Chapter 4 - A Family’s Broken TrustAt six o'clock the following morning, Maria opened her eyes in the ICU.

The surgery had been a success. The internal bleeding was stopped, the non-viable fetus removed, and her vital signs were finally stabilizing.

Clara sat beside her bed, holding her frail, IV-tubed hand.

“Clara...” Maria whispered, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I’m so sorry... I thought I was giving you the boy you always dreamed of... I didn't know Brandon was lying...”

“I know, Mom,” Clara squeezed her hand gently, kissing her forehead. “You were a victim too. Brandon manipulated your love for me to commit a federal crime.”

The ICU doors swung open, and Brandon walked inside, wearing a dark suit, holding a leather briefcase. His expression was polished, arrogant, and entirely devoid of remorse.

“Clara,” Brandon said smoothly, looking at Maria in the bed. “I see your mother survived. Good. Now where are the medical records from the procedure?”

Clara stood up slowly, stepping between Brandon and her mother.

“Get out of this room, Brandon,” Clara commanded, her voice dropping into an icy register.

Brandon chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Don't be dramatic, Clara. The surrogate agreement Maria signed in Mexico transfers all parental rights of the embryo to me. Since the fetus didn't survive due to her age and physical negligence, my legal team is filing a multi-million-dollar breach of contract suit against her estate.”

Maria gasped from the bed, her heart monitor spiking.

“Physical negligence?!” Clara shouted, her hands shaking. “You forced a sixty-six-year-old woman to carry an abdominal pregnancy with a stolen embryo!”

“I didn't force anyone,” Brandon smirked, tapping his briefcase. “She signed the papers voluntarily. And as for the embryo... St. Jude’s Clinic signed off on the transfer under my sole authority.”

“They signed off because you forged my signature on the consent forms, Brandon,” Clara countered.

Brandon’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered his composure. “Good luck proving that in court, Clara. You don't have the money to fight my family’s legal team.”

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The door opened behind him, and Victoria Vance stepped into the ICU room, accompanied by two uniformed police officers.

“She doesn't need to fight you alone, Mr. Sterling,” Victoria announced, holding up an official court document. “Because the United States Attorney’s Office just signed a federal search warrant for your home and office.”