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Broken Doll's Revenge: The Heiress's Sting Novel Cover

Broken Doll's Revenge: The Heiress's Sting

I was Grayson Warren’s "broken doll," a disgraced socialite kept on a short leash to pay off my family’s debts. To the world, I was a fragile liability; to Grayson, I was a pet he could humiliate for sport, forcing me to play the role of a mentally unstable girl while I secretly gathered evidence against his empire. The cruelty peaked when Grayson forced me to break three years of sobriety in front of his investors, mocking my struggle before making me kneel on a golf course to scrub his shoes. He treated my life like a game, literally betting my sanity against a corporate board seat while he soft-launched a new relationship with a high-profile PR queen. When the pressure triggered a massive panic attack, Grayson abandoned me in a private clinic just so he wouldn't miss a dinner reservation. Even my own mother turned against me, threatening to leak my psychiatric records and brand me a "violent delusional" if I didn't beg for Grayson’s forgiveness. I was trapped between a man who owned my debt and a mother who valued her estate over my daughter’s life. I realized then that they would never let me go; they would only break me until there was nothing left. They thought they had erased my soul, but they forgot I was the only witness to the night my true love, Felix, was murdered. I was done being the victim. I faked a suicide jump off the Queensboro Bridge to go off the grid, then crashed Grayson’s elite gala in a dress that signaled his downfall. Just as Grayson tried to physically crush me one last time, the room went silent. Felix Law, the man the world thought was dead for three years, walked out of the shadows with a federal warrant in his hand. "Take your hands off her, Warren." The game didn't just change; it ended. Felix was back from the dead, and this time, we were burning the empire to the ground together.
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Chapter 7

The apartment was dark, lit only by the blue glow of the laptop screen.

Sloane had gone to her night shift at the bar. Anna was alone.

She sat at the small desk, a USB drive plugged into the side of her computer. It was an encrypted drive she had stolen from her father's safe three years ago, just before they committed her.

A password prompt blinked on the screen.

Anna typed: Goya1799-PbCrO4. The inventory number for Goya's 'The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters,' followed by the chemical formula for chrome yellow, the pigment Felix had taught her was notoriously unstable. A password only they would know.

The folder opened.

Rows of spreadsheets filled the screen. Cayman accounts. Shell companies. Payoffs to judges. It was the anatomy of the Briggs family corruption, interwoven with Warren Capital's money laundering.

But Anna didn't look at the numbers. She clicked on a file named IMG_0045.jpg.

A photo opened.

It was Felix. He was standing on the roof of their old building, the sunset behind him turning the sky purple. He was laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked so alive.

Anna reached out and touched the screen. Her finger traced the line of his jaw.

"I miss you," she whispered. The tears came then, hot and fast. They dripped onto her hands.

Grayson looked a little like him. That was the sick joke of it all. She had let Grayson touch her because, in the dark, if she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was Felix.

But she never loved Grayson. She hated him. She hated him for being alive when Felix was dead.

"It's almost over," she told the photo. "I'm going to burn them down. All of them."

Her phone rang.

She jumped. She looked at the screen.

Mother.

Victoria Briggs.

Anna wiped her face with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath. She pressed answer.

"Hello, Mother."

"Grayson called me," Victoria said. Her voice was sharp, like breaking glass. "He said you struck him. Have you lost your mind?"

"He tried to force himself on me," Anna said.

"So?" Victoria snapped. "He is Grayson Warren! Do you know how much debt this family is in? Do you know what he pays simply to keep your father's legal bills quiet?"

"I don't care about the money," Anna said.

"You selfish little brat," Victoria hissed. "If you don't go to his penthouse right now, get on your knees, and beg for his forgiveness, I will cut you off. Completely."

"You already did that," Anna said. "Three years ago. When you let Dad sign those papers."

"I did what I had to do to save this family's reputation!" Victoria screamed. Then her voice dropped, becoming cold and venomous. "Listen to me, Anna. If you leave him, I will release your medical records. The ones from the asylum. The ones that say you are paranoid, delusional, and violent."

Anna's hand gripped the edge of the desk. Her knuckles turned white.

"You wouldn't," she whispered.

"I would," Victoria said. "You'll never get a job. You'll never be believed. You'll be the crazy ex-girlfriend who tried to kill herself. Grayson will make sure of it, and I will help him."

It was a death sentence. In New York, a reputation like that was worse than prison.

Anna felt the old fear trying to claw its way up her throat. But she looked at the photo of Felix.

Pain is just data.

"Do it," Anna said.

"What?" Victoria sounded confused.

"Release them," Anna said. "But you better do it fast. Because I have files too, Mother. And mine aren't forged."

She hung up.

She pulled the SIM card out of the phone and snapped it in half.

She sat there, breathing hard. The silence of the room felt heavy.

She turned back to the computer. She needed the final piece. The link between Jaylene Horne and the offshore accounts. It wasn't on the drive. It would be on the local server at the Warren Estate.

She had to go to the gala.

She had to walk into the lion's den.

Suddenly, the laptop screen flickered.

The file explorer window minimized. A text document opened itself in the center of the screen.

Anna froze. She hadn't touched the keyboard.

Letters began to appear, typed by an invisible hand.

I'm watching. - F

Anna stared at the letter F.

Her heart stopped. Then it started again, beating so hard it hurt.

F.

Felix?

No. It couldn't be. He died. She saw the car go into the water. She saw the police report.

It had to be a hacker. Someone messing with her.

Or...

She touched the screen again.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

The cursor blinked. No more words appeared.

But the message remained. I'm watching.

She wasn't alone.

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