Blaire gestured to her assistant. The assistant pushed open the door to the hospital's VIP lounge. A senior partner from a top-tier law firm was already waiting inside, his briefcase resting on the glass table.

The lawyer pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. He slid a freshly printed divorce agreement, stamped with the firm's gold foil logo, to the center of the table.

Daryl walked into the room. He did not sit. His tall, broad frame cast a heavy, oppressive shadow over the table.

The lawyer began to read the terms in a robotic, clinical voice. He listed the stripping of Daryl's rights to the Doyle family trust, the real estate, and even the cars he used for groceries.

Blaire sat on the leather sofa. She crossed her long legs and stared out the window at the Manhattan skyline, acting as if the man she had slept next to for five years did not exist.

The lawyer finished reading. He pulled out a pre-signed check, placed it on top of the agreement, and pushed it toward Daryl.

"This is a settlement of five million dollars," the lawyer explained. "The condition is that you surrender all custody rights to Cassie and sign a lifetime Non-Disclosure Agreement."

Before Daryl could speak, the lounge door burst open. Marlene's attending physician rushed in, looking frantic.

"I apologize for the interruption," the doctor said, out of breath. "Marlene woke up briefly in the ICU. She is extremely agitated. She is demanding to see Blaire."

Blaire frowned. She let out an annoyed sigh, clearly viewing this as an unnecessary delay, but she stood up and walked out of the room to get it over with.

The group gathered outside the glass wall of the Intensive Care Unit. Marlene lay in the bed, an oxygen mask strapped to her face. She turned her head weakly and looked through the glass at Blaire.

Marlene lifted a trembling hand. Her eyes were wide with desperate pleading, begging her daughter-in-law to show mercy.

Blaire stepped up to the glass. She pressed the intercom button on the wall. Her voice piped into the room, cold, steady, and utterly ruthless.

"I am divorcing him, Marlene," Blaire said. "And I am taking Cassie. Your son is a failure. He does not deserve to be a father."

Marlene's eyes widened in sheer terror. The heart monitor next to her bed instantly erupted into a high-pitched, continuous wail.

Marlene's body convulsed once, and she fell back into a deep coma. Doctors and nurses sprinted into the room, charging the defibrillator.

Daryl watched his mother flatline because of Blaire's words. The last thread of his restraint snapped.

He spun around. His hand shot out and clamped around Blaire's wrist. His grip was like a steel vise, pressing so hard the bones in her arm ground together.

Blaire let out a sharp cry of pain. Her mask of ice shattered. She stared up at Daryl, her eyes wide with sudden, raw terror. He looked like a demon crawling out of hell.

Preston roared and lunged forward to grab Daryl's arm. Jaxon stayed safely behind his father, his previous terror keeping him pinned to the wall as he shouted empty threats. "Let go of my sister!" Jaxon yelled, his voice cracking.

Daryl did not even touch them. A terrifying, invisible shockwave of Draconic energy exploded from his body. The force of it acted like a guided missile, completely bypassing Blaire's trembling form. The invisible wave curved over her shoulder and slammed directly into Preston's chest. Both Preston and the cowering Jaxon were thrown backward, crashing hard onto the linoleum floor.

Daryl shoved Blaire away. He pointed a shaking finger down the hallway.

"Get out!" Daryl roared. The sound shook the glass windows.

Blaire stumbled backward, her back hitting the wall. A dark red bruise was already forming on her wrist.

Daryl's eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving. "From this second on, you are permanently banned from coming near my mother. If you take one step toward that room, I will bury the entire Doyle family."

Blaire's heart hammered against her ribs. The killing intent in his eyes was so real, so suffocating, that her throat closed up. She could not force a single word out.

The family lawyer, trembling in the corner, nervously held up the divorce agreement, trying to break the terrifying tension.

Daryl snatched the papers from the lawyer's hands. He marched back into the VIP lounge and grabbed the Montblanc pen from the table.

He did not read a single word of the asset stripping clauses. He flipped to the last page and slashed his signature across the bottom line.

Then, he picked up the five-million-dollar check.

While Blaire watched in stunned silence, Daryl ripped the check in half. Then he tore it again, and again, until it was nothing but confetti. He threw the pieces right into Blaire's face.

The torn pieces of the five-million-dollar check fluttered through the air, landing on Blaire's pristine Chanel jacket. Her face turned pale, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Aisling Doyle, Blaire's younger sister, had been hiding in the corner of the hallway. She could not take it anymore. She rushed into the lounge and stood in front of Daryl.

"You are going too far, Blaire!" Aisling yelled, her eyes red with tears.

Aisling pointed at Daryl. "He gave up everything to take care of this family! He stayed awake for three days straight when you were sick in the hospital!"

Blaire looked at her sister with absolute disdain. She spoke as if reprimanding a junior employee.

"Emotional value cannot be quantified on a balance sheet, Aisling," Blaire said coldly. "He provides nothing but feelings. He is an obstacle to my pursuit of excellence."

Daryl reached out and gently patted Aisling's shoulder. He pulled her behind him, shielding her.

"You don't need to beg for me," Daryl said quietly. "Not to her."

Daryl turned his attention to the lawyer. His voice dropped an octave, carrying a tone of absolute command.

"Reprint the last page."

Daryl looked straight at Blaire. "Since the Doyle family values assets and social status so much, let's play a game."

