Alpha's Abandoned Daughter is the Secret Heiress novel Chapter 278

Chapter 278: Theodore Decides to Handle It Personally

Chapter 278: Theodore Decides to Handle It Personally

(Amelia’s POV)

Theodore nodded, his expression grim as he confirmed our next destination. We were heading

straight to the sanitarium to confront Theron.

His gaze dropped to the bag slung over my shoulder. instead of my usual sleek designer purse, I

was carrying a heavy–duty tactical backpack.

“Going to war, Amelia?” he asked, a flicker of amusement breaking through his stoic mask. “You

look like you are prepared for a siege.”

I patted the backpack, the metallic clink of heavy tools shifting inside audible even over the hum of

the car engine.

“Just some persuasion aids,” I replied with a dark smile. *Ava* paced excitedly in my mind, her tail

thrashing in anticipation of the justice we were about to serve. “Dealing with a slippery old Alpha

like your father requires preparation.”

I adjusted the strap, feeling the reassuring weight of the steel and silver instruments.

“Though, honestly,” I added, tilting my head thoughtfully. “Given Theron’s fragile ego and cowardly

nature, I doubt I will need the heavy machinery. He will likely crack before I even unzip the main

compartment.”

Theodore chuckled, the sound low and rich. He didn’t disagree.

“We should eat first,” he said, checking his watch. “I ordered steak and salad from a nearby bistro

to be delivered to the sanitarium’s reception. We can’t work on an empty stomach.”

My smile widened into a genuine grin. “I couldn’t agree more. Torturing villains is calorie–burning

work.”

(Theodore’s POV)

We finished our lunch in the reception area, the protein fueling my body for the unpleasant task

ahead.

Director Yates, sweating profusely in his white coat, led us down the sterile hallway toward the VIP

wing.

Before we even reached the door to Theron’s luxury suite, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the corridor.

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< Chapter 278 Theodore Decides to Handle It Personally

“Where is he?!” Theron’s voice boomed, muffled slightly by the heavy oak door but unmista its rage. “Why hasn’t my son come to see me?”

Yates flinched, looking apologetically at me, but I signaled for him to remain silent.

“It is all your fault, you quack!” Theron screamed again. “You and your useless therapy!”

We could hear the calm, professional voice of Julian Pierce responding amidst the chaos.

“Mr. Crimson, throwing vases will not expedite your release,” Julian said, his tone dangerously polite. “Excessive anger is detrimental to your recovery.”

There was a pause, and then Julian’s voice turned sharper.

“And regarding your son… perhaps he is simply busy fixing the mess you left behind. The heir to the Crimson family is in excellent mental health. You, however, are the one in desperate need of psychological reconstruction.”

“I am not crazy!” Theron roared, the sound of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor following his outburst. “When I get out of here, I will make you pay! I will ruin you!”

Amelia didn’t wait for him to finish his threat. She kicked the door open, the lock splintering with a

sharp crack.

Theron froze in the middle of the room, a broken lamp in his hand.

The moment his eyes landed on me, the snarl on his face vanished. It was instantly replaced by an expression of overwhelming, pathetic joy.

“Theodore! My boy!”

He dropped the lamp and lunged toward my wheelchair, arms wide open.

Two male nurses stepped in immediately, restraining him by the arms before he could touch me.

Theron slumped in their grip, tears instantly streaming down his face. He began to wail, fully committing to the role of the abandoned, suffering father.

“Oh, thank the Moon Goddess you are here,” he sobbed. “Look at how they treat me! It’s a prison, son. Please, you have to take me home. I can’t stay here another night.”

“Save the performance,” Amelia cut in, her voice cutting through his theatrics like a blade. “You didn’t look this desperate for family connection when you were unleashing your illegitimate children to destroy Theodore’s life.”

Theron’s face darkened instantly. He glared at her before turning his pleading eyes back to me. “That wasn’t me!” he insisted, his voice trembling with feigned innocence. “That was Ronan and

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Chacher 27% Theodore Decides to Handle it Personally

Isla! They were greedy. They were jealous! I never wanted to hurt you, Theodore. I am you.

I watched him, feeling nothing but a cold void where respect used to be.

I signaled Marcus. My Beta stepped forward, pushing my wheelchair closer until I was just out of Theror’s reach.

“I will give you one last chance,” I said, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Who did you sell Jasper to twenty years ago?”

Theron’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically.

