Don’t Beg For My Return

CHPT 3

On the top floor of St. Jude Children’s Hospital, the private medical room was dead silent.

Marcus stood by the wide glass window, his eyes fixed on the small tablet computer in his hand.

On the screen was a live security camera feed from the front gate of the villa.

The digital timestamp read 2:15 AM.

Clara was walking through the front door, laughing softly while Julian Thorne followed close behind her, dragging his expensive leather suitcase into the foyer.

Julian casually draped his jacket over the back of Marcus’s favorite armchair, smiling at Clara as if he were the true master of the house.

Frank Vance stood three steps behind Marcus, his hands held together respectfully as he looked at the floor.

"Sir, Director Bennett brought Julian Thorne into your house tonight," Frank reported quietly. "She did not call the hospital landline even once to ask if young Miss Mia was alive."

Marcus looked at the silent screen for a long moment, his face completely calm and cold as stone.

For five years, Clara had repeatedly told him that Julian was only a fragile junior colleague who needed help.

Yet the moment Marcus walked out with their dying child, Clara welcomed another man to sleep under her roof without a second thought.

Marcus picked up his old personal mobile phone from the bedside table.

The black screen was completely dark.

There was no missed call from Clara. There was no text message asking for an update. There was not a single word of regret or fear for her own child.

Marcus held down the side button, powered the device off, and handed the dark phone to Frank.

"Throw it in the trash," Marcus said softly. "From this second on, Clara Bennett has nothing to do with my life."

"Yes, my Lord," Frank replied, taking the phone and stepping back.

Just then, a tiny, weak voice called out from the hospital bed.

"Daddy?"

Marcus turned around instantly, the ice on his face melting into pure warmth as he rushed over to the mattress.

Mia was awake.

The pure blood from the transport helicopter had worked like a miracle, pushing all the cold gray color from her small face. Her large brown eyes were bright, and her soft cheeks were glowing with healthy warmth.

"I am right here, sweetheart," Marcus said gently, taking her tiny fingers and pressing them against his cheek. "Daddy is right here. Does your chest hurt?"

Mia shook her head slowly, a sweet, tired smile touching her lips. "No, Daddy. The heavy stone on my chest is gone. I can breathe now."

Marcus felt a sharp pang in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears of pure relief. "You are safe now, baby. The doctors gave you medicine, and you will never hurt like that again."

Mia looked around the quiet room, her eyes wandering toward the closed wooden door.

"Daddy..." Mia whispered in a soft voice. "Did Mommy come to see me?"

Marcus froze, his heart aching as if struck by a blade.

For four years, Marcus had watched this sweet girl wait by the window until midnight, clutching her small teddy bear while waiting for a mother who never showed up.

Marcus gently smoothed her soft hair, refusing to lie to her any longer. "No, Mia. Mommy had important company business to take care of."

Mia did not cry.

Instead, she lowered her head for a moment, then looked back up into Marcus's eyes with a calm understanding that no four-year-old child should ever have.

"It is okay, Daddy," Mia whispered, squeezing his thumb with her little hand. "Mommy is always busy with Uncle Julian. She gets angry when I cry. I only need you, Daddy."

Those innocent words cut Marcus deeper than any insult Clara had ever spoken.

He leaned forward, wrapping his strong arms gently around his daughter's small frame, holding her tightly against his beating chest.

"You will never have to wait for her again, Mia," Marcus swore in a low, trembling voice. "Daddy will take care of you forever, and nobody will ever push you aside again."

Mia rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh before closing her eyes peacefully.

Within minutes, her breathing became slow and steady as she drifted into a deep, restful sleep.

Frank tapped lightly on the open doorway, his expression unusually tense as he stepped forward.

"My Lord," Frank whispered. "The woman who donated the matched blood is in the private waiting room next door. She refuses to leave until she speaks with you."

Marcus pulled the warm blanket up to Mia’s chin and stood up from the chair.

"Stay by this door, Frank," Marcus ordered in a hard tone. "If anyone approaches this ward, remove them immediately."

"Understood, sir."

Marcus adjusted his dark jacket, turned around, and pushed open the heavy oak door leading into the private VIP lounge.

Sitting on the leather sofa was a young woman of breathtaking grace, wearing a simple white cashmere coat.

Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her pale, beautiful face was stained with fresh tears.

Beside the sofa stood two senior security guards from Titan Sovereign, both of them keeping their heads bowed with the highest respect.

The moment Marcus walked into the room, the woman looked up.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes went wide as she stared at Marcus's tall frame, her whole body shaking violently as she stood up from the sofa.

"It really is you..." she gasped, her voice trembling with sheer disbelief.

Marcus stopped three paces away from her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes cold and unmoving.

