Chapter 233 The Queen Picks Up the Blade
Genesis stood motionless in the sterile hospital hallway, blood still crusted on her hands, her dress, her face, like war paint she hadn’t asked for. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, cold and indifferent. Nurses had already come and gone after her flat, hollow explanation to the blood all over her body, thinking she was also injured: “It’s not mine. It’s his.” They’d backed away without another word.
Elena stepped closer, voice soft with worry. “Darling, come have a seat. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Genesis opened her mouth maybe to refuse, maybe to thank her but Veronica’s voice sliced through the air sharply.
“Have a seat?” Veronica laughed, bitter and jagged. “Have you all lost your damn minds? She’s the reason we’re here. She’s the reason he’s in there fighting for his life. My best friend, my only friend is almost dead because of her!”
Revelation stepped towards her instantly. “Veronica, stop….”
“Don’t you fucking tell me to stop!” Veronica rounded on her, tears streaming, voice cracking with rage. “I told him. I told kieran from day one that she would be the death of him. And look! Just look! She pulled the trigger herself!”
Genesis didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even blink. Her eyes stayed fixed on the double doors of the OR, red-rimmed but dry now, the tears having carved clean tracks through the blood on her cheeks. She looked like a statue carved from grief and guilt.
Zarina, still shaken from Cady’s bedside vigil, pushed off the wall. “Enough. Both of you. This isn’t helping him. Fighting out here doesn’t change what’s happening in there.”
Veronica whirled on her. “You don’t get to play peacemaker, Zarina. Not when your wife is lying in a coma because of the same war Knight dragged us all into because of her!”
Damon’s low growl cut through the rising voices. “Shut it. All of you. Now.”
The hallway fell into a tense, trembling silence for exactly three seconds.
Then footsteps, fast, heavy echoed down the corridor.
Charlie burst around the corner, suit jacket askew, eyes wild. “What the hell happened? Where’s Kieran?!”
Veronica’s composure shattered. She rushed into his arms, collapsing against his chest, sobbing openly. “Charlie… she shot him. She actually shot him. He’s in surgery… fighting for his life…”
Charlie’s arms wrapped around her automatically, but his gaze lifted over her head, straight to Genesis.
She didn’t look back. Didn’t acknowledge him. Her stare never left those doors.
Charlie swallowed hard. “Is the doctor out yet? Any word?”
As if summoned, the OR doors swung open.
The lead surgeon stepped through, scrubs sweat-stained, mask pulled down. Everyone surged forward in a single breath.
Genesis moved fastest almost stumbling, eyes wide and desperate for the first time since the hallway vigil began.
The doctor raised both hands. “He’s a fighter. The bullet entered high on the left chest, fractured a rib, nicked the upper lobe of the lung, and lodged in the posterior mediastinum. It missed the heart and major vessels by millimeters. We had massive hemothorax and tension pneumothorax on arrival, that’s what caused the arrest. We decompressed, transfused aggressively, repaired the lung laceration, removed the bullet, and stabilized the mediastinal hematoma. He arrested twice more on the table, but we got him back both times. Right now… he’s stable. Intubated, sedated, on vasopressors, but his vitals are holding. He’s in the ICU. It’s still critical, he’s not out of the woods but he’s alive. And he’s fighting.”
Genesis’s knees buckled.
Damon caught her before she hit the floor, strong arm around her waist. She clutched his sleeve, breath shuddering out in ragged gasps. Relief crashed over her so violently she almost laughed through the tears.
Revelation exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Zarina pressed a hand to her mouth. Elena wiped her eyes.
Veronica and Charlie stepped forward at once, voices overlapping.
“How long until he wakes up?” Veronica demanded.
“What are the chances of complications?” Charlie asked.
The doctor held up a hand. “We’ll know more in the next 24–48 hours. He’s young, strong, no major comorbidities. The next window is infection, ARDS, or re-bleeding. But he made it through the worst part. That’s more than most would.”
Genesis straightened slowly. Wiped her face with the back of her blood-streaked hand. The tears stopped.
She turned to Leonardo, voice quiet but steel-edged.
“Get me Camila.”
Leonardo’s eyes widened for a split second, shock, then understanding. He nodded once. “Yes, boss.”
She shifted her gaze to Damon.
He met it without hesitation.
“It’s time,” she said softly. “We give my stepbrothers a run for their money.”
Damon’s slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
“Yes, boss.”
Genesis looked back at the closed ICU doors.
Closed her eyes.
In her mind, she saw Kieran,bleeding out in her arms, smiling that broken smile, whispering “My princess…”
She opened her eyes again.
This is for you, Knight.
She didn’t say it out loud.
She didn’t need to.
The hallway felt different now.
Not broken.
Sharpened.
The queen had just picked up the crown and the blade.
Camila took a deep breath, her heart thudding against her ribs as she stepped out of the car and stared up at the towering gates of the Blackwood estate. It had been weeks since that night—the chaos, the blood, Knight collapsing right in front of her house while she’d frantically called Leonardo instead of 911. She still didn’t know if she’d made the right choice back then, but here she was again, walking willingly into the lion’s den because Leonardo had asked. Because Genesis had asked.
Leonardo met her at the entrance, his usual cocky grin softened by something gentler. “You good?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Ask me again in an hour.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close for a quick, steadying kiss. “You’ve got this. She just needs someone outside this world to listen.”
