Reborn From Ashes: The Vengeful Socialite's Return

Estrella gripped the leather steering wheel of her Porsche Cayenne until her knuckles turned white. She drove straight into Manhattan, pulling into the underground parking garage of the Four Seasons Hotel.

She put on a pair of oversized black sunglasses to hide the bruising on her face and walked into the grand lobby.

She bypassed the main desk and walked toward the concierge station. She recognized the young woman standing there. Sherry Doherty. The receptionist who had looked at her with pity two nights ago when Hebert dragged her out.

Estrella took off her sunglasses. She let Sherry see the dark purple bruise on her cheek and the fading marks on her neck.

"Please," Estrella whispered, her voice trembling just enough to sound broken. "I need your help."

Sherry's eyes widened. She looked around nervously. "Ma'am, I can't. We have strict privacy policies."

Estrella reached into her bag. She pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills-two thousand dollars in cash-and slid it across the marble counter, covering it with her hand.

"My husband is trying to kill me," Estrella said, staring directly into Sherry's eyes. "This is my only way out."

Sherry stared at the money. She bit her lip, then quickly swept the cash into her pocket. She nodded toward the employee corridor.

Sherry led her down a set of back stairs to the basement security room.

Robert Davies, the head of security, was sitting at a desk, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine. He jumped up when they walked in.

"What the hell is this, Sherry?" Robert barked. "Get her out of here before I fire you."

Estrella stepped in front of Sherry. She stood tall, her posture radiating old money and absolute authority.

"My name is Estrella Zimmerman," she said coldly. "But more importantly, my maiden name is Ward. My mother's family holds a significant stake in the parent company that owns this very hotel chain. You are currently harboring evidence of a felony committed against a major shareholder's daughter."

Robert swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the door. He recognized the Ward name instantly.

"Now, you can either hand over the footage from the penthouse floor on Tuesday night," Estrella continued, stepping closer, "or I can make one phone call to the board of directors. You won't just be fired, Mr. Davies. When the NYPD finds out this hotel facilitated a drug-induced sexual assault for a Wall Street executive, your name will be on the front page of the New York Post. You'll go to prison with him."

Sweat beaded on Robert's forehead. He looked at her bruised face, then at the monitors. He cursed under his breath and sat back down at the keyboard.

He typed in a password and pulled up the archive for Tuesday night.

Estrella stood behind him, her heart hammering against her ribs.

At 11:00 PM, the elevator doors opened on the screen. Hebert stepped out. He was half-carrying, half-dragging Estrella down the hall. She was completely limp, her head rolling on her shoulders like a broken doll.

Hebert swiped the keycard, shoved her inside, and then stood in the hallway. He adjusted his tie, smiled at the camera, and walked away.

Estrella's stomach twisted. There it was. The absolute proof.

"Keep going," she ordered, her voice tight.

Robert fast-forwarded. At 1:00 AM, a tall man walked down the hallway. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled low, and the glare from the overhead hallway lights completely obscured his face. His steps were slightly unsteady.

He stopped at her door. Hebert hadn't closed it completely. The man pushed the door open and walked in. He didn't leave until dawn.

Estrella pulled an encrypted USB drive from her bag and tossed it onto the desk.

"Copy everything," she demanded.

Five minutes later, Estrella walked out of the security room. She clutched the small piece of plastic in her palm so tightly it dug into her skin. She had the weapon she needed. Now, it was time to use it.