Her Icy Comeback: A Vengeful Heiress
Five years ago, my guardian, Fitzgerald Kirk, sent me a video of my childhood horse being led to a slaughterhouse. Then he cast me out, broken and penniless.
Tonight, I returned to his family' s annual gala, no longer a helpless ward but a powerful woman ready for my revenge.
But he and his fiancée, Cassondra, still saw me as the trash they threw away.
She taunted me, asking if I' d run out of money, before "tripping" and drenching my white silk gown in red wine.
She looked at me with glee, expecting the broken girl from five years ago to cry.
Fitzgerald just watched, a bored smirk on his face as he told me to crawl back to whatever gutter I came from.
They wanted a reaction. They wanted the hysterical girl they had destroyed.
They had no idea that the memory of my horse' s death had frozen everything inside me, fueling a cold rage that had simmered for half a decade.
I didn' t even glance at the stain. Instead, I calmly picked up a full bottle of champagne from a passing waiter' s tray.
"Don' t worry," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "Accidents happen."
Then I swung the bottle and smashed it against her head.
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Chapter 2
Blair Phillips POV:
The ballroom descended into a cacophony of screams and frantic calls for security. The air, once filled with polite chatter and the clinking of glasses, was now thick with panic.
"What is going on?"
"Is that… isn' t that Blair Phillips? The one Fitzgerald kicked out five years ago?"
"My God, she' s completely unhinged."
The whispers swirled around me like vultures circling a kill. They were right. I was unhinged. Fitzgerald had unhinged me.
"I heard he sent her a video… of her horse…"
"He what? That' s monstrous."
"Shh! The Kirks will hear you. Still, to come back like this… she must be desperate."
I ignored them all, my focus pinned on Fitzgerald. He was looking at his bleeding hand, but he wasn' t wincing in pain. A slow, strange smile was spreading across his face. It was the smile of a predator who had just been reminded how much it enjoyed the hunt. The sight of it sent a shiver of pure hatred through me.
Cassondra, still on the floor, scrambled to his side, ignoring her own injury. "Fitz, are you okay? That bitch… she hurt you!"
She glared up at me, her face a mask of fury and tears. "How dare you? After everything the Kirks did for you, you ungrateful orphan! You should be on your knees thanking him, not attacking him!"
I let out a short, humorless laugh. "On my knees? Is that what he' s teaching you now, Cassondra? To be a good little pet?"
I glanced from her tear-streaked face to Fitzgerald' s dark, possessive gaze. "He' s certainly trained you well. You' ve mastered the 'loyal dog' act perfectly."
Fitzgerald stepped in front of her, shielding her from my view. The gesture was so familiar it made my stomach churn. He always did that, protecting his latest toy while trying to break his old one.
"Our relationship is over, Blair," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You were cast out. You have no right to be here, and you certainly have no right to touch her."
"I have every right," I spat back.
He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. "The only person I love is Cassondra," he said, the words a deliberate jab. I knew he didn't love her. Fitzgerald was incapable of love. He was only capable of obsession and possession. "How did a piece of trash like you even get in here? Crawl back to whatever gutter you came from. You will never be a part of this family again."
He looked down his nose at me, the picture of aristocratic disdain. The same look he' d given me the day he' d thrown me out with nothing but the clothes on my back.
"And you will pay for what you did to Cassondra' s face," he hissed. "I' ll make sure of it."
Security was finally pushing through the crowd. Fitzgerald gestured to them, a casual flick of his wrist. One of the guards, a burly man I didn' t recognize, approached me cautiously. Fitzgerald then did something that made my blood run cold. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small, ornate fruit knife from his dinner setting, and held it out to the guard.
"Give her a weapon," Fitzgerald commanded, his smile widening into a terrifying grin. "Let' s make it a fair fight. I want to see her break."
I just laughed. The sound was harsh and broken, echoing in the suddenly silent ballroom. "You think you can break me, Fitz? You' ve been trying for years. All you did was make me stronger."
The guard hesitated, looking from Fitzgerald' s crazed eyes to my determined ones. I didn' t wait for him. I snatched the knife from Fitzgerald's hand, its cold, solid weight a comfort.
I pointed the tip of the knife at his heart.
"You' re pathetic," I whispered, my voice shaking with a rage that had been simmering for five years. "You think this is a game? You think you still have power over me?"
My laughter grew louder, wilder. "You don' t get it, do you? I didn' t come back to play. I came back to burn your entire world to the ground."
The memory of Comet' s final moments flashed through my mind. The terrified whinny, the cold, industrial sound of the bolt gun. The image of me, on my knees in the mud, begging Fitzgerald to spare him. He had just laughed, that same cruel smile on his face. He had called me pathetic then, too.
"You' re going to regret this, Fitz," I said, my voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "I swear on Comet' s grave, one day, you will kneel before me and beg for the mercy you never showed him. And I will laugh, just like you did."
The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a thunderous scowl. He knew I meant it. He knew the game was over.
"And you," I said, turning my gaze to Cassondra, who was cowering behind him, "will be right there beside him."
My wild laughter echoed through the hall as security finally surrounded me. But they were too late. The first shot in my war had already been fired.