Nine C-Section, Nine Dead Sons, One Escape novel Chapter 6

Dr. Leonard Voss dropped to his knees, forehead thudding against the floor. Ashworth has no vital signs. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Mr. Ashworth. Mrs.

Julian’s foot drove into the doctor’s chest. Voss tumbled backward a full three yards.

Julian’s eyes blazed red.

“She was standing right in front of me! How can she just be dead?”

“Find a way! If you can’t bring her back, you’ll be buried right beside her!”

The doctor lay on the floor, trembling too hard to speak, too terrified to move.

room. No one dared breathe.

Silence crushed the

After a long beat, Priscilla coughed delicately into her hand. “Julian. Vivienne’s gone. You have to let yourself mourn, but you can’t fall apart.”

She even squeezed out two tears. The picture of devastated mourning.

But her eyes… those eyes glittered with the glee she couldn’t quite suppress.

“Priscilla. Did I do something wrong? Did I push her to this?”

“Julian, you’re the CEO of

Julian spun toward her, his gaze lost.

Priscilla pressed herself against him immediately, voice like warm honey. Ashworth Group. You don’t make mistakes.”

“Vivienne was cursed with bad luck. That’s not on you.”

him whole.

Julian said nothing. He stared at Vivienne’s body, and the hollow ache in his chest swallowed

For days, he couldn’t eat. Something essential had been torn out of him, and he couldn’t name it.

He drifted like a ghost. Days blurred.

Then came the board meeting. A major shareholder rose, his face set like a man walking to his own execution. “Mr. Ashworth. I move to dismiss Julian Ashworth from the position of CEO.”

“Mr. Ashworth took the word of a fraud psychic. He allowed Miss Holloway to hound his lawful wife to her death, and he desecrated the body of his own child.”

“These are atrocities. Ashworth Group’s century–old reputation is in ruins.”

As his voice fell, over a dozen shareholders stood in unison.

“Second. Mrs. Ashworth was decent and loyal. In ten years of marriage, she never brought a whisper of scandal to this family. Child after child dead, there’s more to this than we’ve been told.”

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“Second. Priscilla Holloway used her position to tear this house apart. Mr. Ashworth owes this board a full accounting.”

Julian’s skull pounded. He slammed his fist on the conference table, voice dropping to

“Since when you can judge my family business?”

something guttural and dangerous.

The room went silent. But nobody sat down.

Then the pounding started on the boardroom doors.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Julian’s face drained.

The doors swung open. A white–haired old man leaned on a cane and walked in, step by deliberate step.

Julian shot up from his seat, shock ripping across his face.

“Mr. Sinclair?”

The old man was Vivienne’s grandfather. Harold Sinclair. Founder of Sinclair Industries. A titan.

He’d stepped back from the front lines a decade ago and never set foot in Ashworth territory again.

Now he walked to the center of the room. He lowered himself into a chair. And his words bled.

“My granddaughter. A decade in this family. Child after child she gave Julian Ashworth.”

“And every single one of them died. Innocent.”

“My granddaughter was seared with a branding iron. Driven into a fire. Burned alive.”

“Julian Ashworth! She was twenty–eight years old!”

He paused. His voice detonated.

Harold Sinclair slammed his palm on the table, old tears streaming.

“Hostile energy? Restless spirits? Lies! All of it, fabricated, start to finish!”

“It was Priscilla Holloway conspiring with a doctor and a psychic. A coordinated fraud!”

“I demand this board launch a full investigation. Punish the people who did this. Clear my granddaughter’s name, and get justice for those children!”

The room erupted. Every shareholder stood.

“Open an investigation! Hold them accountable!”

“Investigate! Make them pay!”

Julian stood frozen at the head of the table, staring at the packed room, at the old man in front.

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It finally crashed down on him. The woman he’d hounded to death had power behind her. Power he couldn’t touch.

Harold Sinclair had stepped back, yes. But his network was a root system choking through every corner of the business world. Half of Ashworth Group’s partners had history with him.

Everyone in this room had shown up ready to burn bridges.

Harold Sinclair pulled a file from his briefcase and raised it high.

“Julian Ashworth. I have evidence.”

He bit off every word.

“Priscilla Holloway’s crimes. All of them. Witnesses. Documentation. Everything.”

Julian stood paralyzed.

An assistant took the file with trembling hands and placed it in front of him.

He turned one page.

‘And shattered.

“I’ll give you your answers.”

Chapter 6