Chapter 4 - UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE
KING
The ride to the private wing of Vance Memorial Hospital was a blur of flashing lights and quiet, efficient care.
Clara lay in the back of the spacious medical transport vehicle, her father holding her hand tightly. For three years,
she had tried to survive on her own, trying to prove she didn't need the Vance empire to find happiness. Now,
holding her father's hand, she realized how foolish she had been to let people who were beneath her drag her into
the dirt.
Within minutes of arriving, Clara was surrounded by the city's top obstetricians and specialists. The private
wing had been entirely cleared for her.
As Clara was wheeled into the delivery room, Arthur Vance stood in the hallway. He pulled out a sleek black
satellite phone. He dialed a single number.
“Sir?” a quiet voice answered on the other end. It was Thomas, Arthur’s chief of operations and a man who
could dismantle multinational corporations with a few keystrokes.
“Thomas,” Arthur said, his voice flat and empty of emotion. “The Sterlings. I want them ruined. Not
tomorrow. Not next week. Now.”
“Which sectors, sir?”
“All of them,” Arthur replied. “Begin with their lines of credit. Foreclose on the Sterling Plaza. Revoke their
corporate licenses for the shipping ports. And Thomas... make sure the media knows exactly why.”
“Consider it done, Mr. Vance.”
Back in the delivery room, Clara pushed through the pain. She was no longer the timid girl who smiled
through the insults of her mother-in-law. She felt a fierce, protective fire burning inside her. She was a Vance. And
she was about to bring a new Vance into the world.
After two hours of intense labor, the quiet room was filled with the sharp, healthy cry of a newborn baby girl.
The head doctor smiled, wrapping the baby in a soft pink blanket and handing her to Clara.
Clara looked down at her daughter’s beautiful, perfect face. Tears of joy slipped down her cheeks. “Welcome
to the world, Lily,” she whispered.
The door opened gently, and Arthur walked in. His cold, ruthless demeanor instantly melted as he looked at
his granddaughter. He sat on the edge of the bed, a rare, genuine smile softening his rugged features.
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“She looks just like your mother,” Arthur whispered, kissing Clara’s forehead.
Suddenly, a commotion could be heard outside the heavy double doors of the private wing. Daniel’s voice was
pleading, loud and desperate. “Please! Let me in! That’s my wife! That’s my baby!”
May you like
Arthur’s smile vanished. He stood up, smoothing his suit jacket. “Rest, Clara. I will handle the trash.”
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