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Reborn Heiress: Revenge On My Wedding Day Novel Cover

Reborn Heiress: Revenge On My Wedding Day

I lay paralyzed in a luxury Swiss clinic, my body a heavy sack of meat I no longer controlled. The heart monitor’s rhythmic beep was the only thing louder than the silence, a mocking countdown to my inevitable end. My fiancé, Jordan, walked in looking impeccable in the custom suit I had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't alone; my best friend, Chloe, followed him into the room, wearing the vintage Givenchy dress I had saved for our anniversary gala. Jordan didn't look like a grieving man; he looked bored as he held up a blue folder confirming that my family's offshore trust had finally cleared. Chloe giggled, leaning over me to ask if I finally realized it was the engagement wine she had spiked seven days ago. Jordan brushed a cold hand over my forehead, calling me a "perfect little asset" before pulling Chloe into a hungry kiss right over my dying body. To ensure there was no turning back, he pulled out a silver lighter and set my living will on fire, watching the only document that could have saved me turn to ash. I tried to scream, to curse them both to hell for stealing my life and my legacy, but all that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze. My own father, I would later learn, had known about the takeover and chose the profit over his own daughter's life. As the darkness swallowed me whole, I made a silent, desperate promise: if there was anything after this, I would come back and destroy every single one of them. I gasped, my body jerking upright as air rushed into my lungs like liquid fire. I wasn't in Switzerland, and there was no poison in my veins. I was back in my Manhattan bedroom, staring at a phone that read June 12—the morning of the wedding, the day I was supposed to die, and the day I decided to burn their world to the ground.
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Chapter 6

The next morning, the sky was gray. Rain lashed against the windshield of the Maybach.

They were heading downtown. Aria felt brittle, like dried glass, but the dialysis machine Kane had procured-delivered by two men who didn't speak-had done its job. Her blood felt cleaner.

Suddenly, a black SUV swerved in front of them.

Kane slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched on the wet asphalt.

Another SUV boxed them in from behind.

Kane's hand went under his seat. Aria knew he was reaching for a gun.

"Stop," Aria said, putting her hand on his arm. "It's my father."

The door of the lead SUV opened. Robert Daniels stepped out. He didn't have an umbrella. He didn't care. He marched toward Aria's window and banged on the glass.

Aria rolled it down.

"Get in my car," he barked. No hello. No 'are you okay'.

"Say what you have to say here," Aria said.

"You humiliated us," Robert shouted. Rain dripped from his nose. "The stock is down ten percent this morning. Ten percent, Aria!"

"They poisoned me," Aria said quietly. "They tried to steal the company."

"Business is war!" Robert yelled. "You're too emotional. This is exactly why I wanted Chloe. She understands sacrifice. She understands the bigger picture."

The words hit Aria harder than the slap Victoria had tried to land.

"You knew," Aria whispered. "You knew about the takeover."

Robert didn't deny it. He wiped the rain from his face. "The Sloan capital injection is the only thing that will save the conglomerate. We need their money. Issue a statement. Say the video was a deepfake. Say it was performance art. Fix this."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will remove you as CEO. I still control the voting trust."

Aria looked at her father. She saw the coldness in his eyes. He didn't see a daughter. He saw a liability.

"You're right," Aria said. "Business is war."

She pressed the button to roll up the window.

Robert reached in to stop it. "Don't you dare walk away from me!"

The glass pinched his fingers. He yelped and yanked his hand back.

"Drive," Aria said to Kane. "Run him over if he doesn't move."

Kane didn't hesitate. He floored the gas.

The Maybach surged forward. The fender clipped Robert's knee, sending him stumbling into a puddle.

Aria watched him in the side mirror. He was kicking a trash can, screaming at the rain.

Aria stared straight ahead. She didn't cry. She had no tears left.

"I can ruin him," Kane said softly. "I can empty his accounts by noon."

"No," Aria said. "I want to do it. Take us to the Federal Courthouse."

Kane nodded. He wove through the traffic with surgical precision.

Aria pulled out her phone. She texted Judge Sterling. He was her grandfather's best friend. The only man in New York she trusted besides... well, she wasn't sure about Kane yet.

Black Box. Now.

"He's calling Jordan," Kane noted, glancing at the rearview mirror. "Plan B."

"Let them come," Aria said.

She opened her laptop. She started typing the affidavit. Her fingers flew across the keys.

Kane reached over and handed her a bottle of water. The cap was already unscrewed.

Aria took it. She drank. It tasted like survival.

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