The Reborn Genius Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

Celina looked down at Elvie's hand gripping her wrist. Her expression hardened.

With a sharp, precise movement, Celina yanked her arm back. The force wasn't massive, but the absolute rejection in her body language was undeniable.

Elvie gasped. Her eyes widened in fury, and she opened her mouth to scream, but the terrifying presence of the Maybach nearby forced her to swallow her rage. She stood there, her chest heaving, her hands shaking.

The rear window of the Maybach was cracked open just an inch. The interior was completely dark and silent.

Celina ignored Elvie's warning. She didn't lower her head. Instead, she turned her body fully toward the luxury vehicle and stared straight at the gap in the window.

Through the narrow opening, she saw him.

A man was leaning back against the leather seat, his eyes closed. He wore a tailored, pitch-black dress shirt. The top two buttons were undone, exposing the sharp, harsh lines of his collarbone.

His face was sculpted, all sharp angles and deep shadows. Even asleep, he exuded a dangerous, predatory dominance.

Celina's pupils contracted. A cold shock ran down her spine.

She recognized him. It was the man from the Maybach in the rain last night.

But more than that, her memories from her past life slammed into her brain. She knew exactly who this face belonged to.

Donovan Suarez.

He was the second son of the Suarez dynasty, the true apex predators of New York City. In her past life, she had only heard his name whispered in terror by men like her stepfather. Donovan held absolute power over life and death in the financial and underground worlds.

As if feeling the weight of her stare, Donovan's dark eyelashes fluttered.

He opened his eyes.

His gaze was pitch-black, freezing, and infinitely deep. The second his eyes opened, they locked onto Celina standing in the sunlight.

The air between them seemed to crackle. The sound of the fountain in the courtyard faded into dead silence.

A faint, dangerous spark of amusement flickered in the depths of Donovan's eyes.

He hadn't expected this. The wild, defiant girl from the rainstorm was the exact same "trash" the Hayes family had just dragged in from the Rust Belt. He looked at her faded jeans and the cheap backpack. She looked entirely out of place in this multi-million dollar estate, yet her spine was straight as a steel rod.

Elvie noticed Celina staring. She followed the gaze and realized Celina was looking directly into the eyes of the devil himself.

Elvie's heart nearly stopped. She practically threw herself in front of Celina, using her own body to physically block the line of sight between the girl and the car.

Elvie plastered a sickeningly sweet, terrifyingly desperate smile on her face. She bowed her head deeply toward the cracked window, her hands clasped together in a show of total submission.

Inside the car, Donovan's brow twitched in annoyance as his view of Celina was blocked. He slowly closed his eyes again, completely ignoring Elvie's existence.

Elvie's face burned with humiliation, but she didn't dare drop her smile.

Suddenly, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion swung open.

Warren Hayes rushed out. He was practically jogging, his face flushed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Warren didn't even glance at his wife or his new stepdaughter. He ran straight toward the Maybach.

Preston Vance stepped out of the front door behind Warren. He held a leather folder in his hand.

Preston raised a single finger and pointed it at Warren.

"Stop right there, Warren," Preston warned, his voice low but sharp. "Mr. Suarez is resting. He hates being disturbed."

Warren slammed his feet into the pavement, stopping instantly. He nodded his head frantically, looking like a terrified dog. He stood frozen by the car, too afraid to even breathe loudly.

Celina watched her stepfather. This was the man who ruled the Hayes household with an iron fist, yet here he was, trembling before a closed car window.

She understood the rules of power in this city perfectly now.

Preston turned his head. His eyes swept over Elvie and landed on Celina.

Preston's eyebrows shot up. He recognized the girl from the rain. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

He walked down the steps, approached the Maybach, and gently tapped his knuckles against the glass.