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The Comatose Billionaire's Secret Genius Bride Novel Cover

The Comatose Billionaire's Secret Genius Bride

Arletta Lee is forced from rural Pennsylvania into a sacrificial marriage with Josue McConnell, a comatose billionaire heir. Within his estate, greedy relatives plot Josue’s death, viewing Arletta as a disposable pawn. They underestimate her, unaware she is a secret master surgeon. Using hidden acupuncture, Arletta dismantles their lethal schemes and secures the patriarch's favor. As Josue finally stirs, she prepares to unleash him on his treacherous family.
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Chapter 7

At 10:00 AM, the sunlight in Cornelius's mahogany study was blinding.

Cornelius sat behind his massive desk. He looked ten years younger. The color had returned to his face.

Arletta sat in the leather chair opposite him. She kept her right hand in her lap. A faint red ring bruised her wrist where Josue had gripped her all morning.

Cornelius slid a sleek, heavy black metal card across the polished wood. It was an American Express Centurion Card.

"From this moment on," Cornelius said, his voice carrying absolute authority, "you have top priority over all medical staff and resources in this house. Whatever you need for Josue, you buy it."

Arletta's eyes widened. She reached out with trembling fingers and took the card. "T-thank you, sir. I just want him to get better."

Outside the study, the door was cracked open an inch. Dori and Kyler stood in the hallway, watching the exchange.

Kyler's face twisted in pure rage. Dori's eyes burned with jealousy. They backed away silently and hurried down the hall to Dori's luxurious suite in the west wing.

The moment the door locked behind them, Dori snapped. She swept her arm across her vanity, sending thousands of dollars of La Mer skincare crashing to the floor.

"If he wakes up, we are finished!" Dori hissed, her voice trembling with panic. "Cornelius will throw us out on the street!"

Kyler slumped onto the velvet sofa. His legs worked again, but his lower back still throbbed with a dull ache. He glared at the floor.

"We can't wait anymore," Kyler muttered. "We need a permanent solution."

Dori froze. She ran to the door, double-checked the lock, and pulled the heavy soundproof curtains shut.

Kyler reached into the inside pocket of his tailored suit jacket. He pulled out a small, black metal case with a biometric lock. He pressed his thumb to the scanner. The lid popped open.

Inside lay a single medical syringe, pre-filled with a clear liquid.

"I bought this on the black market," Kyler whispered. "It's a synthetic neurotoxin. The FDA doesn't even have a record of it. You push this into his IV, it causes massive cardiac arrest in two minutes. The coroner will just think his heart gave out."

Dori stared at the syringe. The fear in her eyes slowly morphed into greedy, desperate madness.

"How?" she asked. "The east wing is guarded."

"At 5:50 PM, the nurses change shifts and go to dinner," Kyler said. "The east wing is undergoing wiring maintenance today. I bribed the security chief to create exactly a ten-minute blind spot on the hallway cameras."

"What about the girl?" Dori asked.

Kyler's eyes went dead. "If she gets in the way, I'll kill her too."

At 5:50 PM, the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the estate.

Arletta was in Josue's room. She picked up a metal kidney basin to take to the bathroom.

Suddenly, her ears caught the faint sound of the nurses' footsteps fading down the hall. Then, she heard the microscopic mechanical whir of the security camera outside the door rotating to its reset position.

Her instincts flared. A ten-minute security vacuum in a billionaire's house wasn't a glitch. It was a setup.

She didn't go to the bathroom. Instead, she backed silently into the deep shadows beside the heavy wooden wardrobe. She held her breath.

At 5:55 PM, the brass doorknob turned.

Kyler slipped into the room. He was dressed in dark clothes. His hands were covered in tight, blue medical latex gloves.

In his right hand, he held the syringe. His eyes were locked onto Josue's chest.

From the shadows, Arletta watched him. Her eyes were no longer those of a frightened girl. They were the cold, calculating eyes of a killer.

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