"Daddy, The Baby Went Flat!" When The Billionaire Ripped Off His Wife's Pregnant Belly at The Gala, He Discovered The Terrifying Monster Sleeping in His Bed

"Night vision," Marcus hissed, his tactical goggles snapping down over his eyes with a high-pitched electronic whine. He leveled his suppressed assault rifle toward the vault door. "Stay behind me, Mr. Vance."

Harrison pulled his Sig Sauer, cocking the slide. In the pitch blackness, his other senses sharpened to an agonizing peak.

The scent hit him first.

It cut through the smell of gunpowder, through the scent of cold stone and winter rot.

*Lily of the valley.* Evelyn’s custom-blended French perfume.

"Daddy?" a tiny voice whimpered in the dark.

Maya had awakened. She sat up on the sofa, her hands grasping blindly at the darkness. "Daddy, it smells like Mommy’s closet."

"Stay down, Maya!" Harrison commanded, keeping his body between the sofa and the open vault door. "Close your eyes and cover your ears!"

*Click.*

The heavy industrial floodlights on the far side of the cellar suddenly snapped on with blinding, retina-searing intensity.

Harrison raised his forearm to shield his eyes, blinking through tears of pain.

Standing in the center of the subterranean corridor, framed by the blinding white light, was a woman.

She wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over black combat fatigues. Her golden hair was pinned back, accentuating the flawless, aristocratic bone structure that had once graced the covers of *Vogue* and *Forbes*. Her emerald eyes were bright, radiant, and entirely devoid of human empathy.

She held no weapon. Her hands were casually resting in the pockets of her coat.

"You look tired, darling," Evelyn Vance said, her voice smooth as melted silk.

"Step back, Marcus," Harrison said, his voice deadly low.

Marcus kept his rifle aimed directly at her chest. "One twitch of your fingers, Mrs. Vance, and I put three hollow-points through your sternum."

Evelyn chuckled—a low, musical sound that made Harrison’s skin crawl. "Oh, Marcus. Faithful, stupid Marcus. You always were such a blunt instrument. Do you really think I walked into this cellar alone?"

A sharp red laser dot appeared on Marcus’s forehead.

Another appeared on Harrison’s chest.

From the shadows behind Evelyn, four heavily armed figures materialized, their suppressed submachine guns trained with surgical precision on Harrison and his head of security.

Evelyn took three slow, deliberate steps forward, the heels of her leather boots clicking against the flagstones. She looked down at Maya, who was trembling beneath the blanket, clutching Harrison’s jacket.

"Look at her," Evelyn whispered, a predatory smile touching her red lips. "She’s grown three inches since I left. The cellular stabilization was a complete success. Vivienne was a monster, but she was a genius."

"You murdered your own sister," Harrison snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger of his pistol, unbothered by the laser dot centered on his heart.

"Vivienne was weak," Evelyn replied with an airy dismissive wave. "She wanted to confess. She wanted to take the research public, to cure childhood leukemia. Can you imagine such pedestrian waste? With Maya’s genetic blueprint, we can sell immortality to the highest bidder in Beijing, Riyadh, and London. Forty billion dollars, Harrison. That’s what our daughter is worth on the private market."

"She’s not a commodity!" Harrison roared. "She’s a child! She cried for you, Evelyn! She cried at your empty grave!"

Evelyn tilted her head, her smile vanishing, replaced by a terrifying, hollow vacuum.