Rising From Hell: The Vengeful Heiress Returns
I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.
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Chapter 6
Before Domenic's hand could even cross Elba's shoulder, the First Lady moved.
Elba brought her arm back and swung with every ounce of strength in her body.
Crack.
The slap sounded like a gunshot in the enclosed room. Elba's palm connected with Domenic's freezing, pale cheek with devastating force.
Domenic's head whipped to the side. He stumbled backward, his heavy boots tangling in the thermal blanket. He clutched his rapidly swelling face, his eyes wide with absolute shock.
The room fell dead silent. Even the Secret Service agents lowered their eyes, refusing to look at the First Lady's wrath.
"You stupid, pathetic animal," Elba hissed, her voice vibrating with disgust. "You tried to murder the Stanton family's daughter over some cheap piece of trash?!"
Domenic's brain was misfiring from the cold and the blow. The sheer injustice of it made him see red.
"She's lying!" he bellowed, spit flying from his lips. "She kicked me! Look at her, she's faking it!"
Behind Elba, Hester let out a pathetic, trembling whimper, shrinking smaller into the cushions.
Elba sneered. She grabbed the physician by the sleeve and yanked him forward, then pointed a rigid finger at Hester's exposed wounds. "Doctor. Show him."
The physician, visibly rattled, held up his digital camera and scrolled through the raw images on the screen. The high-resolution shots of Hester's bruised wrists and bleeding shoulder flickered past, one by one, the fresh contusions rendered in brutal, undeniable detail.
"She kicked you?" Elba mocked, her voice dripping with venom. "A ninety-pound girl kicked a grown man into a pool? Are these bruises fake? Did she tear her own skin open just to frame you?!"
Domenic stared at the images on the camera screen. His mind spun. He had only tried to slap her. Where did those marks come from?
Before he could open his mouth to argue, raised voices erupted from the corridor. One of the agents stationed outside cracked the door and leaned in, his expression tight. "Madam First Lady, the intern coordinator is demanding access. She claims she has urgent information regarding your son."
Elba's eyes flickered with cold suspicion. "Let her in."
The door swung open. Jayleen Brooks, the senior White House staffer and intern coordinator, rushed into the room, her heels clicking frantically against the floor. Alex had radioed for medical support minutes earlier, and in the commotion of the physician's arrival, fragments of rumor had leaked through the residential staff channels—enough for Jayleen to piece together that Domenic was in serious trouble.
Jayleen took one look at Domenic—soaking wet, shivering, with a massive red handprint on his face—and let out a gasp of pure horror.
She completely ignored protocol. She threw herself in front of Domenic, shielding him with her body. She grabbed a dry towel from a nearby chair and began frantically drying his hair, her hands shaking.
Then, Jayleen did the unthinkable. She threw herself onto her knees in front of the First Lady of the United States, her face pale and streaked with terrified tears. "Madam First Lady, please, I beg of you, stop!" Jayleen pleaded, her voice trembling with a desperate, agonizing panic that crossed all professional boundaries. "He is just a boy, and he's freezing! He's going to catch pneumonia! You must let him get warm!"
Elba's eyes narrowed into dangerous, lethal slits. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Excuse me?" Elba said softly. "Since when does a staffer dictate how I discipline my son?"
From her safe spot behind Elba, Hester saw the golden opportunity. She let out a shaky breath and spoke up, her voice trembling.
"Aunt Elba... in the sitting room, Domenic said Tricia was his true love. And Tricia is Ms. Brooks's niece... they were working together."
The words acted like gasoline on a fire.
Elba's mind connected the dots instantly. This aging staffer was helping her niece seduce the President's son, trying to manipulate her way into the First Family.
"Get this insolent woman out of my sight," Elba ordered the agents, her voice absolute zero. "She is fired. Escort her off the grounds immediately."
Two agents stepped forward. They grabbed Jayleen by the arms and pulled her firmly to her feet, beginning to march her toward the door.
"No! You can't do this!" Jayleen shrieked, struggling wildly against the trained men.
Seeing Jayleen being forcibly removed snapped the last thread of Domenic's sanity.
With a guttural roar, Domenic lunged forward. He threw a wild, desperate punch at the jaw of the agent holding Jayleen's right arm.
The agent instinctively dodged and shifted his weight to grapple Domenic. In the sudden chaotic movement, the agent's grip on Jayleen loosened.
The sudden release of tension sent Jayleen stumbling sideways. Her heel caught on the rug.
She fell hard. Her forehead slammed directly into the sharp, carved wooden corner of the coffee table.
A sickening thud echoed in the room. Jayleen screamed. Blood instantly gushed from a deep gash above her eyebrow, pouring down her face.
"Jayleen!" Domenic screamed.
He wrenched against the remaining agent and dropped to his knees beside her. He pressed his hands to her bleeding head. He looked up at his mother, his eyes completely bloodshot and feral.
"You are a cold-blooded machine!" Domenic roared at Elba, his voice tearing his throat. "You don't deserve to be a mother! If she dies, I will never forgive you!"
