Reborn And Pampered: The Genius Heiress Returns

The heavy wrought-iron gates of the Fitzpatrick estate groaned as Leland pushed them open. The metal hinges scraped together, a harsh sound that grated against the eardrums.

Leland did not look back. He simply jerked his chin, signaling for the seven-year-old girl to follow.

Cordelia stepped forward. Her faded, oversized T-shirt hung loosely on her thin frame. Her worn-out sneakers hit the pristine, mirror-like marble driveway, leaving a faint smudge of gray dust with every step.

Leland glanced down at the dirt. His nose wrinkled. The muscles in his jaw tightened in obvious disgust. He quickened his pace, deliberately putting three steps of distance between his polished Italian leather shoes and her dirty sneakers.

Cordelia did not care. She tilted her head back, her eyes scanning the massive Gothic architecture of the main house. Her pulse was steady. Her stomach did not flutter with the nervous anticipation of a child coming home.

Her eyes were dead pools of still water.

They walked through the manicured rose garden. A stray thorn caught the frayed hem of Cordelia's shirt.

She did not stop. She did not ask for help. She simply grabbed the fabric and yanked it in the opposite direction. The thread snapped. The movement was sharp, efficient, and entirely devoid of childish helplessness.

Leland pushed open the double mahogany doors of the main house.

A blast of freezing air conditioning hit Cordelia's face. It smelled of expensive floral perfume and chemical floor wax. The sudden cold made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. Goosebumps erupted across her skin.

Inside the grand foyer, a maid named Maureen was wiping down an antique vase. Maureen turned her head. Maureen, who had served Antoinette loyally for a decade and adored Hallie, saw the newcomer not as a child, but as a threat to the household's peace. Her eyes swept over Cordelia's yellowed hair and cheap clothes. The corners of Maureen's mouth immediately pulled down into a sneer.

Maureen shifted her weight. She casually kicked her mop bucket half an inch to the right, placing it directly in Cordelia's path.

Cordelia kept her eyes on the floor. She did not break her stride. At the exact last second, her right foot shifted a fraction of an inch. She glided past the bucket without brushing the plastic.

Maureen blinked, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp of surprise.

Leland stopped at the edge of the cavernous living room. He cleared his throat loudly, trying to get the attention of the person sitting on the floor.

Hallie sat on a massive Persian rug, surrounded by the pieces of a thousand-piece puzzle. She wore a custom-made silk princess dress. At the sound of Leland's throat clearing, Hallie jerked her head up. Her face twisted with annoyance.

Then, Hallie saw Cordelia.

Hallie's eyes locked onto the dirt on Cordelia's shoes and the malnutrition in her cheeks. The skin around Hallie's eyes tightened. A violent surge of jealousy and pure hatred flashed across her face.

Hallie scrambled to her feet. Her elbow slammed into the glass coffee table.

A freshly brewed cup of hot coffee tipped over. The dark brown liquid spilled across the polished glass, dripping onto the expensive rug.

Hallie did not care about the burning liquid splashing her fingers. She lunged forward and grabbed the heavy ceramic mug by its handle.

"Get out of my house!" Hallie screamed. Her vocal cords strained, the sound piercing the quiet room.

Hallie swung her arm back and hurled the heavy ceramic cup straight at Cordelia's head.

The cup spun through the air in a deadly arc.

Leland gasped. His hands flew up, but he was three steps away. He had deliberately kept his distance to avoid Cordelia's dirt. He could not reach her in time.

Cordelia's pupils shrank.

A memory ripped through her brain like a lightning bolt. In her past life, that exact cup had smashed into her forehead. She remembered the blinding pain. She remembered the hot, sticky blood pouring into her eyes.

Her body reacted before the thought fully formed.

She did not freeze like a normal seven-year-old. She did not raise her hands to protect her face. Instead, she snapped her neck hard to the left.

The ceramic cup flew past her ear. The wind from the heavy object whipped against her cheek, stinging her skin.

The cup slammed into the marble wall behind her.

The impact sounded like a bomb detonating in the echoing room. The ceramic shattered into a hundred jagged pieces.

One sharp shard ricocheted off the wall. It sliced across the back of Cordelia's right hand.

A bright red bead of blood immediately welled up from the cut.

Cordelia slowly lowered her gaze to her bleeding hand. She did not cry. Her chest did not heave. Instead, the corners of her lips twitched upward. She smiled. It was a microscopic, bone-chilling smirk.

Hallie saw that she had missed. Her chest heaved with rage. She stomped her foot hard against the floor, grabbed a velvet throw pillow from the sofa, and raised it over her head.

Leland finally snapped out of his shock. He lunged forward, placing his body between the two girls.

"Miss Hallie, please!" Leland shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

Hallie saw Leland blocking her path. She immediately dropped the pillow. She threw herself backward onto the Persian rug.

Her lungs expanded, and she let out a deafening, hysterical wail.

"She ruined my puzzle!" Hallie sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at Cordelia. Real tears spilled over her eyelashes.

From the second-floor hallway, the sharp, rapid clicking of high heels echoed down the staircase. The noise from the living room had summoned the lady of the house.

Cordelia slowly lifted her head. Her eyes bypassed the crystal chandelier and locked onto the top of the stairs.

A figure was about to turn the corner. It was the biological mother she had spent her past life begging for love. The mother who had ultimately shoved her into hell.

Cordelia's fingers curled inward. She hid her bleeding hand inside the oversized sleeve of her shirt and waited.