---- Chapter 8 Cydney Velazquez POV: Iran. After the fire, after Barron had looked at me with that flicker of suspicion in his eyes, | knew my time was running out. He was a sentimental fool when it came to Emerson. He enjoyed her torment, yes, but he would never let her go. | had served my purpose. The debt was almost paid, the baby was almost due. Soon, he would have his heir, and | would be disposable. So | packed a bag, drained a secondary bank account Barron didn't know | had, and disappeared. | went to a small, remote town in the mountains, a place where no one knew my name. | rented a cabin and prepared to wait. | would have this baby, and then | would use it as my ultimate bargaining chip. Barron would give me anything to have his son. But the fall... it had done more damage than |' d let on. | started having complications. The doctors in the small town clinic were useless. They told me | was at risk of permanent damage, that | might never be able to have another child. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my confidence. My entire future was pinned on my fertility, on my ability to produce heirs for powerful men. If | lost that, | lost everything. ---- In a panic, | called Barron. | sobbed, | screamed, | told him Emerson' s curse had followed me, that | was losing the baby. | blamed her for everything. He was there in hours, his private helicopter landing in a nearby field. He was frantic, his face pale with worry. He bundled me up and flew me to the best specialists in the country. He sat by my bedside, holding my hand, while the doctor delivered the grim news. The baby was fine, for now. But my uterus had been severely damaged. This would be my only child. The news hit me like a physical blow. | burst into tears, not of grief, but of rage. My one chance. My only ticket to the life | deserved. "It's her fault!" | shrieked at Barron, my voice raw with fury. "This is all Emerson' s fault! She did this to me! You have to make her pay!" Barron' s face was a mask of cold fury. "I will," he promised, his voice dangerously quiet. "| will handle it." He left me there, in the care of a team of nurses, and | knew he was going back to Emerson. A part of me was terrified he would hurt her too badly, that he would do something irreparable before | had a chance to flaunt my victory, my child, in her barren, scarred face. But another part of me reveled in the thought of her suffering. ---- | waited for days. He called, of course. Robotic, brief updates. "She' s being dealt with." But he didn't come back. The silence from him was unnerving. | started to panic. What if he was with her? What if she had somehow manipulated him, turned him against me? The thought was intolerable. | called one of my contacts, a low-life Pl | kept on retainer for situations like this. "| need you to do something for me," | said. "It involves Barron Carroll's wife." My plan was simple. | would stage my own kidnapping. | would make it look like Emerson, in a fit of jealous rage, had hired someone to abduct me and harm the baby. It was the perfect way to sever their bond for good. Barron would see her as a monster, and he would finally, finally be mine alone. The PI was hesitant, but my money was persuasive. We set it up. He and his goons would grab me, rough me up a bit to make it look convincing, and hide me out in an abandoned warehouse. It was almost too easy. They tied me up, and | made the frantic, tearful call to Barron. "They have me!" | sobbed into the phone. "It was Emerson! | heard them say her name! She' s going to kill our baby!" The rage and fear in his voice was everything | had hoped for. He promised he would find me. He promised he would make ---- Emerson pay. | hung up, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. | had won. But then, things went wrong. The Pl' s goons were amateurs. They got greedy. They decided a real kidnapping was more profitable than a fake one. They called Barron back and demanded a ransom. Ten million dollars. And then, one of them found my hidden cell phone. He saw the records of my calls to the PI. He figured it out. "You set this up," he sneered, his face inches from mine. "You were playing us all along." The game was over. | was no longer the puppet master; | was just another victim. Fear, real and suffocating, closed in on me. When Barron finally burst through the warehouse doors, a team of his security men behind him, the scene was chaos. My fake kidnappers were trying to flee. Barron, moving with a lethal grace | had almost forgotten he possessed, took them down one by one. He came to me, cutting my ropes with a knife, his face grim. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained "She tried to kill me," | whimpered, sticking to my story. But his eyes were cold. He wasn't looking at me with concern anymore. He was looking at me with suspicion. He had found ---- the PI' s phone, and he had seen the call logs. He had seen my name. "You lied to me," he said, his voice flat. "No!" | cried. "She set me up! She' s trying to frame me!" He didn't believe me. | could see it in his face. The trust between us, already fragile, was shattered. He picked me up and carried me out of the warehouse, his touch no longer tender, but rough and impersonal. He put me in his car and drove, not to the hospital, but back to the estate. He took me to the west wing. The part that had burned. It was a blackened, hollowed-out shell. He carried me down to the basement, the one where he had tortured Emerson. The air was still thick with the smell of smoke and her pain. He set me down on the cold concrete floor. "What are you doing?" | whispered, my heart pounding with a terror | had never known. He looked down at me, and for the first time, | saw the true monster beneath the handsome, polished facade. His eyes were empty, devoid of any human emotion. "You made me hurt her," he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You lied, you schemed, and you manipulated. And because of you, | broke the most valuable thing | have ever possessed." ---- He turned and walked towards the stairs. "You wanted her to suffer," he said, his voice echoing in the ruined basement. "Fine. You can have her room." He left me there, in the dark, cold, fire-ravaged tomb, and for the first time in my life, | understood what it was to be truly, utterly alone. The debt was paid. And my punishment was just beginning. Title: A Princess? No! I'm the Female General! In "A Princess? No! I'm the Female General!" by CrushReel, Adela Taylor, a noble family's daughter, disguises herself as her brother to secure their Duke title by joining the army. Despite facing obstacles, she achieves remarkable success. However, upon her triumphant return, her brother betrays her, setting off a chain of events that will test her resolve and reveal hidden truths. 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