The Stillborn Heirs He Stitched Inside Me Kicked Again

Zareena’s POV

My tears mixed with my blood, splashing to the floor one drop at a time.

Sullivan was clearly losing patience. “Alright, enough. As long as you stay put in the basement today, I won’t—”

But before he could finish—the ground trembled beneath us. A deafening explosion tore through the air.

And then… my eyes went wide in horror as I see him.

My… My dad.

His body plunged from the shattered railing above, hitting the concrete with a bone-crushing thud—right in front of me.

His eyes—those warm, gentle eyes that used to light up every time he saw me—were now rolled back, glazed over with death. Blood gushed from his nose, his mouth, his ears. His skull was split open like a cracked porcelain doll.

“Daddy!”

A scream tore from my throat, so raw and guttural it barely sounded human.

I threw myself forward, crawling on hands and knees, fingers scrabbling desperately across the floor. The concrete shredded my skin, blood smeared beneath me—but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel it.

I just needed to reach him.

But before I could even brush his fingers, a pair of strong arms yanked me backward. Hard.

“No!” I shrieked. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Take her away,” Sullivan said lazily, not looking at me. “She’s as good as dead. If she dies now, maybe it’s better for her.”

“Y-You—” I choked, trembling, my voice cracking under the weight of rage and heartbreak. “You bastard—Sullivan!!”

I broke down completely, crying and shouting like a madwoman. “You killed your own child! And now—now you’ve murdered the man who saved your worthless life! You think you’ll walk away from this? You’re going to rot in hell!”

He finally looked at me then. Just a glance. Slightly furrowed brows, as if my pain was little more than an inconvenience. Then—he sighed.

“Lock her up,” he said, almost wearily. “Like I told you.”

As if I were a toy he’d already broken, now being sent off for safekeeping, he added, “And for the next few days… if she asks for anything, give it to her. Take good care of her.”

Sullivan’s POV

I spared no expense preparing for the press conference. Of course, it was not just a conference; it’s the time the world would know who my heir was. Money meant nothing if it meant solidifying Shannah’s place—and mine. The world needed to know who she was to me.

To start, I booked out every single gold store in the city and had them craft a peace lock made of solid gold—so big it was taller than a grown man.

Then, I dropped tens of millions to buy an entire island, naming it after Shannah.

I even broke my own rule and created a social media account—something he’d never done before—under the handle [@LoveShan].

My first post was a passionate announcement.

[Grateful for the most important woman in my life—Shannah. She gave birth to my first son. My life is complete now.]

The press conference stretched over three days. Journalists flooded in from every corner of New Jersey, cameras flashing non-stop. Under the glare of the cameras, I held Shannah’s hand like she was my world, smiling from ear to ear.

But even then—behind all the noise, behind the flashbulbs and congratulations—I found myself checking my phone.

Over and over.

Waiting.

Waiting for some kind of update from the villa.

But my phone stayed completely silent.

By the last night, I caved and made the call myself.

“It’s been three days,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “Has she acted out again? Tried to get to me? Threatened to show up here?”

There was a pause on the other end. Then the housekeeper spoke carefully. “No, sir. Ma’am Zareena hasn’t said a word in the past three days. Sh-She hasn’t even touched the food I’ve been leaving outside her door.”

Hearing that, I let out a low scoff. A faint, mocking smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. “Tch. Just sulking. Of course she is.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, pacing a few steps as the irritation rose again.

“I made it clear from the beginning,” I muttered, more to myself than the housekeeper. “Whoever gives birth to my first child, that child becomes my heir. She couldn’t do it. Instead, she kept pulling games. Pretending to be the victim. Trying to manipulate me!”

My voice tightened as I went on, old resentment flaring. “Then she had the nerve to team up with my own mother to steal the baby from Shannah. And I still didn’t punish her. I let it go. Heck, I’ve already been more than fair!”

I heaved a sigh. “And now she thinks she can guilt-trip me by starving herself?”

For a moment, I fell silent. Unbidden, the image of her father crashing to the ground replayed in my mind.

Another sigh slipped from my lips—slower this time, heavier.

“Is she mad about her dad dying? Tell her it was an accident. I didn’t expect it to end that way.”

I paused, running a hand through my hair before continuing.

“If she listens… if she eats… I’ll make sure her father gets a proper funeral.”

I hesitated, the next part catching slightly in my throat.

“I’ll even let her be named as the mother of Shannah’s baby. That way, she still gets to live her little fantasy of being the mother of my heir.”

“But only if she stops messing with Shannah,” I added quickly. “Shannah’s moving to the villa soon. From now on, they’ll be treated the same. No more drama.”

The housekeeper quickly agreed, then rushed off toward the basement.

Sullivan’s POV

The moment I heard the basement lock click and the door creak open, the housekeeper’s scream rang out.

“Sir! Sir! Ma’am Zareena—She… she’s dead! And there’s a dead baby next to her!”