned jagged and shallow.
The wall of elite enforcers slowly parted.
Stepping into the red-lit hospital room was a tall, distinguished man in his sixties. He possessed an aura of unimaginable, terrifying power. He wore a pristine, custom Italian suit, gripping a silver-handled cane. It was Don Romanov, the undisputed king of the Chicago underworld—a man who made Graham Ashford look like a petty street thief.
Don Romanov walked past the trembling Graham without even glancing at him. He approached the hospital bed, his terrifying demeanor instantly softening into profound, deep affection.
"Are you alright, my daughter?" the Don asked gently, placing his hand over Claire’s.
Graham dropped his pistol. It clattered loudly against the hospital floor. His knees physically buckled, barely keeping him upright.
"Daughter?" Graham choked out, his voice cracking with absolute terror. "Claire... you're an orphan. You grew up in the foster system."
Claire sat up slowly, adjusting her white and blue hospital gown with the grace of a true underworld princess. She looked at Graham with absolute, freezing contempt.
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"I was placed in the foster system to protect me from a blood feud when I was a baby," Claire stated coldly. "I lived a quiet, normal life because I wanted to. I married you because I thought you were a good man beneath your business. But the moment you betrayed me for that cartel heiress, I made a single phone call to my biological father."
👉 Graham realized he had walked directly into an elaborate, inescapable snare, and his desperate begging was about to begin.
