The Heiress Revenge Abandoned No More

Harmony's eyes snapped open.

Her vision blurred with cold sweat. Her lungs violently expanded, pulling in the conditioned air of her Upper East Side bedroom, but all she could taste was the sterile, chemical tang of a hospital ward from her nightmare. A phantom sense of restraint and helplessness still clung to her limbs.

She dug her fingernails into the mattress. She gripped the Egyptian cotton sheets so hard her knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white. The smooth, expensive fabric grounded her. It was real. She was here.

A violent pounding rattled the solid oak door of her bedroom.

The vibration sent a physical shockwave through her chest, interrupting her desperate attempt to slow her hammering pulse.

"Harmony! Open this door right now!"

It was Alon. Her eldest brother's voice bled through the heavy wood, thick with irritation. He accused her of giving Fallon the cold shoulder last night, claiming her jealousy had caused their adopted sister to lose sleep.

Harmony's brain misfired. The audio of Alon's angry voice in the present perfectly overlapped with the cold, dead tone he had used in her nightmare when he signed her involuntary commitment papers.

Her stomach clamped down in a brutal cramp. A wave of somatic terror forced her body to scramble backward, her spine hitting the hard edge of her mahogany headboard.

Alon lost his patience. The brass doorknob twisted violently.

He shoved the door open, his tall, broad-shouldered frame instantly blocking the morning light spilling from the hallway. He stood over her, casting a long, suffocating shadow across her bed. There was no brotherly concern in his eyes. Only deep, unfiltered disgust.

"Get out of bed," Alon ordered, his voice echoing in the large room. "You are going to apologize to Fallon. If you don't, I'm cutting off your black card today."

Harmony bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. The sharp sting and the sudden, metallic taste of copper flooded her mouth. The blood grounded her, suppressing the scream that clawed at her throat.

She slowly tilted her head up.

The raw panic that had dilated her pupils just seconds ago began to freeze over. The warmth drained from her face, leaving behind a hollow, dead stillness that made Alon shift his weight.

The unfamiliar emptiness in her stare pricked at his ego. He instinctively raised his voice, a habit he used whenever he felt a loss of control.

"Did you hear me? Apologize to her. Now."

Harmony didn't cry. She didn't launch into her usual frantic defense.

Instead, she pushed the heavy duvet aside and stood up. Her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor. She took two seconds to smooth out the wrinkles in her silk pajamas, her movements deliberate and slow.

"You're right," Harmony said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any inflection. "I was inconsiderate last night."

Alon blinked. The cruel, rehearsed lecture died in his throat. He stared at her, completely thrown off balance by her immediate submission.