Rising From The Ashes Of Betrayal

Chapter 4 4

Word Count: 822 | Released on: 14/01/2026

ed authority. He smelled of cigars and old money-a scent that

pointing a finger inches fro

ilted her head back slightly, exposing her

a two-way st

physical blow. His eyes widened, the pu

ls as if Kala had just pulled a knife. "He

seems the foster system turned you into

ce twisted. "You have two choices. Get on your knees right now an

skipped a bea

s a dumping ground where the elite stored their inconvenient relatives. A place of seda

's would have sent her into a panic attack. Sh

t the point of death, tra

rite reading chair-and sat down. She crossed her legs, smoothing the silk of her robe. T

"Get out of my chair." Hi

he stopped. Kala's gaze met his, and it was utterly devoid of fear. It was a cold, flat, ana

la asked, her voice convers

ff balance by her audacity. "Violent tendencies!

re the one screaming and turning purple. If a doctor w

s face flushing a de

er fingernails, "do you have footage? A police

nesses!" Ar

. "Did you see me push the vase, Archer? Or did you hear a cr

it. He looked at Karly, then back a

't see it," K

for an independent psychiatric evaluation. And I will make sure the press knows that the Kensingto

, the hushed, panicked conversations about a deal gone wrong. The Zurich merger. It was in its inf

n Corp stock react to a scandal like that? 'CEO Institutionalizes Daughter in Fit

ur f

went de

t supposed to know about the board's anxiety. She was supposed

uine alarm. He was a businessman first, a father second.

atening me?"

"You care about your reputation. I care abou

was losing the room. The spotlight was shi

ined moan. Her hand f

.." she

Chapter End

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Rising From The Ashes Of Betrayal

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“I spent my whole life trying to fit into the "Kensington aesthetic," dyeing my hair blonde and playing dumb just to earn a crumb of my father's approval. But when the manor went up in flames, I realized I was never a daughter to them-I was just an inconvenience. I lay pinned under a heavy oak beam, the smell of copper and burnt sugar filling my lungs. My father, Arthur, stood in the doorway with my brothers, looking like a phalanx of saviors, but their eyes weren't on me. They rushed past my outstretched, bloody hand to save my sister, Karly, who was huddled in a corner without a scratch on her. My brother Archer scooped her up like spun glass, stepping over my crushed leg without a second glance. Just before they crossed the threshold, Karly looked back at me and smiled-a small, victorious, terrifying smile. My father didn't offer help; he just shouted that I was an arsonist and slammed the door, sentencing me to burn alive in my own bedroom. As the crystal chandelier melted and crashed toward me, I didn't feel fear anymore. I felt a guttural, distilled hate for the family that left me to die because of a lie. I had spent my life begging for scraps at a table that was never meant for me, and I died realizing they never loved me at all. "If I come back," I promised into the void, "I will burn you all down." I gasped for air and woke up in my bed, the smell of lavender replacing the smoke. It was September 14th, five years before the fire, the exact week I had started ruining myself to please them. I looked in the mirror, scrubbed off the pathetic makeup mask, and realized the old, desperate Kala was dead. If I was going to burn, I'd make sure they were the ones who felt the heat first. "Queen is back online," I whispered.”