“I didn’t! I swear on the family name, I didn’t sell him!” he cried out, sweat beading on his forehead. “It was Bianca! That woman was a viper. She did it behind my back. I knew nothing about it!”

Amelia let out a harsh, mocking laugh.

“Bianca?” she scoffed, stepping forward to stand beside me. “You expect us to believe that a mistress managed to swap the Alpha King’s grandson right under the nose of the entire Crimson pack without any help?”

She shook her head, looking at him with undisguised contempt.

“You are insulting our intelligence, Theron.”

She leaned down slightly, locking eyes with him.

“You aren’t stupid. You are just terrified of dying. You think if you deny it until the end, Theodore won’t kill you because of some misplaced filial piety. You think confession makes you useless.”

Theron’s face turned a shade of purple I had never seen before. Cornered and exposed, his mask of the loving father shattered completely.

He bared his teeth at Amelia, saliva flying from his mouth.

“You shut your mouth, you stray bitch!” he spat, his eyes wild with malice. “You are a ruthless, uneducated mongrel! A woman who would destroy her own parents has no right to lecture me!”

He strained against the nurses, pointing a trembling finger at her.

“You are poisoning my son against me! You are nothing but a gold–digging whore trying to climb into my family!”

A low, vibrating growl started in my chest. *Logan* roared in my mind, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury.

The last shred of hesitation, the final tiny speck of mercy I held for the man who gave me life,

evaporated in that instant.

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<Chapter 278: Theodore Decides to Handle It Personally

I turned my head slowly to Amelia.

“Amelia,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “Wait outside.”

She looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t mind the blood, Theodore.”

“I know,” I replied, my golden eyes burning. “But this is the Crimson family’s filth. I need to clean it

myself.”

She searched my face for a moment, seeing the absolute finality in my gaze. She nodded once, respecting my decision, and turned on her heel to leave the room..

As the door clicked shut behind her, the air in the room grew heavy and suffocating.

“Everyone out,” I commanded.

The doctors and nurses didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled for the exit, sensing the lethal

aura radiating from me.

Marcus remained. He walked to the door, closed it firmly, and engaged the deadbolt with a loud

*click*.

The room fell silent.

Theron looked around, realizing we were alone. A look of relief washed over his face. He clearly misunderstood the situation.

He rushed toward me, dropping to his knees and grabbing my hand.

“Oh, Theodore,” he breathed, clutching my fingers. “I knew you wouldn’t let that outsider dictate our relationship. You sent them away because you believe me, right? We are family.”

I looked down at his hands on mine. They felt like slime.

I ripped my hand away with a violent jerk, wiping it on my trousers as if I had touched something

rotting.

“I don’t want to hear another word from your lying mouth,” I said coldly.

I looked up at my Beta.

“Marcus. Serve the appetizer.”

Theron blinked, confusion clouding his eyes. “Appetizer? What…”

Marcus didn’t speak. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver switchblade. The blade

snapped open with a deadly sound, glinting under the fluorescent lights.

Theron scrambled backward, his eyes bulging.

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“Theodore? What are you doing?” He held up his hands. “I am your father! You wouldnt private punishment on me! I am the former…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Marcus stepped forward and delivered a brutal kick to Theron’s stomach.

Theron doubled over with a wheeze, air forcefully expelled from his lungs.

Before he could recover, Marcus kicked him again, sending him sprawling onto his back.

Marcus stepped on Theron’s chest, pinning him to the floor. With practiced efficiency, he grabbed Theron’s right arm, exposing the wrist.

The silver blade flashed.

With a sickening slicing sound, Marcus severed the tendons in Theron’s wrist.

Theron let out a scream that sounded like a pig being slaughtered. His face went white as paper.

Marcus didn’t pause. He grabbed the other wrist and repeated the motion.

Another scream tore through the soundproofed room.

Theron writhed on the floor, his hands flopping uselessly, blood pooling on the pristine tiles.

Marcus moved down to his legs. He hooked the blade behind Theron’s ankle and pulled.

The Achilles tendon snapped.

Theron’s scream turned into a gurgling sob of pure agony.

Marcus moved to the other leg. Slash.

Now, Theron could neither run nor fight. He was a broken thing, gasping for air, tears and snot

mixing on his face.

Marcus stood over him, his expression stony. He reached down and grabbed Theron’s jaw, his fingers digging into the cheeks with bruising force.

He forced Theron’s mouth open.

The blood–stained silver dagger hovered inches