Before Her Heart Was Taken

Tiffany shot to her feet.

"Tiffany, my daughter! I finally found you!"

A plump woman burst in, tears streaming.

Behind her came a crowd—six or seven strangers, all crying, yelling her name, reaching for her.

"These are your birth parents, your two brothers, your aunt and uncle," Charlotte said sweetly. "Twenty years apart and now a tearful reunion. Oh, and they all know you're the Coxon heiress."

Her laugh dripped poison.

Tiffany stood frozen.

Matilda, the woman who gave birth to her, clung on tight, breathing hard, shrieking in her ear.

"Tiffany, we were wrong to leave you. But we had our reasons. Please forgive us—we're your real parents!"

"Get off me! Back off! Don't touch me! Don't you dare!" Tiffany's voice cracked. "I'm not your daughter! I don't know any of you!"

Her whole body shook.

She screamed, tried to shove them off, but they had her surrounded.

"You're living it up as an heiress while we're broke in the sticks! Your uncle's factory crashed—he's drowning in debt!"

"Your brothers are still single. You've got cash—at least buy them a house, a car, cover their weddings!"

"We're family. Don't turn your back. We finally found you—it's time to come home and honor your roots."

They cried. Begged. Yelled.

Mouths wide. Eyes greedy.

Tiffany screamed inside, 'No. Don't touch me!'

When her two disgusting, rough brothers reached for a hug, something in her snapped.

"Get away from me! Die! All of you—just die!"

Her vision blurred.

She went wild—biting, clawing, swinging chairs, smashing bottles. The air stank of blood.

Chaos exploded.

Screams. Curses. Crying.

Only Charlotte stood still, leaning on the balcony rail, laughing without a sound.

Her eyes locked on the love bites on Tiffany's neck. Her nails dug into her own palms.

'Tiffany, this time... I'll make sure there's nothing left of you.'

She closed her eyes.

As the crowd surged forward, Charlotte jumped.

"Charlotte!"

Hector had just pulled up. His scream tore through the noise.

He bolted over, shaking, scooping her up. "Charlotte, no—don't do this—stay with me. Please!"

"...Hector... don't... don't blame Tiffany..."

Her voice faded. Her eyes shut.

The ambulance roared in, then sped off.

***

The sky went pitch black. Rain came down in sheets.

Tiffany knelt at the mansion gates, wrists tied, waiting for her sentence.

"You should be grateful Charlotte lived."

Hector strolled down the stairs, umbrella in one hand.

He tipped her chin up with his cane, eyes burning. "But her legs are busted. How do you plan to fix that?"

Tiffany shut her eyes.

Stubborn was in her blood—but too many years under someone else's roof had taught her when to lower her head.

This time, begging wasn't gonna save her.

She was done begging.

"Fine. Have it your way." His voice dropped cold. "Since you won't talk, I'll choose. I want your legs."

The cane came down—fast, brutal.

"Ahhh!"

Her scream tore through the rain.

And it was only the start.