"Who are you?" Marcus asked, his voice flat. "Frank said you begged on your knees to see me. Why were you searching for my daughter's medical file?"

The woman reached into her worn canvas bag with shaking fingers and pulled out a thick, faded document stamped with the seal of Oakville General Hospital.

"My name is Evelyn Drake," she said, tears spilling over her eyelashes and running down her pale cheeks. "Marcus... Mia is not Clara Bennett's daughter."

The quiet room seemed to freeze instantly.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed into sharp, lethal points. "What did you say?"

"Mia came from my body," Evelyn wept, holding the trembling papers out toward his chest. "Clara Bennett stole my baby from the hospital crib!"

Marcus did not take the papers. His voice dropped into a terrifying hush that made the guards by the door lower their heads in fear. "Speak clearly before I have you thrown out of this hospital."

Evelyn wiped her wet face, stepping closer to him, her voice cracking with pure agony.

"Four years ago, my husband died in a construction accident while I was eight months pregnant," Evelyn explained through her tears. "I gave birth to my daughter alone in the charity ward of Oakville General Hospital."

She pointed a shaking finger at the hospital intake stamps.

"On that exact same night, Clara Bennett gave birth to a sick infant in the private suite down the hall. Her baby died thirty minutes after delivery."

Marcus stared at her, the breath catching in his throat as the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

"Old Master Arthur Bennett had made a strict rule in his will," Evelyn continued, her voice trembling with raw grief. "Clara would only inherit the family shares of Bennett Tech if she produced a living child within her first year of marriage."

Evelyn clutched the papers tightly against her chest. "Clara was desperate for the money. She paid the head nurse two million dollars to declare my healthy baby dead and switch the identity tags!"

"I woke up from surgery to find my baby gone," Evelyn cried, dropping to her knees before Marcus, looking up at him with raw, desperate grief. "The doctors told me my baby was stillborn, but I spent four years tracking the nurse who took the bribe until she finally confessed on her deathbed three weeks ago!"

Marcus felt his hands clench into tight fists, his knuckles turning white as iron.

He remembered that night four years ago vividly. He had rushed back from an overseas mission, only to find Clara lying in bed holding a baby, warning him never to ask questions about the hospital bills.

Evelyn reached up, placing the official laboratory papers into Marcus’s numb hands.

"Look at the genetic test, Marcus!" Evelyn begged. "The match between me and Mia is ninety-nine point nine percent! I spent years sleeping in shelters and searching every clinic in the province until I tracked the blood records!"

Marcus looked down at the official black ink on the page, the seal of the state laboratory staring right back at him.

Every dinner he had cooked for Clara, every insult he had swallowed from her family, and every sacrifice he had made to protect Bennett Tech flashed through his mind like a cruel, twisted joke.

Clara had never loved Mia.

Clara had never cared if the child lived or died, because Mia was never her blood at all.

Marcus looked down at the weeping woman kneeling on the floor.

He thought of the four years he had spent walking four miles every midnight to buy milk.

He thought of holding Mia against his chest whenever she had a fever, and how her small arms wrapped around his neck whenever she was scared.

Blood did not make a father. Love, sacrifice, and devotion did.

Marcus slowly knelt down on one knee in front of Evelyn.

He reached out with his calloused hands, gently took her trembling wrists, and helped her up from the floor.

"You don't have to kneel to anyone, Evelyn," Marcus said, his voice softer than it had been all night. "Mia may not share my blood, but I raised her with my own two hands. I am her father, and nothing in this world will ever change that."

Evelyn looked at him through her tears, stunned by the gentle strength in his eyes.

Marcus looked at her thin clothes and worn shoes, seeing the unbearable suffering she had endured to find her child.

"Your husband is gone, and you have nowhere left to go," Marcus said in a calm, steady tone that carried absolute authority. "From tonight on, you will never sleep in the cold again. You and Mia are under the protection of Titan Sovereign."

Marcus turned his head toward the door, where Frank stood waiting.

"Frank."

"Yes, my Lord?" Frank answered immediately, bowing his head.

"Arrange the penthouse suite at Harbor Tower for Miss Drake," Marcus commanded coldly. "Assign a full medical team, four personal attendants, and top security. From this moment on, anyone who dares look down on her or my daughter will answer to me."

Frank bowed deeply. "It will be done within the hour, sir."

Marcus turned back to Evelyn, his eyes burning with an unshakeable, lethal resolve.

"Clara Bennett stole an orphan, used our daughter to steal a fortune, and abandoned her to die on a cold hospital bed," Marcus whispered, the air around him turning freezing cold. "I will make sure she pays back every single drop of tears you and Mia cried."