The Ruined Heiress Plans Her Vicious Revenge

At exactly seven o'clock the next morning, Farah's phone began to vibrate violently against the mahogany nightstand.

She opened her eyes. She grabbed the phone. The screen was overflowing with push notifications.

TMZ and the Daily Mail had published the photos simultaneously. The headline took up half the screen: Wall Street Lover Boy's Late-Night Rendezvous with Mystery Blonde.

Farah clicked the link. The photo was a masterpiece of forced perspective. Brook's arm was wrapped tightly around Livia's waist, his face buried in her neck. It looked like a desperate, drunken kiss.

She opened the financial app on her phone. The pre-market trading data for Tyler Enterprise was a sea of red. The stock was already down five percent and dropping fast. Investors were panicking over the CEO's sudden moral scandal during a sensitive acquisition.

From the living room, a loud, violent crash echoed through the penthouse. It sounded like a heavy porcelain vase shattering against the hardwood floor.

Farah locked her phone and shoved it under her pillow. She ran her hands through her hair, tangling it to look like she had just woken up. She rubbed her eyes until they were red.

She pushed the bedroom door open and walked barefoot down the hallway.

The living room was a disaster zone. Shards of a Ming dynasty vase were scattered across the rug.

Brook was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His dress shirt was wrinkled, the top three buttons ripped open. His hair was a mess.

Evan, the PR director, stood near the sofa. Sweat was pouring down his forehead as he scrolled frantically on his tablet.

"Buy the trends!" Brook screamed into his phone, his voice hoarse. "Pay Twitter whatever they want! Take the photos down now!"

"Mr. Tyler, we can't," Evan stammered, his hands shaking. "It's everywhere. If we try to scrub it now, it'll just prove we're guilty. The board is threatening a vote of no confidence."

Brook let out a roar of frustration. He pulled the phone away from his ear and hurled it as hard as he could against the marble wall. The device shattered into pieces.

Brook turned around, breathing heavily. He froze.

Farah was standing in the shadows of the hallway. Her hands were covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide with absolute horror.

Brook's face dropped. Panic flashed in his eyes. He took a step toward her, holding his hands up in surrender. "Farah. Sweetheart. Let me explain."

Farah took a massive step backward. She forced her breathing to turn shallow, letting her face go completely slack to project a cold, numb despair. She let her knees buckle slightly, projecting a hollowed-out emotional collapse, replacing the tears with a trembling, breathless silence. "Who is she?" she whispered, her voice hollow and devoid of life.

Brook stopped. He swallowed hard. "It's not what it looks like. She was just a client. She had too much to drink and stumbled. I caught her, and she spilled wine on her shirt. I was just wiping it off."

Farah bit down on her lip. No tears fell; instead, her eyes were wide, completely vacant, locked onto the mess in front of her. She pointed a shaking finger at the shattered porcelain on the floor.

"If she was just a client," Farah asked, her voice barely a ghost of a sound echoing in the large room, "then why are you destroying our home? Why are you so angry?"

Brook opened his mouth, but no words came out. He pulled at his collar, suffocating under his own lie.

Evan stepped forward, his eyes pleading. "Miss Sterling, please. The company is bleeding. We need you to issue a public statement saying you trust him. We need to show a united front."

Brook looked at her. His eyes were desperate, begging her to save him.

Farah looked at Brook. She let her face twist into an expression of unbearable agony. She shook her head slowly.

"I can't," she whispered. "My head is a mess. I don't know what is real anymore. I can't trust anyone."

She turned around and ran back down the hallway. She slammed the bedroom door shut and twisted the deadbolt.

She slid down the heavy wooden door until she hit the floor. The moment she sat down, the tears stopped completely.

She heard Brook's heavy footsteps run down the hall. He slammed his fists against the door. "Farah! Open the door! You have to help me!"

Farah sat in the silence of her room. She listened to the man who ruined her family beg for his life. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of pure, unadulterated revenge wash over her.