Chapter 3

The tablet screen glowed, and the top trending topic burned into my eyes like a slap. [The Quinn Heir: Bitten by the Mastiff After Pricking It With a Needle.]

I tapped in, and the first thing I saw was a screenshot from the club's security camera at the entrance.

The footage was clipped perfectly, freezing on the exact second my son was backing away, making it look like he was about to mess with the dog.

The comments section was already exploding with hate.

[Bullying animals when he was a kid? Rich families never know how to raise their kids right.]

[If the kid's already this wild, imagine how bad the parents are.]

[I heard Mrs. Quinn's family has been down and out for years. No wonder her kid turned out like this.]

Some people dug up old photos of me from events I'd attended before.

They snarked that I only married into the Quinn family for status, trying to get ahead.

Now that all this drama was happening, they said I was afraid I'd lose my spot in the family.

I kept swiping down, my fingers turning numb from the cold.

Before long, the Quinn Corporation's PR department released an official statement.

According to them, my son was being a little mischievous and startled the family pet.

Richard, supposedly disciplining him, accidentally knocked him over, leaving him with nothing but a minor scratch.

As for me, they claimed I got overly emotional during a family dispute and somehow managed to twist my own arm in the heat of the moment.

Every word was a not-so-subtle hint that I was the one who blew things out of proportion.

There was not one word about Richard kicking my son across the room.

There was not a single mention of my son getting rushed into surgery for a cracked skull.

And there was not a word about how Richard shattered my arm with a dog training stick.

I set the tablet down and looked up at my assistant. "Where's the original security footage?"

My assistant's face was grim. "I sent someone to retrieve it, but the pet club said their server crashed last night. All the footage is gone."

"Did you secure the hospital's injury records?" I asked.

"We're already on it, but someone tried to use their connections to get the medical files. Luckily, we got there first," my assistant replied.

I nodded.

Just then, my phone pinged. It was a voice message from Anna.

I tapped to play it.

Her voice was soft, with a little pout lingering at the end. "Charlotte, your son really freaked out my dog, and now Richard doesn't know what to do.

"Can you let it go? If this gets any bigger, it won't be good for your son, either. We all want to keep this quiet."

I listened to her message and deleted it without replying.

Keeping this quiet? Her precious dog got spooked, and that meant my son deserved a trip to the ICU?

My arm was broken, and I was supposed to keep my mouth shut and pretend nothing happened?

I sat on the bench in the hallway, watching the ICU lights still shining.

The stark white glow made everything feel cold and sterile.

My right arm was strapped across my chest, the anesthesia was wearing off, and the pain in my bones started pulsing in waves. But that pain kept me sharp.

The Quinn family only dared to treat me like this because they figured I'd been backed into a corner, with no way out.

After my father died, the Goodwin family's business came under attack from all sides.

My brother, William, had been stationed in Northwave for years, serving in the military, so he couldn't get involved directly in most things.

Everyone assumed the Goodwin family was nothing but an empty shell, and that I married into the Quinn family to find a safety net.

That was why Richard felt free to look down on me, why his mother could dangle kids and shares as leverage, and why Anna could play the victim while my son was bleeding out.

They all figured that if I left the Quinn family, I'd be nobody.

But there was one thing they overlooked.

What truly made the Goodwin family powerful was never the business everyone saw.

As I was lost in thought, a nurse from the operating room hurried over and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "Ms. Goodwin, someone came by to check your son's medical records and tried to delete a few injury reports.

"Our hospital director stopped them, but you'd better apply for judicial preservation as soon as possible."

I looked at her. "Any idea who it was?"

The nurse shook her head. "They didn't leave a name, but said they were from Quinn Corporation's legal department."

I smiled.

My son wasn't awake yet, and they were already trying to destroy the evidence.

My assistant leaned in and whispered, "Ms. Goodwin, should we send a lawyer's letter first?"

I said, getting to my feet, "No rush.

"First, make sure we lock down every piece of evidence. Hospital surveillance, admission records, surgery reports, and entrance cameras at the estate. Whatever we can preserve, do it. Don't let anything slip.

"And for the club, I don't care if you have to pay them off or call in favors, I want the entire footage."

My assistant nodded. "Understood."

I added, "And check into that fund."

"Which one?" my assistant asked.

"Found out which company's account was used for the payment for the dog's diamond collar," I said.

My assistant blinked, then got it. "Understood. I'll look into it right away."

Once I'd finished giving orders, I took my seat on the bench again.

Dawn was breaking outside the window at the end of the hallway.

But there was no relief in me. I knew this was only the beginning.

By the afternoon, Richard finally showed up at the hospital.

He didn't bring any bodyguards or that dog, only a bouquet of flowers and a box of health supplements, like he was visiting another family member who happened to be ill.

I was sitting outside the hospital room, and didn't lift my head.

He stood right in front of me, stayed quiet for a few seconds, then spoke with that usual pressure in his voice. "Charlotte, don't you think bringing in people from the military district was a bit over the top?"

I finally looked up at him. "You broke my arm and kicked your own son so hard he had to have emergency brain surgery. Wasn't that over the top?"

Richard's brows knitted. "I lost my temper."

"So what?" I shot back.

He sounded like he was making excuses, but also blaming me. "You know Anna's not well, and that dog means everything to her.

"She was in a car accident before, and that dog dragged her out of the wreck. Your son scared it, and she had a relapse. I honestly didn't know what to do."

I stared at the face that once made me go soft, but right now, it felt like I was looking at a stranger for the first time.

"So in your eyes, my son's life is worth less than her dog, is that it?" I asked.

Richard instinctively wanted to deny it, but he opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Because the answer was obvious.

I looked away. "Get out."

His expression turned icy. "Do you have to talk to me like this?"

"Get the hell out," I snapped.

Richard stared at me for a few seconds, anger simmering beneath the surface. "We'll talk when you've calmed down."

He turned and walked away.

I watched his back as he walked away, my hand slowly clenching into a fist. There was nothing left worth talking about.