Camila nodded, letting him lead her inside. The estate felt different today—quieter, heavier, like the house itself was holding its breath.
They entered the same sitting room where everything had gone to hell the last time. Genesis was already there, seated on the edge of a leather armchair, still wearing the same haunted look she’d had in the hospital hallway. Damon stood behind her like a shadow, Marco and Leon flanking the doors. A handful of other men—silent, watchful—filled the corners of the room.
Genesis looked up as Camila entered. The exhaustion in her eyes was bone-deep, but there was steel underneath it now.
“Thank you for coming,” Genesis said quietly, gesturing to the seat across from her.
Camila sat, notepad already in hand out of pure reflex. “I’m glad you called. Leonardo filled me in… a little. I’m so sorry about Kieran. About everything.”
Genesis gave a small, tired nod. “He’s stable. That’s what matters right now.” She paused, swallowing. “But I didn’t ask you here to talk about him. I need your help with something else.”
Camila leaned forward. “Anything. What do you need?”
Genesis met her gaze directly. “You’re still a reporter, right? Investigations?”
Camila nodded slowly. “Yeah. Mostly local corruption, abuse cases, power imbalances. Why?”
Genesis exhaled. “My stepmother, Monica Caldwell. She’s about to be arrested. The FBI has her in their crosshairs—conspiracy, child endangerment, accessory after the fact to repeated sexual assault of a minor. Multiple counts. The warrant’s imminent, maybe tonight or tomorrow.”
Camila’s pen hovered. “Jesus. On what evidence?”
“Tapes,” Genesis said flatly and then told her everything.
Camila’s hand trembled slightly as she wrote. She looked up, voice soft. “Genesis… I’m so sorry. That’s… I don’t even have words.”
Genesis’s expression didn’t crack. “Don’t be sorry. Be useful. The FBI got the tapes anonymously same way they got the rest of the evidence. They’ve authenticated everything: dates, handwriting, payments. Monica’s been interviewed, denied it all. Said it was ‘behavioral therapy.’ But they’re moving to arrest her. The problem is timing. She’s lawyered up, stalling. And my stepbrothers, Mark and Jimmy, they were teenagers back then. The evidence doesn’t touch them directly. No charges. Yet.”
Camila nodded, mind already racing through angles. “You want this out before or after the arrest?”
“Before,” Genesis said without hesitation. “The second the warrant drops, her team will spin it—‘false allegations,’ ‘witch hunt,’ ‘grieving stepdaughter lashing out.’ I want the public to see the truth first. I want outrage. Pressure. I want every other victim who might have buried this to feel safe coming forward. And when Monica’s behind bars… I go after Mark and Jimmy. Hard. They hurt me too. Beat me. Humiliated me. Laughed while Monica looked the other way. They don’t get to walk away clean.”
Camila set her pen down for a second, rubbing her temples. This was nuclear. “Okay. Let’s be realistic. I can run this but we have to do it clean. My outlet has strict legal review. If I publish pre-arrest, we risk contempt, jury taint, defamation countersuit. Monica’s lawyers will come for blood. Truth is a defense, but they’ll drag it out for years.”
Genesis tilted her head. “So what do we do?”
“We frame it carefully,” Camila said. “Headline: ‘Leaked Evidence Points to Decades-Old Child Abuse Network at Prestigious NYC Hospital—Prominent Socialite Implicated in Enabling Scheme.’ Lead with the systemic failure: respected doctor abusing patients for years, enabled by payments from guardians. Describe the tapes in general terms, no graphic details, no victim names beyond ‘Patient G.C.’ and anonymized logs. Quote Reeves’s own notes: ‘memory fog protocol,’ payments, guardian requests for sedation. Mention the FBI investigation without confirming sources. Say the outlet received the material from an anonymous whistleblower concerned about delays in justice. End with a call for other survivors to contact authorities or tip lines. We drop it online tonight, prime time push, social amplification. By morning, it’s everywhere.”
Genesis’s lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile. “And when Monica’s arrested?”
Camila exhaled. “The story updates instantly. We name her. We link the payments. We let the outrage do the rest. Prosecutors hate public pressure, they move faster. Mark and Jimmy? If more victims surface, or if Monica flips to save herself… they’re next. But we start with her. She’s the key.”
Genesis studied her for a long moment. “You’ll do it?”
Camila met her eyes. “Yes. But I need everything you can give me, copies of the logs, payment records, anything non-classified that the FBI’s already seen. I’ll run it through our legal team first. No names, no identifying details on you beyond what’s already public from the inheritance story. We protect survivors first.”
Genesis nodded once. “You’ll have it within the hour.”
Camila stood, notepad clutched tight. “This is going to explode, Genesis. You ready for that?”
Genesis looked toward the window, where the city lights glittered like distant knives.
“I’ve been ready for fifteen years.”
Camila gave a small, fierce nod. “Then let’s burn it all down.”
As she turned to leave with Leonardo, Genesis’s voice stopped her.
“Camila.”
She looked back.
Genesis’s eyes were steady now, clear, cold, unbreakable.
“Thank you”
Camila swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re not alone in this.”
The door closed behind her.
In the silence that followed, Genesis turned to Damon.
“Make sure she’s protected. No leaks. No mistakes.”
Damon inclined his head. “Yes, boss.”
Genesis just stared ahead, her eyes hollow.