The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Return To Power

Dakota dropped the water bottle onto the hood and jogged toward the curve. Her boots crushed dead leaves on the shoulder.

She rounded the bend. A massive black Maybach sat diagonally across both lanes. Hazard lights blinked rapidly, flashing orange against the trees.

The rear passenger door was wide open. A cluster of people crowded around the asphalt near the rear tire. Panic radiated off them.

Dakota walked closer. A middle-aged woman lay flat on her back on the rough road. She wore an elegant silk dress that pooled around her legs. Her face was the color of ash. Her lips were a deep, bruised purple. Her hands clawed at the fabric over her chest. Her chest barely moved.

A younger woman in a designer suit knelt beside her. Tiffany Draper. Tears had ruined her makeup.

“Somebody do something,” Tiffany screamed at the men in black suits standing around them. “I’ll pay one million dollars to anyone who saves her.”

A man with gold-rimmed glasses knelt on Audrey’s other side. Sweat poured down his face. A leather medical bag sat open by his knees. His hands shook as he dug through it.

Dakota stopped at the edge of the circle. Her eyes locked onto the woman’s neck, watching the faint, erratic flutter of her pulse. She noted the exact shade of purple on her lips.

Her mind processed the symptoms instantly. This wasn’t a heart attack. The muscle spasms in the woman’s neck and that specific discoloration pointed to a rare poison attacking her heart.

The doctor pulled a plastic syringe from his bag. The needle was long and thick. He drew a clear liquid from a vial. Epinephrine. Adrenaline.

He raised the syringe. He aimed the needle directly at the center of the woman’s chest, preparing to plunge it straight into her heart.

Dakota’s stomach dropped. If that adrenaline hit a heart already weakened by poison, it would burst in seconds.

She moved. She didn’t push anyone. She dropped low, striking the inside of each man’s knee with a sharp, precise blow. The bodyguards grunted. Their legs buckled, creating an opening she slipped through.

She dropped to her knees. Her right hand clamped around the doctor’s wrist just as he drove the needle downward.

A loud pop. The bones in the doctor’s wrist ground together. He cried out in pain. The needle stopped one inch above the silk dress.

The doctor yanked his head up. His face went red with fury.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Get off me.”

Dakota twisted her grip. She pressed into the nerve cluster at his wrist. His fingers went numb and popped open. She snatched the syringe out of the air.

She held it up. Sunlight caught the sharp edge of the needle.

“If you push this into her chest, she’ll be dead in three seconds,” Dakota said. Her voice cut through the panic like a blade.

Tiffany scrambled to her feet. She pointed a shaking finger at Dakota’s faded jacket.

“Who the hell are you?” Tiffany shrieked. “Look at you. You look like a homeless beggar. How dare you touch her doctor.”

The doctor grabbed his injured wrist and scrambled backward.

“She’s trying to kill the patient,” he shouted. “If she dies, it’s this crazy woman’s fault.”

The bodyguards recovered their balance. They reached under their jackets. The metallic click of telescopic batons extending filled the air. Four men formed a tight ring around Dakota.

The air grew heavy. The men glared down at her.

Audrey’s body suddenly arched off the pavement. A horrible, wet choking sound came from her throat. The portable heart monitor attached to her wrist began beeping rapidly.

Dakota ignored the men looming over her. She tossed the syringe onto the asphalt and looked directly into Tiffany’s panicked eyes.

“I’m the only person here who can keep her alive,” Dakota said.