Too Late For Regret: The Genius Ex-Wife
Chapter 7
Seraphina sat on the cold floor, her back against the metal bedframe. She looked up at Clara's horrified face and kept pushing the lie.
She forced tears into her eyes, letting them spill down her cheeks in a display of manic grief. "Why should he get to be happy with his first love while I raise his bastard? I wanted him to feel it."
She spat the words out with venom. "I want him to live the rest of his life knowing his own flesh and blood is dead because of him."
Clara covered her mouth with both hands. She backed away slowly, looking at Seraphina as if she were a monster.
A deafening crash shattered the room. The heavy wooden door flew open, slamming against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
Alistair stood in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot. The veins in his neck bulged against his collar. He radiated a terrifying, murderous energy.
He crossed the room in two massive strides. He shoved Clara out of the way. She hit the edge of the bed and fell.
Alistair bent down. His large hand clamped around Seraphina's throat. He stood up, dragging her off the floor by her neck.
Seraphina's feet dangled in the air. Her hands instinctively flew up, clawing at his iron grip. Her lungs burned as the airway crushed shut.
"Is it true?" Alistair's voice was a demonic growl. He shook her. "Did you kill it?"
Seraphina looked down into his furious eyes. Her vision swam with black spots. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a twisted, victorious smile. She gave a single, jerky nod.
She managed to force a whisper through her crushed windpipe. "You couldn't... protect it. You're... nothing."
The insult hit Alistair's core. His pride, his ego, his fundamental need for control-she had destroyed it all.
He opened his hand. Seraphina dropped like a stone. She hit the mattress and bounced, gasping violently for air. She coughed, her chest heaving, but her eyes gleamed with cold triumph.
Clara scrambled up and stood in front of Seraphina. "Get away from her! You're a murderer!"
Alistair didn't even look at Clara. He stared down at Seraphina. The fury in his eyes morphed into something worse. Pure, unadulterated revulsion.
"You are the most disgusting, vile creature I have ever met," he said. His voice was terrifyingly calm now.
Seraphina's heart gave a painful throb, but she kept her face locked in a mask of defiance.
"Discharge her," Alistair ordered. "Now."
"Sir," the director stammered. "She has severe trauma. Legally, we can't-"
Alistair stopped. He slowly turned his head. His eyes were dead. "My men will handle the paperwork. Get her out of my sight."
He walked away. The sound of his dress shoes faded down the hall.
Julian stepped into the room, followed by two of Alistair's massive private security contractors. Julian dropped an 'Against Medical Advice' release form on the bed along with a pen.
"Sign it," Julian commanded coldly. Seraphina's hand shook, but she scrawled her name, finalizing her own eviction.
The two bodyguards stepped forward. They grabbed Seraphina by the arms and hauled her up.
Clara tried to fight them, but one of the men shoved her back against the wall with brutal force. Seraphina looked back and gave Clara a sharp look, warning her to stay quiet.
A terrified nurse rushed forward and threw a thin cashmere coat over Seraphina's shoulders before retreating.
Alistair's men dragged her down the corridor. The hospital staff averted their eyes, terrified of the billionaire's wrath.
They reached the loading dock at the back of the hospital. The heavy steel doors were pushed open. The guards shoved her forward into the alleyway.
Seraphina stumbled out into the freezing night. The metal doors slammed shut behind her, the deadbolt sliding into place, locking her out in the deadly storm.
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