My Husband Forced Me to Sign Away My Fortune for His Mistress—Then My Father Saw What He Did to His Pregnant Daughter
### PART 2: THE PRICE TO PAY
At the penthouse forty miles away, Alvin Sterling stared at the screen, his eyes bloodshot. The fountain pen in his hand snapped in half from the sheer force of his grip.
"Call the elite security team. Prep the chopper immediately!" he roared at his pale assistant standing nearby. "Fly straight to the mountain retreat. Notify the local sheriff and tell him there is an attempted murder in progress!"
Back at the retreat, Diego finally realized the glaring red light from the bracelet on my wrist wasn’t just a piece of jewelry. It was flashing in a critical alarm sequence. He cursed, roughly twisting the freezing water valve shut.
Grabbing the collar of my soaked wool sweater, he dragged me inside the house like a lifeless object. My consciousness was fading, but I could still feel the bone-chilling cold and the sharp, agonizing cramps in my lower abdomen. Diego tossed me onto the rug in the middle of the living room. He didn’t call 911 or get a warm blanket. Instead, he pulled the stack of documents from my handbag, along with a red ink pad for fingerprinting.
Just then, his phone rang. He put it on speakerphone while busily smearing ink onto my freezing, limp thumb.
A woman’s whiny voice echoed: "Diego, darling? Has your stupid wife signed that property over to me yet? I don’t want to wait anymore. You promised we would have the assets this week."
So that was it. The cruel truth slammed into my fading mind. There were no "routine administrative papers." He wanted to strip away my assets to hand them over to his mistress.
"Taking care of it now, Chloe," Diego smirked, pressing my thumb firmly onto the paper. "She passed out. I just need her fingerprint and tomorrow morning I’ll report that she voluntarily…"
Before he could finish, the sky outside shook violently.
The blinding glare from the spotlights of two pitch-black helicopters swept across the floor-to-ceiling windows. The wind from the rotors whipped the thin layer of snow outside into a frenzy. Terrified, Diego dropped the transfer papers. Less than ten seconds later, the solid wood front door was blown open with a deafening crash. An armed tactical team stormed in, their weapons pointed straight at Diego.
From behind them, my father stepped in. His face was colder and more ruthless than the blizzard outside.
Diego stammered, frantically backing up and starting his act: "Dad… You’re right on time! My wife clumsily slipped out by the pool, I just carried her in and was about to call an ambulance…"
*Smack!*
Without a word, my father swung his diamond-encrusted cane straight into Diego’s face, sending him sprawling to the floor, his nose gushing blood.
"Do you think I’m blind?" My father threw the phone down in front of him, the video feed of him forcing me under the freezing water playing back in razor-sharp clarity. "You dared to touch my daughter, and my grandchild?"
The medical team accompanying my father immediately rushed over to administer first aid, wrap me in thermal blankets, and load me onto a stretcher. As I was bundled up, I managed to open my eyes to look at the man who was once my husband, now trembling and kneeling on the floor.
"It’s okay, sweetheart, Daddy’s here," my father held my hand tightly, his voice choked with emotion before turning instantly lethal as he addressed the security team. "Hand him over to the police. Charge: Attempted murder. And call the lawyers—freeze every single account tied to his company. As for that mistress Chloe, I want them left without a single dime to hire a defense attorney!"
Diego’s desperate screams and pleas faded away as the doors of the medevac helicopter closed. He thought he was a man who could manipulate everything with his cruelty, but he forgot one crucial detail: standing behind me was an empire that he would never, in his entire life, be worthy of challenging.
