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Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian Novel Cover

Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian

Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended. A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life. Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout. When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip. "She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!" The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away. Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins. They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again? She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town. "The engagement is over," she announced coldly. Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
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Chapter 6

Hiram heard the raw, broken sound of his name tearing from her throat. The last thread of his restraint snapped.

He didn't slow down. Using the momentum of his sprint, Hiram launched a brutal, devastating kick directly into Mickey's chest.

The impact sounded like a baseball bat hitting a sack of wet meat.

Mickey's massive body was lifted entirely off the ground. He flew backward through the air and slammed violently into the brick wall.

A sickening crunch of breaking ribs echoed in the alley. Mickey slid down the wall like a ragdoll, hitting the pavement with a wet thud. He let out a gurgling moan of agony.

Hiram's face was a mask of pure, lethal violence. His dark eyes were dead, devoid of any human mercy.

He took two long strides forward. His heavy military boot came down hard, pinning Mickey's wrist to the asphalt just as the man tried to push himself up.

Hiram shifted his weight. He pressed down.

The sharp, loud crack of bone snapping cleanly in two was followed by Mickey's blood-curdling scream.

Alex and two other security guards sprinted into the alley. Without a word, they grabbed the semi-conscious, sobbing attacker, twisted his unbroken arm behind his back, and dragged him away into the shadows.

Hiram stood still for a second, his chest heaving as he forced the bloodlust back down into his gut. He turned around.

Antoinette was curled into a tight ball against the dirty brick wall. Her sweater was torn at the collar. She was shaking so violently her teeth chattered.

Hiram stripped off his custom-tailored suit jacket. He closed the distance between them in three quick steps.

He dropped to one knee. He didn't speak. He just wrapped the heavy, warm jacket tightly around her small, trembling shoulders, cocooning her in his scent.

He kept his hands hovering inches from her arms, terrified that touching her would break her. His voice was a harsh, raspy whisper. "Are you hurt?"

Hearing the raw gentleness in his voice broke the dam inside Antoinette.

She lunged forward. She threw her arms around Hiram's waist, burying her face into his hard chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt like a drowning woman holding a life raft.

Hiram's entire body went rigid. His arms hung frozen in the air. He didn't know what to do.

He felt the violent tremors wracking her small frame. He felt the hot dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt, burning against his skin. His chest tightened painfully.

Slowly, clumsily, he lowered his arms. He wrapped them around her back, pulling her flush against him. His large hand flattened against her spine, rubbing in slow, grounding circles.

Hiram dropped his chin, resting it gently on the top of her head. "It's over," he swore, his voice a low, absolute vow. "I'm here. No one will ever touch you again."

The absolute certainty in his words acted like a sedative. Antoinette's frantic sobbing slowly reduced to quiet, exhausted hiccups.

When her breathing finally leveled out, Hiram didn't ask her to stand. He simply slid his arms under her and stood up, lifting her effortlessly against his chest.

He carried her out of the alley and gently placed her into the warm, spacious back seat of the SUV. He slid in right next to her, his thigh pressing firmly against hers.

Alex slammed the door shut and hit the gas, speeding away from the filth.

The heat in the car was blasted on high. Hiram reached into a small insulated compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

Antoinette took it. Her fingers were still ice-cold, trembling slightly against the plastic.

Hiram saw her shaking hands. Without a second thought, he reached out. He wrapped his massive, burning-hot hands completely over hers, holding her trembling fingers tight against the cool bottle.

The intense heat from his palms seeped directly into her skin, melting the ice in her veins.

Antoinette turned her head. She looked at the hard, unreadable profile of the man beside her. Every wall she had built in her past life crumbled to dust.

"Thank you," she whispered, and let her head fall sideways, coming to rest against his broad shoulder.

Hiram's muscles tensed for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax. He let her lean on him.

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