Rising From Hell: The True Heiress's Revenge

The girl was delicate as porcelain, with an innocent smile and guileless eyes. She extended a hand toward Chloe. "Sister, I don't hold grudges about the past. Let's be a loving family again." Her fingers were perfectly manicured, soft and unblemished—a stark contrast to Chloe's scarred and calloused palms.

The sweetness was nauseating. Chloe felt revulsion twist in her gut. "A loving family? You and me?" The words tasted like ash on her tongue. She had once yearned for exactly this offer. Now it only made her want to scrub her skin raw.

Someone had been watching. Someone who couldn't stand to see his precious Cassie rebuffed.

"Cassie's humbling herself for you, and you still won't accept it? What kind of attitude is that?" Harrison Beaumont had just returned from work, his charcoal Savile Row suit immaculate as he stepped out of his Bentley. He strode toward Chloe, displeasure carved into every line of his face. "You think three years of discipline gives you the right to feel wronged? Do you know Mother hasn't slept through a single night because of you? Her hair's gone white with grief. And Cassie's the one who's been taking care of her in your absence!" His voice cracked on the final word, betraying the depth of his resentment.

Harrison had witnessed everything. Mother's hopeful welcome, crushed. Cassie's gentle overture, met with ice. Three years of discipline, and Chloe still saw herself as the victim? Cassie had nearly died. The memory of that day—Cassie convulsing on the marble floor, foam bubbling at her lips—still woke him in a cold sweat some nights.

Griselda shot Harrison a warning look. "It's not as serious as you're making it. She's just returned. As her eldest brother, the last thing you should do is frighten her."

"Mother, don't protect her. This family owes her nothing." Harrison's anger hadn't cooled. "She committed the crime. The entire family's reputation suffered for it. All of Greenwich knows the Beaumonts produced a daughter capable of poisoning her own sister. Cassie chose to forgive—she's been protecting Chloe's name, telling everyone she never did it. Shouldn't you be grateful?" His words landed like stones, each one weighted with years of accumulated bitterness.

When Chloe stayed silent, Harrison's voice rose to a near-shout. "Say something! Cat got your tongue?"

Chloe blinked hard, fighting the burn behind her eyes. Harrison had once been different. Unlike Carter and Miles, he'd been the one who loved her most. He'd promised to give her half the affection reserved for Cassie. He'd followed through—firing servants who slighted her, designing jewelry for her birthdays, staying by her bedside when she was ill. She remembered the cool weight of his hand on her feverish forehead, the low murmur of his voice reading aloud from a novel she'd mentioned in passing. But every kindness was conditional, easily retracted the moment Cassie showed distress. Such cheap love. She didn't want it anymore.

The standoff stretched painfully until Griselda broke it. "Let's leave the past in the past. Come inside. Your grandmother and father are waiting." Her voice held a note of pleading that seemed to cost her something.

Harrison spun on his heel and marched toward the house. Two steps later, he turned back, voice softening to something unrecognizable. "Cassie. Come with me."

"Yes, big brother." Cassie's smile was radiant as she glanced at Chloe. She said nothing. She didn't need to. The message was clear: I hold all the cards. You hold nothing.

Chloe had long since accepted her role—the only stranger in a house full of family. Even knowing this, even having resolved to discard every emotional tie, to hand over her fiancé, parents, and brothers to Cassie without a backward glance, the sight still stung. Some wounds, she was learning, didn't heal just because you understood their cause.

Griselda guided Chloe inside and instructed a servant, "Take Miss Beaumont to freshen up before she sees the matriarch." Turning to Chloe, she offered a gentle smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Your grandmother is elderly and her health is fragile. Be pleasant. Don't mention the past three years—there's no need to upset her. And you're twenty-five now. It's time to think about marriage. The academy… we can't let anyone know you spent three years there, in close quarters with other men. The gossip would ruin your prospects." She'd already prepared the cover story. "We'll say you were in Switzerland, for your health. You've only just returned." The lie was smooth as polished glass. Griselda had clearly rehearsed it.

Chloe's expression remained flat. She agreed and followed the servant. But a few steps down the hall, she realized they weren't heading toward her old suite. The corridor was familiar, yet subtly wrong—as if the house itself had rearranged its bones to exclude her.