He dictated the terms to the lawyer. "Add a gambling clause. One year from today. Whoever holds the higher net worth and social influence gets absolute custody of Cassie. Until then, joint guardianship, but she lives with me."

The lawyer stopped typing. He looked at Daryl as if the man had lost his mind, then turned to Blaire for instruction.

Blaire let out a sharp, mocking laugh. It was the laugh one gives a delusional beggar.

"You?" Blaire sneered. "An unemployed househusband who just threw away his only lifeline, trying to out-earn the Doyle Group in twelve months?"

Daryl did not argue. He just stared at her. The look in his eyes was no longer angry. It was a look of profound, chilling pity.

"Because you know nothing," Daryl said softly, "your end will be miserable."

That look of pity infuriated Blaire. It violated her logic. He was at the bottom, yet he looked at her like she was the one in the gutter.

"Add the clause," Blaire snapped at the lawyer, wanting to crush his delusions permanently.

The lawyer quickly typed the amendment and printed the new page on his portable printer.

Both of them signed the new clause. They pressed their thumbprints onto the paper. The legal trap was set.

Blaire snatched her copy of the agreement. She held it like a trophy and turned toward the door.

"Within a year," Daryl's voice floated behind her, dark and heavy as a curse, "your empire will collapse. Your beliefs will shatter. And you will be on your knees begging for my forgiveness."

Blaire's footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. She did not turn around.

"I will be waiting," she said coldly, and walked out.

The rest of the Doyle family looked at Daryl like he was a diseased animal and hurried out after her.

Only Aisling remained. She looked at Daryl, her face full of panic. "Why did you sign that? You can't win."

A dangerous glint flashed in Daryl's dark eyes. "The world is much bigger than you think, Aisling."

Daryl pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed a heavily encrypted number he had not used in five years.

The call connected instantly. A voice on the other end spoke, trembling with absolute reverence.

"Lord Thanatos."

"Prepare the highest-level medical team," Daryl ordered, his voice turning into ice. "Initiate the Scavenger Protocol."

Five minutes after hanging up the phone, Daryl walked out of the lounge and pushed open the door to the attending physician's office.

The doctor was staring at Marlene's massive unpaid billing screen. When he saw Daryl, his face hardened into a mask of corporate policy.

"Mr. Bush, since Ms. Doyle withdrew her financial guarantee, we can only provide basic life support," the doctor said flatly.

"Process the transfer paperwork immediately," Daryl said, his face devoid of emotion. "I am taking her out of here."

The doctor frowned, shaking his head. "Your mother cannot survive the turbulence of a standard ambulance ride right now. Moving her is murder."

Before Daryl could reply, the heavy landline on the doctor's desk began to ring frantically. The caller ID flashed the hospital president's secure internal line.

The doctor picked up the receiver. Within seconds, the blood drained from his face. He nodded aggressively, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

He hung up the phone and looked at Daryl. The annoyance in his eyes was entirely replaced by stark terror and awe.

"The... the transfer is green-lit," the doctor stammered, his hands shaking. "The receiving facility is the Asclepius Private Sanatorium."

Daryl did not acknowledge the doctor's shock. He turned and walked straight toward the ICU.

Downstairs, Blaire and Estevan were walking through the main hospital lobby, discussing the catering for their upcoming merger banquet.

Suddenly, a deafening roar tore through the night sky. The glass doors of the lobby violently vibrated as the sound of heavy helicopter rotors beat against the air.

Two massive, pitch-black medical transport helicopters, stripped of all identifying logos, descended directly onto the hospital's emergency plaza.

At the exact same moment, eight black, armored Cadillac SUVs screeched to a halt, completely blocking every exit of the hospital.

Dozens of men in black tactical suits, wearing invisible earpieces, poured out of the vehicles. They moved with terrifying precision, instantly forming a hard perimeter.

The patients and staff in the lobby froze in shock, assuming a president or a cartel boss was under attack.

Blaire and Estevan were trapped inside the lobby, blocked by the wall of tactical guards.

Estevan narrowed his eyes, trying to spot a family crest or corporate logo on the guards' uniforms, but there was nothing.

The double doors of the ICU wing swung open. Daryl walked out, pushing a heavily modified mobile life-support bed.

Two world-class trauma surgeons walked closely behind him, whispering vital stats with utmost respect.

The moment Daryl stepped into the main lobby, every single man in a black tactical suit snapped to attention and bowed their heads in perfect unison.

Blaire saw it. Her pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks. Her brain completely short-circuited.

She could not process the image. These men looked deadlier than Secret Service agents, and they were bowing to her useless, unemployed ex-husband.

"It's a stunt," Estevan whispered fiercely into Blaire's ear, trying to save his own ego. "The Doyle family enemies are putting on a show to cause chaos."

Daryl pushed the bed through the center of the lobby. His cold eyes swept over Blaire and Estevan, who were held back behind the security line.

He didn't say a single word. He just looked at them like they were ants on the pavement. That silent, absolute disregard cut deeper into Blaire's pride than any insult.

The bed was smoothly loaded into the first black helicopter.

Daryl turned to board, but a deafening, aggressive roar of a supercar engine ripped through the plaza.

A limited-edition Lamborghini Veneno drifted around the armored SUVs with reckless, arrogant speed, slamming on the brakes right next to the helicopter.

The scissor door shot upward. A pair of long legs, ending in diamond-encrusted heels, stepped out onto the concrete.