One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

It began like any ordinary morning in the Kingston estate.
The sun spilled through tall glass panes, casting golden light over the sleek marble floors. Children’s laughter echoed faintly through the halls—Hazel and Noah playing tag near the nursery, Lily curled on the reading nook with her newest book.
Arielle stood in the kitchen with her tea, watching the steam swirl as Damien typed furiously beside her, still riding the adrenaline high from winning the boardroom battle.
But fate didn’t care about corporate victories.
Not when someone out there still wanted them destroyed.
The scream was faint—muffled by distance and layered walls—but a mother’s ears are tuned to terror.
Arielle’s cup shattered as it hit the floor.
“Hazel,” she whispered, already running.
Damien was two steps behind her, the thunder of his feet matching her racing pulse. They turned the corner just as a dark-clothed man was halfway through the side door, one arm tightly wrapped around Hazel’s torso, the child thrashing and crying.
“LET HER GO!” Damien’s voice cracked like a whip.
The man froze—for a second.
But that second was all Damien needed.
He lunged.
The impact sent both men crashing into the foyer’s marble column. Hazel screamed and dropped to the floor, scrambling to Arielle’s arms. Guards stormed in seconds later, weapons drawn, pinning the intruder to the ground.
Blood, sweat, and cold fury filled the air.
In the aftermath, the estate transformed into a war zone.
The assailant was silent—refusing to speak, refusing to answer.
But his fingerprints told a story: ex-security contractor. Dishonorably discharged. Paid off through untraceable crypto.
A hit. Not random.
Target: the children.
Damien stood by Hazel’s hospital bed later that evening. The little girl slept, her hands still trembling in dreams.
Arielle sat nearby, pale and silent.
“She’s going to be okay,” he whispered, though it sounded more like a plea.
Arielle didn’t respond.
Her gaze was hollow, fixed on the bruises marring her daughter’s arm.
“This isn’t business anymore,” she finally said. “This is war.”
Later that night, as the children slept under armed watch, Arielle and Damien met in the security command room.
“I want full psychological screenings of every staff member,” she said. “No one walks these halls if they aren’t vetted to the bone.”
Damien nodded. “And I want you and the kids off-site. Just until—”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I will not run,” she said. “I ran once. After Vegas. After the pregnancy. Because I thought I couldn’t survive the world we were in.”
Tears lined her lashes but didn’t fall.
“But now? Now I have too much to protect. And I am not going to disappear again.”
Damien pulled her into his arms.
“Then we fight. Together.”
As the estate’s new defense protocols activated—panic buttons, silent locks, biometric verifications—one thing became painfully clear:
This wasn’t just about stocks or legacy.
Someone out there wanted their entire bloodline erased.
And the game had just turned deadly.