The words struck Elba like a physical knife to the chest.
Her own son. The boy she had raised, protected, and groomed for power. He was cursing her, telling her she wasn't a mother, all for the sake of a staffer who was pimping out her niece.
Elba's face turned the color of ash.
Hester watched the First Lady sway slightly on her feet. A cold, dark thrill shot through Hester's veins. In her past life, Elba had bled herself dry for this ungrateful bastard. Now, the illusion was shattered forever.
Elba closed her eyes. She took a slow, deep breath. When she opened them, the motherly warmth was entirely gone, replaced by the ruthless calculation of a politician.
She turned to her Chief of Staff.
"Alex," Elba said, her voice dead. "Go to the Oval Office. Tell the President to come here immediately."
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7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.
9.5
On the day she discovers she is pregnant, Amara is handed divorce papers by the man she loved for three years. Betrayed by her husband and her best friend, she walks away with nothing-except the secret growing inside her.
But what Ethan Cole doesn't know is that the woman he abandoned is not weak... and not alone.
When Amara returns as a powerful heiress, no longer the woman he could control, Ethan begins to regret everything. But as secrets unravel and the truth about her pregnancy comes closer to light, one question remains-
When he finally finds out the child is his... will it already be too late?
8.9
At my million-dollar wedding to the Hoffman heir, the priest was interrupted by a ringing phone.
My groom, Elijah, didn't silence it. He answered it right at the altar, yanked his arm from my grasp, and walked out because his "true love" Jalyn needed him.
I was left standing alone in front of three hundred elite guests, blinded by mocking camera flashes. My own mother rolled her eyes in disgust, later threatening to freeze my trust fund and sell me to a notorious playboy to recoup her losses. Elijah even had the nerve to call me, demanding I take the blame for the canceled wedding to save his PR, while live news feeds showed him cradling a fragile Jalyn in the hospital.
I had spent two years bending over backward to be his perfect bride, only to be discarded like trash. What made it sicker was finding out that Jalyn's sudden "medical emergency" was actually a ruptured cyst caused by having vigorous sex with Elijah right before he walked down the aisle.
I refused to let them destroy me.
Kicking off my six-inch heels, I stepped down from the altar and walked straight to the back row where Cristian Lowe sat. He was the ruthless iceberg of Wall Street and Elijah's most terrifying rival.
I looked up at his sharp jawline and asked the craziest question of my life.
"Will you marry me?"
He stood up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
"As you wish."
9.3
Elliana sat on the cold marble floor, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Overjoyed, she went to her husband Garrett’s study to surprise him.
But the room was empty. On his iPad, she accidentally opened a muted security video from the night before. As a graphic novelist trained in facial anatomy, she easily read Garrett’s lips as he spoke to their housekeeper.
"Increase the hallucinogens and the birth control. Let her become a complete lunatic."
The truth shattered her reality. Her three years of inexplicable exhaustion and mental collapses were orchestrated to keep her away from her ex-fiancé, who was now married to Garrett’s sister, Cristina. The nightmare worsened during a horrific highway crash. As their SUV flipped and caught fire, Garrett ruthlessly abandoned a pregnant Elliana in the crushed backseat. He dragged Cristina to safety, leaving Elliana to burn. She survived, but her right hand—her drawing hand—was permanently destroyed.
Lying in the hospital with her career ruined and her intellectual property stolen by the husband who forged her signature while she was drugged, a freezing void of hatred consumed her. She was nothing but a sedated decoy to hide Garrett's twisted, incestuous obsession with his own sister.
When Garrett knelt by her hospital bed with fake tears, Elliana didn't scream or expose him. Instead, she forced a pathetic, dependent smile, playing the perfect broken wife. She was going back to his penthouse to steal his encrypted files, ready to feed him to Manhattan's most cutthroat divorce lawyer and watch his empire burn.
7.6
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.
8.8
Sold for scraps.Saved by a monster. Destined to rule them all.
Faith is a "Dud", a wolfless orphan living in the shadows of the trenches. Treated as a servant by her own family, she hides a mind more brilliant than any Alpha's instinct. But in the process of winning a life-changing scholarship, she is betrayed. Drugged and sold to traffickers by her own aunt, Faith thought her life was over -until she falls from a third-story window and lands on the hood of a car that belongs to the most dangerous man in the country.
Killian Nightshade. Billionaire. Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. A man who rules with ice in his veins and power in his hands.
Killian doesn't do favors. He makes investments. He claims Faith as his "Personal Shadow" to work off the debt of his ruined car. But as he forces her into the shark-infested waters of the North Elite Academy, he finds himself breaking his own rule: Never get attached to the help.
While Faith battles ruthless bullies and the predatory interest of Killian's rival, Silas, a twenty-year-old secret begins to stir in her blood. She isn't just a Dud. She is a legend. And when the girl who was sold for scraps finally shifts, the entire werewolf world will have to decide: Will they bow to their new Queen, or be burned by her fire?