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Reborn Heiress: The Revenge She Deserves Novel Cover

Reborn Heiress: The Revenge She Deserves

The rain was a solid sheet of gray as the black SUV rammed into my car, sending me spiraling over the guardrail. As the glass shattered and the world turned upside down, a searing pain ripped through my chest before everything went cold and dark. I didn’t stay in the darkness. My spirit hovered ten feet in the air, watching the steam hiss from my mangled sedan. I followed the magnetic pull of my soul back to my family estate, expecting to find them devastated. Instead, I found my stepmother, Florene, and my sister, Kassidy, pouring vintage champagne and laughing in the drawing room. "To the end of the nuisance," Florene said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "The trust fund unlocks at midnight. We're finally rich." The betrayal cut deeper than the metal that killed me, but the real shock came at my funeral. Hiram Tyson—the cold, masked husband I’d spent three years fearing—collapsed over my closed casket. He unbuckled his silver mask, revealing a face ruined by scars, and sobbed a name I hadn't heard since childhood. "I'm sorry, Angel. I thought keeping you at arm's length would keep the darkness away." He wasn't the monster I thought he was. He was the boy I had saved at the orphanage years ago, and he had been protecting me in silence while my own family plotted my murder. I reached out to touch him, but the world exploded into a blinding white light. When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in a casket. I was back in our bedroom, feeling the heavy weight of Hiram’s arm across my waist. The calendar on the nightstand read September 14, 2023—exactly one year before the crash. I looked at the silver mask resting on the table and felt a cold, hard determination settle in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I was going to be the villain in their story and burn their world to the ground.
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Chapter 8

Monica Star spotted Delina and smirked. She strutted over, her heels clicking aggressively on the terrazzo floor.

"Delina! I thought you retired to be a trophy wife," Monica sneered. "Running out of allowance?"

"Just taking a sabbatical, Monica. Unlike your acting skills, which seem to have retired permanently," Delina retorted.

A few other actresses in the waiting room stifled giggles.

Monica glared. Her face flushed. "I'm the lead for this. Director Harvey and I are... close."

She let the implication hang in the air. The "Casting Couch."

The assistant opened the door. "Monica Star, you're up."

Monica winked at Delina. "Watch and learn, sweetie."

Delina sat down. She closed her eyes. She focused on the room beyond the heavy door.

Her mind pushed through the wall. She sensed the sleazy, greasy energy of Director Harvey. She felt Monica's desperate ambition.

She visualized Monica losing control.

Suggestion: You are invincible. You can say anything.

Inside the room, Monica started her lines.

Suddenly, she stopped. Delina heard it through the wall.

"This script is garbage, Harvey," Monica said loudly.

Delina heard Harvey's muffled confusion. "Excuse me?"

"And stop staring at my chest, you old pervert!" Monica's voice rose to a shriek.

Delina pushed harder. Escalate.

A crash. A chair being thrown.

"Do you know who I am? I could ruin you with a single phone call! This whole studio will burn before you ever disrespect me again!" Monica screamed.

The door flew open. Security guards dragged a kicking, screaming Monica out.

"You'll never work in this town again!" Harvey bellowed from inside, his face purple.

Monica was hauled past Delina. She looked wild-eyed, confused, as if waking from a dream.

"Next! Delina Ballard!" the assistant called. She looked terrified.

Delina stood up. She smoothed her skirt.

She walked into the office. Director Harvey was adjusting his tie, looking shaken.

"Sorry about that, Delina. Crazy women," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Delina sat gracefully. "Shall we begin, Director? Strictly professional."

She performed the monologue. She channeled the cold of the rain, the pain of the crash, the betrayal of her sister.

Harvey stared at her. He was stunned into silence.

"You... you got the part," he stammered. "The Lead is yours."

Delina smiled. "Thank you. But I want the Supporting Villain role. Not the Lead."

Harvey blinked. "But... why?"

"Because villains have more fun," she said.

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