My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 288: Storm Clouds

The weekend had passed smoothly for everyone—laughter filled the hospital halls, new hopes bloomed, and Cammy’s recovery marked a quiet triumph.

But in a lavish mansion far from the warmth of celebration, storm clouds gathered.

Duncan Veston slammed the crystal glass down on the counter, the scotch inside rippling with rage.

"For the last damn time, Annie—no, we are not getting married next week. I’ve told you already. After the baby is born!"

Annie Tucker, standing in her silk robe with her hands protectively over her 32-week bump, flinched at the sharpness in his voice.

"I’m not asking for a runway wedding, Duncan," she snapped. "Just a contract signing day. Some sense of commitment. We can have the ceremony and reception later on. You promised—"

"I am committed! You’re carrying my child, aren’t you?" Duncan shot back. "What more do you want—blood?"

"I want respect!" Annie’s voice cracked as she fought back tears. "I’ve stuck by you through the whole Cammy ordeal. I lied to the press for you. I humiliated myself in front of your ex-wife and her new husband. And now I’m the one who looks like the desperate little homewrecker!"

"Oh, spare me the melodrama." Duncan sneered, pouring himself another drink. "You’re not some martyr. You knew what this was. You wanted luxury, the name, the power—I gave you all of that."

Annie’s eyes flashed. "And what did you get? A puppet to parade in front of society while you sulked over Cammy?"

Duncan’s silence was thunderous.

Annie stepped back like she’d been slapped. Her breath hitched, her hand reflexively cradling her belly.

"I see it now," she whispered. "You were never going to marry me, were you?"

He scratched his head exasperatedly. "Damnit, Annie! I will marry you! Do I have a choice? You and your father started this whole shebang, and now my life and family are ruined because of you and your father!

Again, I will marry you! So we can drag each other to Hell! I’m already miserable with or without you. But I will not let our baby suffer like me, like Dylan. That’s the only thing you can count on. You have my word!"

She laughed bitterly, wiping at the tears that slipped free. "Fine. You want to wait? We’ll wait. But you better mean it, Duncan. Because if you back out of this—if you humiliate me one more time—I swear, I will burn every bridge you have left."

"Don’t be stupid, Annie," Duncan muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. "Of course, we’ll get married. I already said you can plan it however you want. Just... wait a few weeks. That belly of yours would barely fit in a designer gown anyway."

Annie stood in stunned silence, staring at the man she once thought would be her fairytale.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You disgust me."

Then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the heavy silence of the penthouse returning like a shadow.

As the door slammed behind her, Duncan tossed the untouched glass onto the floor, watching it shatter into pieces.

And for the first time, he realized—he was the one left alone in the wreckage he created.

He took another glass and poured himself some brandy, the amber liquid swirling like the chaos in his mind. He was about to take a slow, calming sip when his phone rang sharply, shattering the silence.

With a grimace, he glanced at the screen. His secretary.

He answered it coldly, without a greeting.

"I’m not going to work today. I’ll be back tomorrow. Reschedule all my meetings."

There was a pause on the other end before her frantic voice cut in: [But Sir, we have a problem—there’s—]

Duncan never let her finish.

"Deal with it. Or wait until tomorrow." He ended the call with a jab of his finger and tossed the phone aside.

But then—a commotion.

Raised voices echoed down the hall, the unmistakable sound of arguing and heavy boots on marble. Duncan’s brow furrowed. He could hear Annie’s shrill protests, the butler’s panicked tone, the maids’ nervous pleas—all trying to stop someone... or some people from entering the mansion.

He stormed toward the living room with slow, menacing steps. "What the hell is going on now—"

And then he saw it.

Uniforms.

Badges.

Guns.

Several police officers had already pushed past the entryway, their path partially blocked by Annie, who was screaming, "You can’t just barge in here! He’s not going anywhere without a warrant!"

His staff was in chaos, some pleading, others frozen in place. Then one of the officers spotted Duncan and immediately approached.

"Mr. Duncan Veston?" the officer asked, though his tone left no room for denial.

Without waiting for a response, he unfolded a document and shoved it into Duncan’s face.

"This is a warrant for your arrest, issued by Judge Keagan under the authority of the state. You are being charged with fraud, tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, conspiracy to falsify psychological records, and abuse of conservatorship-"

Duncan’s jaw dropped as the words hit him like bricks, and he didn’t let the officer finish. "I was allowed bail for that! So what the hell is this?!"

"I am not done, so listen," the officer uttered calmly. "You are being charged with fraud, tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, conspiracy to falsify psychological records, abuse of conservatorship, domestic abuse, and the death of two men working in the port who were involved in the shipping scandal a few months ago. Does it ring a bell?" the police officer said sarcastically.

Before he could utter a single word, another officer stepped behind him and snapped cold handcuffs around his wrists with practiced ease.

"You’re making a mistake," Duncan hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at Annie, who had fallen completely silent in shock. Her face was pale, her hands trembling as she stared at him, no longer in power, no longer untouchable.

"I have lawyers! Powerful ones!" Duncan shouted as the officers began escorting him toward the door. "You can’t do this to me—I built half this city with the tax I am paying!"

But the officers didn’t flinch.

One of the female officers couldn’t hold her anger anymore. She’s just one of the people who had seen the trial a few days ago and replied, "And now you’ll see what it’s like to lose it all, womanizing douchebag!"

Everyone heard her comment, and all the officers laughed, humiliating Duncan in his own home in front of his staff.

As the front door slammed behind him and flashing red-and-blue lights painted the marble halls, Duncan Veston—once untouchable, once arrogant—was finally brought down.

And this time, there would be no brandy to save him.

Annie stood frozen for a moment, her mouth agape, eyes wide with disbelief as she watched Duncan being dragged out of their home in cuffs.

"No! Duncan!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.

Without thinking, Annie bolted out of the mansion barefoot, her silk robe flapping behind her like a tattered flag of surrender. "Wait! You can’t take him—Duncan!"

The officers had already shoved Duncan into the backseat of the cruiser, but Annie didn’t stop. She sprinted across the cemented driveway, heedless of the heat biting into her feet, her hair wild in the morning wind.

"DUNCAN!" she shrieked, slamming both palms against the tinted rear window of the police car just as it started to pull away.

Behind her, the butler and two maids had come rushing after her, calling out to her in panic. "Miss Annie! Please, come back! You’ll hurt yourself!"

But Annie couldn’t hear them.

Tears streamed down her face as she chased the car halfway down the driveway, sobbing incoherently. Then—it hit her.

A sharp, tearing pain sliced across her lower abdomen, stealing the breath right out of her lungs.

She gasped and staggered to a stop, both hands flying to her belly. "W-What...?"

And then, she heard it—a gush.

Her robe clung to her legs, soaked through in seconds. Her knees buckled. She looked down in horror and saw the puddle spreading beneath her feet.

"Oh no..." she whispered. "No, no, no... not now—"

The butler caught her just before she collapsed to the ground.

"Her water broke! She’s in labor!" one of the maids screamed. "Call an ambulance!"

Annie clutched at her stomach, her eyes filled with tears—not just from the pain, but from the cruel irony of it all.

The father of her child was speeding away in a police cruiser...

And now, she was about to give birth alone.

Annie’s body trembled as another wave of pain surged through her, twisting her insides and forcing a raw scream from her throat.

"Not the ambulance!" she cried, her voice shrill, desperate. "It’ll take too long to get here, you idiots! Just call the damn driver! Get the car—NOW!"

The butler fumbled for his phone with shaking hands while one of the maids was already sprinting toward the garage, shouting for the driver at the top of her lungs.