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 7
The heavy doors to the quarters swung open. This time, there was no shouting.
Four members of the Presidential Protective Division entered first, fanning out with terrifying precision to secure the four corners of the room.
Then, President Christian Harrison walked in.
He wore a dark navy suit, the American flag pin gleaming on his lapel. His presence sucked the oxygen out of the room. He didn't yell. He didn't rush. He simply walked to the center of the chaos and stopped.
His sharp, predatory eyes scanned the scene: his son soaking wet on the floor, a bleeding staffer, his wife looking like she wanted to commit murder, and the Stanton heiress cowering on the sofa.
Christian slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in a single armchair. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee.
"Would someone care to explain," Christian said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "why the East Wing currently resembles a dive bar brawl?"
Domenic saw his father and scrambled to his feet, desperate for an ally.
"Dad! It was her!" Domenic pointed a shaking finger at Hester. "She kicked me into the pool! She's trying to frame me!"
Christian frowned. He looked at his pathetic, shivering son, and then his eyes shifted to Hester. He noted the torn silk, the red scrape on her shoulder, and the terrified tears on her face. A dark, calculating light flickered in his eyes.
He ignored Domenic completely. He looked at Elba, his tone laced with mild reprimand.
"Elba, is this the kind of discipline the Stanton family teaches their daughters?"
It was a masterclass in political deflection. He was trying to shift the focus from attempted murder to a teenager's lack of manners.
Elba let out a harsh, bitter laugh. She didn't back down an inch. She picked up the bloody medical photos and slammed them down on the table right in front of Christian.
"Your son," Elba spat, "tried to drown Hester in the South Pool because she refused to break the engagement so he could sleep with a staffer's niece. Is that the Harrison family's standard of behavior?"
Christian glanced at the photos. His pupils contracted slightly, but his face remained an impenetrable mask. He tapped his index finger against his knee.
He shifted his gaze to Jayleen, who was still bleeding on the floor. For a fraction of a second, a deeply hidden, complex emotion flashed in the President's eyes. Then it was gone.
"Take Ms. Brooks to the infirmary," Christian ordered the agents coldly. "No one speaks to her without my direct authorization."
Two agents hauled Jayleen to her feet. As she was dragged past Christian's chair, she looked down at him. Her eyes were wide, filled with desperate, silent pleading. Christian didn't even blink.
Once the room was cleared of the bleeding staffer, Christian stood up.
He walked over to Domenic. Without a single word of warning, Christian raised his hand and struck his son across the face.
The blow was vicious. It was twice as hard as Elba's.
Domenic collapsed to the floor, a fresh cut opening on his lip. He lay there, completely stunned, too terrified to even breathe.
"You absolute idiot," Christian hissed, looking down at him with pure disgust. "I don't care what happened between you two. You caused a scandal in the White House a year before the election. Do you want to lose everything?"
Hester watched from the shadows of the sofa. She felt a cold knot of disgust in her stomach. The President didn't care that his son had tried to kill her. He only cared that Domenic had been sloppy.
Christian turned away from his son. His face instantly transformed. The cold dictator vanished, replaced by the warm, paternal leader of the free world.
He walked over to Hester and actually bent forward slightly, his voice dripping with synthetic sympathy.
"Hester, I am so sorry," Christian said softly. "The boy has been spoiled. I assure you, he will be severely punished for treating you this way."
Elba cut through the bullshit like a knife.
"The only acceptable punishment is the immediate cancellation of this engagement," Elba stated firmly. "The Stanton family will not subject our daughter to this humiliation."
The words cancellation of this engagement made Christian's jaw tighten. He could not afford to lose the Stanton family's grip on the military. Not now.
His warm mask slipped, revealing the ruthless politician underneath.
"Elba, marriage is not a game," Christian said, his voice hardening. "We are twelve months from an election. Do you have any idea the political earthquake a broken engagement would cause?"
"I care about her life!" Elba fired back. "If he tries to kill her today, he'll sell out the country tomorrow!"
The tension in the room was suffocating. The President and the First Lady were locked in a standoff that could tear the administration apart.
Then, Hester moved.
She slowly stood up from behind Elba. Her legs trembled. She kept her head bowed, her voice weak but incredibly clear.
"Aunt Elba... the President is right."
Elba whipped her head around, staring at her niece in absolute shock.
Hester kept her eyes glued to the floor, playing the role of the broken, dutiful pawn. "We can't let my personal feelings ruin the alliance. The family comes first."
Christian's eyes lit up with predatory satisfaction. He looked at Hester and saw exactly what he wanted to see: a weak, easily manipulated little girl who was too scared to fight back.
But beneath her lowered lashes, Hester's blue eyes were burning with a terrifying, toxic hatred.
She wasn't going to break the engagement. She was going to use the title of "Future Daughter-in-Law" as a shield, and she was going to gut the Harrison family from the inside out.
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7.2
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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?