TOP UP

Reading History

Sign out

Get the APP

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 824 | Released on: 12/01/2026

er mouth opening and closin

ich made it terrifying. "You've spent five years feed

w, forcing it open with a strength that shocked the onlookers. With the

Katarin

e clawing at iron. Katarina held her there for three agoniz

e relea

aper, coughing and retching. Her mascar

mother, shrieked, rushing for

lucked from a passing waiter's tray. "I'd love to show them t

urned to Katarina, a greasy smile plastered on his face. "Kata

the bodyguards

the napkin on t

king a death march. Francis, Elena, Can

-paneled study, Fra

ancis said, sitting behin

he doorframe. "I want my mother's shares. I want the Drea

..." He slid the paper across the desk. "You sign this. It reinstates you into

like a prize horse. "It's a good deal, Kat. We were good together

Auston. She looke

the desk. She pic

?" she

en in quarters. She let the conf

all. And as for you, Auston... I wouldn't marry you i

ou think you can walk in here and dictate terms? You

nder his desk. Two large security

Francis ordered. "She stays th

d toward her. B

ne reached

her hips to generate torque, and drove her elbow into his solar plexus with a sicke

ded like a

from under him. As he fell, she didn't just let gravity do the work;

five s

, not even breathing har

ared at her, his eyes narrowing. He looked from the unconscious guards to his daughte

Francis murmured, a new la

ings while I was aw

ir, found her voice. It

ug with a bastard child! Where is it? Did i

e air in the room

owly toward Candi. Her

did yo

ldened by her own stupidity,

abbed Candi by the throat and pinned her against the bo

pered, her face inches from Candi's, "a

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

Shearwater Modern

“I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family's pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."”