I Raised His 99 Children to Save My Son Chapter 10

I Raised His 99 Children to Save My Son Chapter 10

Kian looked into my cold, unyielding eyes and felt something crack deep inside his chest. But he

didn’t dare argue. “Investigate the poisoning. Right now.”

It took less than half a day.

The evidence stacked up fast. The surveillance footage, the money transfers proving Camille bribed

the nursery staff, and the source of the poison-all pointed unmistakably to Camille Hale.

The truth ripped through the crowd like a blade. Camille had orchestrated the entire thing.

She’d risked the lives of nearly a hundred children just to destroy me, just to claim the title of Mrs.

Steele and secure the inheritance for her own unborn brat.

Kian stared at the mountain of evidence, then motioned for his men to drag Camille front and

center.

“Camille Hale. You poisoned innocent children and framed Helena. I will bury you.”

“No-Kian, please, let me explain—”

Camille’s pleas died in her throat as the mob of mistresses surged forward, fists flying.

“You lying bitch! You used us!”

“Where’s the money you promised?! Now Mr. Steele won’t pay a dime for our kids!”

“That’s all your fault!”

Camille, barely weeks from her due date, crumpled under the blows. By the time security pulled the

women off her, she was hemorrhaging. They rushed her into surgery, but the baby didn’t make it.

And Camille? The damage was catastrophic. She’d never conceive again.

She came at me later, wild-eyed and wielding a blade. “Helena! Your son is dead, so you had to take

mine too, you worthless whore!”

I met her gaze without flinching. “Your son died because of you.”

She didn’t touch me. Security subdued her before she could draw blood. Last I heard, she was

convicted of assault and carted off to rot in a cell.

When the dust finally settled, Kian approached me. Slowly. Carefully. Like I was a wounded animal

that might bolt at any sudden movement. He carried a small, polished mahogany urn in his hands

“Helena. I know I was wrong. I know I can’t fix it. But please don’t go.”

“I’ll give you half of everything. The mansion. The accounts. Whatever you want. Just stay”

He’d already drawn up the divorce papers. In the section for asset division, he’d written in his own hand: [Fifty percent of the Steele estate to Helena Blake.)

I took the pen. I didn’t read a single word. I signed where he’d marked.

Then I reached out and took the urn from his trembling hands, pulling it tight against my chest.

I turned around and walked away. I didn’t look back.

The money Kian gave me? I wired every last cent of it anonymously to a hematology research institute.

Let it fund treatments for children suffering like Elias. Let it finish what my son couldn’t.

The mistresses, cut off from their monthly allowances, descended on Steele Mansion like locusts.

Lawsuits. Scandals. Chaos. The once mighty Steele name crumbled into ruin.

Kian stayed in that empty mansion alone. He spent his days clutching Elias’s sketchbook, drowning in regret and memory.

Years of excess had taken their toll-he was sterile now.

No more women. No more affairs. Just a hollow, aging madman wandering through the wreckage of

his own making.

Sometimes he drove out to Coastal Cove Village. He’d park at a distance and watch me on the shore, collecting shells in the fading light, sailing out with Arthur in the mornings, living a life so quiet

and steady it barely made a sound. He never dared come closer.

I settled into the village with my son’s urn beside me. I watched the tide roll in and out. I felt the salt wind on my face. I worked with my hands and let the days blur into peace.

Elias. Mama brought you to the sea.

No more pain now. No more hurt. Only quiet. Only forever.