The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)

hapter 96: Henry is Hurt

Emma rushed through the big mansion where she lived, following the sound of her little boy crying. Her heart was beating fast as she hurried to find her three–year–old son Henry. Every cry she heard made her run faster, worried about what she might find.

Her hands shook as she tried to put the key in the door. The house was quiet except for Henry’s cries, which seemed to bounce off the walls. The whole place felt heavy with worry, like the air before a storm. Emma had been nervous for a long time about things at home, but hearing Henry cry like this made everything worse.

When she finally got inside, the house was dark and gloomy. Shadows stretched across the walls as Emma followed the sound of crying. Her footsteps echoed as she walked quickly down the hallway, getting closer to where Henry’s cries were coming from.

The cries led her to a small, dark room at the end of the hall. Emma’s hand trembled as she reached for the door handle, which felt cold against her skin. Her heart was pounding as she wondered what she would find on the other side.

When she opened the door, the room was so dark she could barely see. Henry’s cries were louder now, and Emma had to squint to make out anything in the darkness. There, in the corner, she saw her little boy curled up and scared.

‘Mommy’s here, sweetie,” Emma said softly, trying to comfort him. She turned on the light, and what she saw broke her heart. Henry’s face was wet with tears, and he looked so small and frightened in that dark room. The air smelled stale, like the room hadn’t been opened in a long

time.

Emma ran to Henry and picked him up, holding him close. He was shaking, and she could feel his little heart beating fast against her chest. As she held him, she promised herself she would protect him from anyone who tried to hurt him.

She carried Henry out of the dark room quickly. He started to calm down a bit in her arms, his

crying getting quieter as she held him tight. The scary hallway didn’t seem as frightening anymore with Henry safe in her arms.

The playroom, which should have been a happy place full of toys and fun, had been turned into something scary. Emma couldn’t believe someone would lock her little boy in there alone

in the dark.

“Henry,” she called softly, but he just whimpered in response. She hugged him closer, feeling angry and sad at the same time.

As Emma was leaving the playroom, she ran into Henry’s grandmother, Mrs. Smith. The old woman looked at Emma with cold eyes, like she was angry at them for causing trouble.

“What’s all this noise about?” Mrs. Smith asked in a mean voice.

Emma felt anger building up inside her. “Why did you lock Henry in that dark room?” she

demanded.

“He needed to learn a lesson. He needs to behave better,” Mrs. Smith said, like what she did was perfectly fine.

“This isn’t teaching him a lesson–it’s just being cruel!” Emma said, her voice shaking with

anger.

“You’re too easy on him. Children need strict rules,” Mrs. Smith said, looking down her nose

at Emma.

“He’s only three years old! You don’t teach children by scaring them and locking them in the dark,” Emma said firmly.

“I know what’s best for this family,” Mrs. Smith said, acting like she was in charge of everything.

“This isn’t your family to control. He’s 147 son, and you won’t tell me how to raise him,” Emma shot back.

Emma wanted to hit Mrs. Smith for being so mean, but she knew that would only cause problems later if she had to fight for custody of Henry.

The two women stood in the fancy hallway, neither one wanting to back down.

“You think you know how to be a good mother?” Mrs. Smith sneered.

“I told you never to touch my son again,” Emma reminded her, standing tall and strong.

They stared at each other, neither one wanting to give in. Emma felt stronger than she ever had before, ready to protect Henry no matter what.

“You’re ruining this family,” Mrs. Smith said nastily.

“Henry isn’t part of your family, and I’ll protect him from anyone who tries to hurt him,” Emma declared.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Smith called after Emma as she turned to leave.

“I’m taking my son somewhere safe, away from you,” Emma said, carrying Henry out of that horrible place. She was done letting anyone hurt her little boy.

Emma took Henry straight to the hospital. The bright lights and clean halls felt safer than the dark mansion they’d left behind. When they got to the emergency room, the doctors and nurses quickly came to help them.

Chappie 97 Henry is Hurt

The doctor was kind and careful as he checked Henry over. He found that Henry had a fever, probably from being so scared and upset. Emma sat next to Henry’s bed, holding his hand and promising herself that she would never let anyone hurt him again.

The machines in the room made quiet beeping sounds as they kept track of Henry’s health. Emma stayed right beside him, never letting go of his tiny hand. She was going to make sure he was safe from now on.

The doctor came back with good news: with some medicine, Henry’s fever would go down, and he would feel better soon. Emma held Henry close while the nurses gave him his medicine. Even though the hospital room was cold, Emma’s hugs kept Henry warm and safe.

Through the night, Emma stayed awake, singing soft songs to Henry to help him sleep. Her quiet voice mixed with the sounds of the hospital machines, showing how much she loved her little boy.

As the night went on, Henry’s fever started to go away. When the sun came up the next morning, Emma watched her son sleeping peacefully. The hospital had become a safe place where they could start to heal together, away from the people who had hurt them.

