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He Return of the Discarded Heiress Novel Cover

He Return of the Discarded Heiress

For three years, I wasn't a foster child. I was a living, breathing cure. Hidden away in the attic of the Thomas mansion, my sole purpose was to keep their precious daughter alive. Every week, they drained my blood to treat her rare disease, leaving me anemic, scarred, and invisible. I was the "walking blood bag" from the wrong side of the tracks-a stray they'd reluctantly taken in. The day Katharina was finally cured, I overheard the truth. "That walking blood bag has served her purpose," the grandmother hissed. "We are done with her." They threw me out into a freezing rainstorm, tossing a crumpled check at my feet like a tip for a beggar. Payment, they said, for the years I'd "leeched" off their family. Payment for the six thousand milliliters of blood they'd stolen, for the chronic anemia, for the scars. I shredded their charity in front of their faces and walked into the storm. They laughed, screaming that I'd be back, that I'd be begging on the streets by morning. But as I stood alone on that dark road, my world shifted. A sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up in silence. The door opened, and my real family stepped out. I wasn't a stray from the slums. I was their lost heiress. And the Thomases are about to learn that the girl they bled dry is now the one holding all the power.
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Chapter 7

Ainsley let out a sharp, cold laugh that echoed off the marble walls of the lobby.

She locked her eyes onto Katharina's fake, pitying face.

"Did you leave your brain at home?" Ainsley sneered.

Katharina's face instantly drained of all color.

Tears immediately flooded her eyes. She grabbed Kade's arm, looking up at him like a wounded animal.

Kade's chest puffed out. He stepped forward to defend his girlfriend's honor. "You're disgusting, Ainsley! Screaming like a trashy lunatic in a place like this!"

Preston felt his authority crumbling in front of the elite crowd.

He throwing his large hand out to violently grab Ainsley's slender wrist and drag her out the door.

Before Preston's rough fingers could even graze Ainsley's skin, a massive hand clamped down on his forearm like a steel vice.

Hill Frazier stepped out from behind Ainsley.

The murderous intent radiating from Hill's black eyes was so heavy it made the air in the lobby hard to breathe.

Hill didn't say a word. He just twisted his wrist.

A sickening, loud crack echoed through the lobby as Preston's wrist bone snapped.

Preston's face contorted in absolute agony. Cold sweat instantly exploded across his forehead.

But when Preston looked up and met Hill's dead eyes, the scream of pain died instantly in his throat. Pure terror choked him.

Hill threw Preston's broken arm away like he was discarding a piece of rotting garbage.

Hill reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a dark blue silk handkerchief. He slowly, methodically wiped his fingers, as if Preston's skin had infected him.

He didn't even look at the Thomas family.

Hill simply turned his head and wrapped his large, warm arm securely around Ainsley's narrow waist. He pulled her flush against his side.

Ainsley's spine stiffened at the sudden contact.

But to completely humiliate the Thomas family, she didn't push him away. She actually leaned her weight into his chest.

Watching Ainsley press against this terrifying, god-like man felt like a knife twisting directly into Kade's ego.

The general manager sprinted across the lobby, his face pale with panic.

When he saw Hill's face, the manager's knees actually buckled. He stopped and bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

Hill dropped the soiled silk handkerchief directly onto the floor at Preston's feet.

"Has the standard of this club dropped so low that you just let unwashed trash walk through the front door?" Hill's voice was a freezing whisper.

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