Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 844 | Released on: 21/01/2026

twisted into shapes that were supposed to be vines but looked more like sna

nd forth, clutching a bouquet of wilted roses that looked like they had

m. His eyes widened when he saw the Bugatti

ting into an ugly scowl. "Jenna has been waiting at the hospital for hou

d Dejah's wrist. His grip

e thought you ran away. And here you are

have the strength to fight him directly, but she didn't need to. She stepped in closer,

rip broke instantly. He stumbled

y?" He looked offended

ating," Deja

ndow of the Bugatti. "Is that it? You found some rich guy to pay

the stale alcohol on his breath and somethi

hetic rose and bergamot. And there is a faint smudge on your

is neck, covering the spot. "You

ntense physical exertion-like making out in a car with the heat on-can also cause fai

assment was too much. He raised his ha

e calculated the intercept point. She prepared to catch his

didn't

bilt stepped out. He didn't rush. He unfolded his tall

across the pavement like a crack of thunder. "I didn't know the Mo

When he saw who was speaking, the blood draine

He lowered his hand slowly. "I... I didn

od. He didn't touch Dejah, but he stood close enough that his presence formed a wall between her and Julian. H

said. "Do you have a prob

"No, sir. It's just...

e who plays like a robot and smiles like

erbilt' was a weight he couldn't lift. The Vanderbilts ow

He shot Dejah one last look of pu

sedan and drove o

out from the car windo

asimir. "I didn't

a black card. It had no bank logo, just a single phone number embo

need your

s an investment. I have a feeling you're going to cause a lo

say thank you this time. She t

Chapter End

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Rising From Ruin: The Discarded Heiress

Hui Hui Modern

“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.”