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Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress

Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress

Author: Hui Hui
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Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 1479    |    Released on: 21/01/2026

ed the back of her throat with a metallic taste. Her eyelids felt like they were weighted down with lead, but the sounds of the room were filteri

rom the inside of her elbow, and when she forced her eyes open just a crack, the blur of a

g of marrow regenerating too slowly, of blood volume being just below the thre

that made her wince. The sound of stilettos clicking rapidly against the linoleum floor followed.

g a cream-colored power suit that cost more than the entire foster care budget of the county Dejah had come from. Kathryn looked

cal chart. He was a small man with cold hands and eyes that loo

er voice was tight, clipped. "Jenna can't w

her. "The hematopoietic stem cell density is barely passable. We can proceed with the bone marrow extrac

dismissively as if swatting away a fly. "Just get

rv

calculating subroutine that had been buried under layers of trauma and enforced sedatio

Spare part. Extract

fog lifted. Her pupils, previously dilated and sluggish, contracted sharply. The blur of the room sharpened into high-definition clarity. She

mind whisper

ull, cow-like submission was gone. In it

d, she paused. She frowned, a wrinkle marring her perfect Botoxe

ubbed with sandpaper. Only a dry rasp came out. She needed wat

able. She didn't pour it. She took a step back, her nose wrinkling slig

voice softening into a sickly sweet

shed a wheelchair into the room.

r hair was brushed to a shine, her makeup was flawless-a touch of blush to simula

ah," she said, her voice trembling with a practiced fragility. "I'm so s

her hand ov

Temperature: 98.6 degrees. Grip strength: No

. She was thriving on the blood De

king her hair. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This is why we brought her here.

yn spoke, the corner of Jenna's mouth twitched upward. It was a micro-expression, lasting less than a fifth

hands. "I need to confirm the blood type mat

b like a piece of meat on a butcher's block. He tied the rubber strip tight, pin

ein. Pain, hot and shar

ake three pounds of pressure in the right direction to dislocate his thumb. But she stopped. The monit

r. Hold for four. Exhale for four. The pain became

he vein, and drew the blood. He ripped the tape off when he was done, t

e said to Kathryn. "Make sur

urning the wheelchair around. "You

lder. Her eyes were bright, mocking. "Ge

The room

h's IV. With a callous flick of his wrist, he turned the valve to the 'off' position. He did

ut. The silence was

onds, counting the beats of

er jaw and waited for the vertigo to pass. She lo

he gripped the plastic

ood pressure was too low for theatrics-but the steady ooze was a messy declaration of independence. She p

up her spine, but they weren't from the cold. T

nsteady but determined. She gripped the e

es. Her lips were cracked. But the eyes... the eyes were different. The dull, def

ered to the reflect

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Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress
Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress
“I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my body feeling like a hollowed-out shell. For fifteen years, I had been the "spare part" of the wealthy Kensington family, a foster child kept only as a biological resource for their golden daughter, Jenna. My adoptive mother, Kathryn, walked in with a cold-eyed doctor, discussing me like an old car needing parts. They were planning another bone marrow "harvest" for the next morning, even though the doctor admitted the procedure was risky because my body hadn't recovered from the last extraction. "Passable is fine," Kathryn said, waving away the danger to my life like she was swatting a fly. "Just get it done. It's her only value." Jenna arrived in a wheelchair, putting on a performance of fragile sisterly love while actually glowing with health from the blood I had given her months ago. I watched as the doctor callously jabbed a needle into my arm, missing the vein on purpose, before turning off my pain medication pump as a final act of petty cruelty. They left me there to rot, convinced I was just a dull, submissive girl with nowhere to go. I lay in the silence, feeling the weight of every scrap they'd fed me and every hand-me-down I'd worn while Jenna lived in luxury. I realized I was never a daughter to them; I was an organ farm meant to be drained until I was empty. But as the door clicked shut, the fog of sedation in my brain finally lifted, replaced by a cold, predatory stillness. "Oracle," my mind whispered. "Online." I ripped the IV from my arm and escaped into the night, turning a five-dollar piece of junk into a six-million-dollar fortune in the city's darkest underground markets. By the time I returned to the Kensington Manor, I wasn't the useless foster girl they remembered-I was a predator with a massive bank account and a plan to take back everything they stole from me.”