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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 9

Lana stared at Delina over her iced latte. The condensation dripped onto the metal table of the hip LA coffee shop.

"You turned down the Lead?" Lana asked, incredulous. "For a supporting role?"

"The Lead shoots in Europe for six months. I need to be in LA," Delina explained.

She couldn't leave Hiram. She couldn't leave Florene unmonitored.

"And I want you to get me on 'The Real Wives of Beverly Hills'," Delina added.

Lana choked on her drink. She coughed, waving a hand. "Reality TV? Delina, that's career suicide for a serious actress."

"It's a shield, Lana. I need cameras on me," Delina said seriously.

If she was a public figure, constantly filmed, Florene couldn't quietly kill her again. Shadows couldn't exist under studio lights.

"Plus, the drama with my step-family is gold. The producers will love it."

Lana looked at her, assessing. She saw the steel in Delina's eyes. "You're planning something."

"I'm planning a takeover. Are you in?"

Lana grinned. "I get fifteen percent."

"Deal." They shook hands.

Delina's phone buzzes. It was a text from Kassidy.

'Sis! Mom says you're acting weird. Dinner tonight? We're worried.'

Delina showed the text to Lana. "See? Content."

Lana laughed. "Okay, I'll make the calls. But Hiram hates cameras."

"I'll handle Hiram," Delina said, though a knot of ice formed in her stomach. She knew what she was asking. It was more than a career move; it was an act of war against his privacy. A man who lived in the shadows wouldn't welcome the glare of a thousand cameras. But that was the point. Shadows were where assassins thrived. If she dragged their lives into the light, she might just survive. It was a gamble-one that could either save her or make him hate her forever.

She stood to leave. As she did, a wave of dizziness hit her.

It was like the ground vanished. She grabbed the table edge, her vision swimming.

A trickle of warm liquid ran from her nose.

She wiped it with her hand. Bright red blood.

Lana stood up, concerned. "Delina? You okay?"

"Just... dehydrated," Delina lied. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her nose.

She realized with a jolt. Using her power twice in one day-Stone and Monica-had a cost. Her brain felt like it was on fire.

She stumbled out to her car. She sat in the driver's seat, leaning her head back.

She checked her reflection. Pale skin. Bloodshot eyes. The power drained her life force.

Her phone rang again.

Caller ID: Gorden Ballard.

She stared at the screen. The man who let them kill her.

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