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Sold To The Shadow King: Reborn Revenge Novel Cover

Sold To The Shadow King: Reborn Revenge

My husband, Hansford Burris, told me tonight was the most important night of his campaign. He handed me a glass of champagne, his face a perfect mask of concern, telling me to drink up so I could relax before meeting the "Shadow King" of D.C. who could secure his political future. I didn't know the golden liquid was laced with a high-dose sedative and hallucinogens. He hadn't brought me to this luxury hotel to celebrate; he had brought me here to be sold, trading my body to a stranger in exchange for a seat of power. In my past life, I trusted him. I drank the poison, woke up shattered, and spent the next five years being tormented by his abusive mother and publicly replaced by his mistress. I was eventually cornered and murdered by the very man I had supported with my family’s fortune, my death staged as a tragic accident to gain him sympathy votes. To him, I wasn't a wife or a partner. I was just an "asset" with a shelf life, a merchant’s good to be traded away. As the life left my body, I couldn't understand how the man who promised to love me forever could watch me choke without a hint of regret. Opening my eyes again, I was back in the St. Regis Hotel on October 14th, exactly five years ago. Hansford was standing there in his polished Armani suit, extending the same glass of drugged champagne toward me. "Gina, darling? Are you alright? Here. Drink this. It will help you relax." Looking at his handsome, lying face, I felt a cold clarity wash over me. I wasn't the naive rabbit he remembered. I took the glass, but I didn't swallow a single drop. This time, I was going to burn his world to the ground.
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Chapter 4

The main hall of the Burris estate was a cavern of dark wood and old money. It smelled of lemon polish and decay.

Hansford was there. He had just hung up the phone, his face flushed with victory. Around him stood three men in suits-his campaign consultants. They were laughing, discussing polling numbers.

When they saw Gina, the laughter died.

"Gina!" Hansford spread his arms wide, a performance of the doting husband. "Darling, you're back. You look... tired. Why don't you go upstairs and rest?"

He walked toward her, intent on steering her away from his team before she could say anything embarrassing.

Gina watched him come. She saw the man who had drugged her. The man who had sold her. The man who would eventually have her killed.

A scream built in her chest. She let it out.

"Don't touch me!"

The shriek echoed off the vaulted ceiling. It was shrill, hysterical, piercing.

The consultants jumped. Hansford froze, his smile faltering.

"Gina, honey..." He reached for her arm.

"Get away from me!" Gina scrambled back, tripping over her own feet, collapsing onto the Persian rug. She crab-walked backward, her eyes wide with terror. "You sent me there! You let him... you let him hurt me!"

She pointed a shaking finger at the bruise on her neck.

The consultants exchanged horrified glances. Domestic abuse? Pimping? The questions hung in the air.

"Gina, stop it," Hansford hissed, his face darkening. He lunged forward to grab her, to silence her. "You're having an episode."

As his hand came within reach, Gina reacted.

She didn't cower. She swung.

Crack.

Her palm connected with Hansford's cheek with the force of a whip. It was a perfect, solid connection. His head snapped to the side.

The sound was deafening in the sudden silence.

Hansford stumbled back, clutching his face. Shock replaced the anger in his eyes. Gina had never defied him. Not once.

Gina immediately burst into tears, curling into a ball on the floor. "Blood... there was so much blood... don't let him near me..."

She was babbling, mixing truth with fiction, painting a picture of a woman broken by trauma.

Vesper stepped in, smooth and authoritative. She placed her body between Gina and Hansford.

"Senator," Vesper said, her voice carrying a warning tone. "Mrs. Burris is in a state of severe shock. I strongly advise you to step back."

Hansford looked at Vesper, then at his consultants. He saw the doubt in their eyes. He couldn't hit her back. Not here. Not now.

"Get her out of here," Hansford snarled, trying to regain his dignity while nursing his stinging cheek. "Call Dr. Sayer."

"What is the meaning of this?"

The voice boomed from the top of the stairs.

Elberta Berger stood on the landing. She was seventy, draped in black velvet, leaning on a silver-tipped cane. She looked like a vulture perched on a gravestone.

"She's hysterical, Mother," Hansford said quickly. "Just... stress."

Elberta's eyes narrowed as she looked down at Gina. "A hysterical wife is a liability, Hansford. Control your house."

Gina looked up through her tears. She saw the contempt on Elberta's face.

"Don't hit me..." Gina whimpered, looking directly at Elberta. "Please don't hit me again."

The consultants shifted uncomfortably. Now the mother was involved in the abuse narrative?

Elberta gasped, offended. "I have never touched you, you ungrateful girl!"

"Vesper, take her upstairs," Hansford ordered, desperate to end the scene.

Vesper helped Gina to her feet. Gina leaned heavily on her, sobbing into her shoulder as they ascended the stairs.

They passed Elberta. Gina didn't look at her. But as they turned the corner into the upper hallway, out of sight of the lobby, Gina's sobbing stopped instantly.

She straightened her spine. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Did you see his face?" Gina whispered, her voice steady and cold. "His left cheek is swelling. He'll have to use concealer for the press conference tomorrow."

Vesper glanced at her, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. "That was a very professional slap, Mrs. Burris."

"It was just the opening statement," Gina said. She walked toward her bedroom door. "Now, we deal with the staff. Higgins has to go."

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