The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 482

“You really think I’d lie to you? Newborns are delicate. You can’t just grab them.”

One of the bodyguards kept his eyes locked on him. “Cut the crap. Unwrap that blanket.”

Another guy stepped up. “Boss, he’s definitely bluffing. When my kid was born, they weighed and measured him before he was wrapped up.”

The lead bodyguard didn’t hesitate. He moved straight toward Harrell. “Hand the baby over—”

Harrell didn’t wait for him to finish. He grabbed something from beside him and hurled it across the room, then bolted toward the door, clutching the baby close.

“Stop him! Grab him!” The bodyguards rushed forward, shouting over each other. The operating room was suddenly a mess of noise and shoving.

Harrell tried to shield the tiny baby, but he didn’t stand a chance. The bodyguards closed in fast. He didn’t even make it to the door before they blocked his way.

“Give me the baby!”

“Do you have any idea whose kid this is? If you lay a hand on him, you’ll regret it.” Harrell’s arms tightened around the baby protectively.

Harrell refused to let go, and none of the men dared to snatch the baby out of his arms. Tension hung in the air as they argued by the wall, not moving an inch.

Over by the table, the doctor who was stitching up Catherine’s wound tried to stay focused, but her hands began to shake.

Everything around Catherine felt like a blurry dream. She picked out the baby’s cries, the argument, things clattering to the floor, snapping her in and out of reality.

She forced her eyes open, but her vision was all smudged. All she could see were shifting shadows—green scrubs, dark suits, everything swirling together.

“Hit him! Don’t hold back!”

It didn’t take long for Harrell to lose the fight. The baby was ripped from his arms. The rest of the men crowded around Harrell in the corner, throwing punches and kicks until he slumped down.

“Take the baby—”

Catherine’s eyes fluttered wide open. “Where… where’s the baby?” Her voice was soft and slurred, her lips barely parting.

“Your stitches are just done. Please, try to rest.” The doctor’s voice trembled. She kept glancing nervously across the room.

“Lance… this baby is…” The bodyguard’s confidence drained away in an instant.

Lance answered without hesitation. “He’s mine.”

The bodyguard looked lost. “What?”

Catherine’s breathing was shallow. Her vision was blotched with tears—she couldn’t even get a word out. Her body felt numb, drugged, trapped in a cruel dream. The raw panic of not knowing where her baby was tore at her.

But then she heard, gentle and close, “Don’t cry. Your baby’s right here.”

Someone placed a tiny bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket next to her.

A large, warm hand brushed over her eyes, wiping away the tears clouding her vision.

When she looked up, Lance’s sharply defined face filled her view.