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The Jilted Heiress: Too Late For Regret Novel Cover

The Jilted Heiress: Too Late For Regret

For years, Gisele believed she was the grateful orphan the wealthy Sterling family had taken in. Then, on a class trip, her "sister" Ivy hands her drugged champagne. She wakes paralyzed in a hotel room, a strange man undoing his belt and reporters waiting outside. In her past life, that night destroyed her: public ruin, rejection by her fiancé Chase, and a fatal fall from a balcony. Dying revealed the truth—the Sterlings kept her to steal her inheritance, and Chase used her as a living blood bank for his true love, Blair. They lived in her house, spent her parents' money, and called it charity. But as the drug burns through her veins, past-life memories return, cold and sharp. This time, she wraps a brass lamp cord around her attacker's throat and waits for Ivy to step into her own trap.
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Chapter 1

The first thing Gisele Kent felt was fire. It wasn't the burn of an injury, but a thick, syrupy heat coiling in her stomach and spreading through her veins. Her limbs were heavy, disconnected from her will.

The second thing she perceived was the smell. Stale champagne, cheap cologne, and the sour scent of a man's sweat.

Her eyes fluttered open. She was on a bed, the sheets impossibly soft against her skin, a sign of wealth she hadn't felt in years. A man stood silhouetted against the glittering lights of the New York City skyline. He was fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

A low, greasy chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Finally awake, little bird? Don't worry, Wade Tucker will take good care of you."

Her mind, sluggish from the drug, struggled to connect the pieces. The class trip. The celebratory drink Ivy Sterling had insisted she have. The sudden, overwhelming dizziness.

Then, another memory slammed into her, cold and sharp as broken glass. A memory not from this life, but the one before. The shove from a high-rise balcony, the rush of wind, the shattering impact. Betrayal.

The two realities merged. The past and the present became one horrifying truth: she was being served up, a helpless offering on an altar of someone else's design.

The man, Wade, took a step closer. "Ivy said you were a shy one. I like that."

Gisele's vision swam, but behind the haze, her mind became a shard of ice. The drug wanted to drag her down, to make her pliant. She wouldn't let it.

She pushed herself up, her movements deliberately clumsy. She made her breath hitch, her eyes wide with a manufactured terror. She began to shuffle backward on the massive bed, away from him.

"No... please," she whispered, her voice a perfect imitation of a frightened girl.

Wade's grin widened, a predator pleased with its cowering prey. He was enjoying this. Good. That would make it easier.

Her retreat wasn't random. Her eyes were locked on the heavy, brass lamp on the bedside table. It was her only chance.

"Don't be scared," he cooed, crawling onto the foot of the bed. He reached for her ankle, his fingers thick and damp.

The moment his attention was focused downward, she moved.

There was no wasted motion. Her hand shot out, not to fight him, but to grab the lamp's plug. She ripped it from the wall socket. In the same fluid movement, she swung the base of the lamp in a tight arc, not at his head, but behind him.

The cord, now a weapon, whipped through the air.

Before Wade could even register the change in her demeanor, the wire was around his throat. He grunted, surprised.

Gisele didn't give him a second to recover. She drove her knee hard into the small of his back, forcing him forward and off balance. She crossed her hands, pulling the cord taut in opposite directions. It wasn't about strangulation; that was too slow, too noisy. It was about precision. The thin wire dug into the sides of his neck, pressing directly against his carotid arteries.

His eyes bulged. A choked, gurgling sound was the only noise he could make. His hands flew up to claw at the wire, but her grip was like iron. She held the pressure, counting the seconds in her head. One. Two. Three.

His struggles weakened. Four. Five.

His body went limp. Brain deprived of oxygen, he collapsed onto the mattress, unconscious.

Gisele didn't pause to admire her work. She unwound the cord and shoved his dead weight off the bed. He hit the plush carpet with a dull thud.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, the drug reasserting its hold. Her forehead was slick with sweat. She braced herself against the headboard, her heart hammering against her ribs not from fear, but from adrenaline.

She needed to get out.

She scanned the room. Her purse was gone. Her phone, her wallet, everything. This was a carefully orchestrated trap. They hadn't left anything to chance.

She stumbled over to Wade's body and quickly patted down his pockets. Nothing but a cheap lighter, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and his car keys. Useless.

Then she heard it. Voices from the hallway, low and urgent.

"... sure she drank the whole thing?" It was Ivy Sterling's sharp, nasal voice.

Gisele's blood ran cold. She flattened herself against the wall, in the dark space between the door and a large armoire. A perfect blind spot.

A second voice, trembling and uncertain, replied, "Yes, Ivy. She finished the whole glass. Are you sure about this? The reporters..."

"Shut up, Chloe," Ivy snapped. "The reporters will be here in five minutes. They get their story, Wade gets his fun, and Gisele gets what she deserves for trying to steal Chase from me. And you? You get to keep your father's little embezzlement problem a secret. Now go. I don't want you seen here."

Footsteps hurried away down the hall.

So that was it. A simple, ugly triangle of jealousy, blackmail, and revenge. And she was the sacrifice.

Ivy remained outside, humming a cheerful little tune. Gisele could hear the faint tapping of fingers on a phone screen. She was coordinating. Making sure her trap snapped shut perfectly.

Five minutes.

Gisele's eyes darted around the room, her mind racing past the waves of drug-induced nausea. She couldn't leave. Not yet. A gift like this deserved to be returned to the sender.

Her gaze fell on the floor next to Wade. His belt. The heavy, silver buckle gleamed in the dim light.

A plan, cold and vicious, bloomed in her mind.

She pushed off the wall, her movements silent despite the unsteadiness in her legs. She picked up the leather belt. The metal was cool and solid in her hand, a comforting weight.

Another wave of heat washed through her, stronger this time. Her vision blurred at the edges. She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. The sharp, coppery tang of blood grounded her, cutting through the fog.

She took a deep, steadying breath, listening to Ivy's self-satisfied humming just outside the door.

The hunter was about to become the prey.

This wasn't just about survival anymore. This was about payback. For this life, and for the last. The Gisele Kent they thought they knew, the quiet, disposable girl from the mountains, was gone.

In her place was something else entirely. Something they had awakened.

And she was just getting started.

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