Chapter 98: Calling Richard

Emma’s hands trembled as she dialed Richard’s number on her phone, her fingers barely able to press the right buttons. The bright screen glowed in the dimly lit hospital room, where the only other light came from the soft overhead lamp and the blinking medical machines. Sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair that squeaked whenever she moved, Emma watched her son sleeping peacefully in the white hospital bed. His small form seemed even tinier against the large pillows and crisp sheets, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The steady beep of hospital machines filled the silence, a constant reminder that although her son was alive, he wasn’t well.

The room smelled of disinfectant and clean sheets–that distinct hospital smell that made everything feel sterile and unwelcoming. Outside the window, the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Emma had lost track of how long she’d been sitting there, watching over her child and gathering the courage to make this call.

“Hello, Richard?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, cracking slightly with emotion. She tried to stay calm, but the worry in her voice was impossible to hide. Her free hand clutched the fabric of her wrinkled skirt, knuckles turning white from the tension.

“Emma, what’s wrong? I can hear something’s not right,” Richard answered quickly. His steady voice helped Emma feel a little less scared, like finding a sturdy rope when you’re about to fall. Richard had always been good at staying calm in difficult situations, one of the many things Emma appreciated about him.

Emma took a deep breath, fighting back tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. The hospital room’s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s my son, Richard. He’s in the hospital. I found him locked in a dark room at home, and he has a fever.” The words felt heavy as she said them, making the horrible situation feel even more real. Each word seemed to echo in the quiet room, bouncing off the pale green walls.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath. Then Richard spoke with determination, his voice firm and reassuring, I’m coming over. Stay with him. I’ll be there soon” Emma could hear rustling in the background, the sound of keys jingling, and a door closing, telling her he was already on his

way.

Emma held the phone tightly, feeling slightly better knowing Richard was coming. Over the past few months, he had become someone she could really count on when things got tough. Unlike others who made empty promises, Richard always showed up when she needed help. She sat by her son’s bed, watching the minutes tick by slowly on the large wall clock. Each beep of the hospital machines reminded her how fragile her son’s situation was.

A nurse came in to check her son’s vital signs, moving quietly and efficiently around the bed. She adjusted the IV drip and wrote something on the chart hanging at the foot of the bed, giving Emma a sympathetic smile before leaving. The soft squeak of her rubber–soled shoes. faded down the hallway, leaving Emma alone again with her worried thoughts,

When a soft knock came at the door, Emma looked up to see Richard walking in. Instead of his usual crisp business suit, he wore casual clothes–dark jeans and a navy sweater–that made him look more approachable, more human. His usually neat hair was slightly messy, suggesting he’d rushed over without taking time to fix his appearance. His eyes immediately showed how worried he was as he looked around the hospital room, taking in the medical equipment and Emma’s exhausted face.

Emma, how is he?” Richard asked quietly, matching the hushed atmosphere of the hospital. He moved to stand beside her chair, close enough to offer support but not so close as to crowd her.

Emma looked at her sleeping son before answering, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the thin hospital blanket. “He’s resting. The doctors said his fever is starting to go down.” She

reached out to smooth a wrinkle in the blanket, needing to do something with her nervous hands. “They gave him medicine to help him sleep.”

Richard nodded, looking relieved at this bit of good news. Then his face got serious, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. “Emma, do you have security cameras at your house. where your son was kept?” His tone suggested he was already thinking several steps ahead, planning their next move.

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, her tired brain taking a moment to process the question. “Yes, we do. Why?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to focus Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Coding Richard

on what Richard was saying instead of the worry consuming her thoughts.

“We need to collect evidence,” Richard explained carefully, pulling up another chair to sit beside her. The chair legs scraped softly against the linoleum floor. “If there’s video from the security cameras, we can see exactly what happened to him. This could be really important for taking legal action.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he spoke in a low, determined voice.

Emma nodded, understanding what Richard meant. They needed proof of what had been done to her son–proof that couldn’t be denied or explained away. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she asked, “What should I do?”

“You should stay here with your son. I’ll watch over him,” Richard promised, his eyes sincere. “But I need you to go back to your house. Get the video from the security cameras. Try to get as much as you can even from the past few months if possible. Every little detail could help us build a strong case.” He reached out and squeezed her hand gently, offering comfort and strength.

Emma felt scared about going back to the house where her son had been hurt. The thought made her stomach twist with anxiety, but she knew she had to do it. The truth needed to come out, and she was the only one who could get this evidence. She took a deep breath, drawing strength from Richard’s steady presence.

A sharp ring of his phone cut through the silence like a knife. Martin jumped, his heart racing as he fumbled around on his bedside table, knocking over a glass of water in his confusion. The phone’s bright screen lit up the dark room, making him squint as he tried to focus on the caller ID. His stomach dropped when he saw who was calling at this hour–it was James Chen, one of his oldest friends and most important business partners.

“Hello?” Martin’s voice was rough with sleep as he answered the phone. The moment he heard his friend’s voice on the other end, he knew something was terribly wrong.

“Martin, what have you done?” James’s voice wasn’t just angry; it was filled with a kind of fury Martin had never heard from his usually calm friend. The accusation in those words made Martin’s blood run cold.