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Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 767    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

Years

nternational Airport slid open, and

linded a normal person. The paparazzi were swarming, shouting names, jostlin

waiting for

epped out in

ollar popped to frame her face. Her eyes were hidden behind oversized b

crowd flow around her

girl who begged for love. The woman standing

ugged at the h

e a miniature navy suit and a white shirt, looking like a tiny corporate execut

r son. Her reaso

ise, and entirely devoid of childish wonder. He glanced at the screamin

smoothed his dark hair. "Be nice,

ng at them. "Who is that?" he whispered to his collea

ring her sunglasses just an inch. Her eyes, cold

fro

. It was a graceful, commanding gesture. A porte

particularly aggressive cameraman tri

ns hood. She didn't push; she just

r voice was velvet wrap

looking startled. "Sorry, lad

something els

door opened, and a man in a sharp grey suit steppe

darling," Felix drawled

eavy door thudded shut, cutting off the noise of the air

hing is set. The apartment, the bank accounts

dn't open it. Her gaze w

he skyline of Cloud City. It was a city of glass

billboard loomed

holding a rescue puppy. The text read: Calla Mcgowan: Phila

turned white. Her breath hitched in her throat, a physical

py," Ivy said,

efully. "And rich. And engaged. The we

a dry, humorless sou

, stopped. He reached over and placed his

oted. "Calm down, Mother. A

his father's, whoever that was-were filled

pped open a compact mirror and checked her reflection. Perfec

she whispered, snapp

the city approach

e games

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Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath
Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath
“I walked into the master suite clutching a positive pregnancy test, convinced this tiny plastic stick would finally mend the cracks in my relationship with Braeden Randall. I was ready to tell him we were starting a family, that our future was finally secure. Instead of a celebration, a heavy manila envelope struck me in the chest, slicing my lip open. Photos scattered at my feet-grainy images of a woman who looked exactly like me entering a seedy motel with a stranger. Before I could speak, Braeden's face twisted with a hatred so pure it stole my breath. "I'm pregnant, Braeden! It's yours!" I sobbed, shielding my stomach. He didn't hesitate. He called my baby "evidence of my filth" and delivered a kick so brutal it sent me crashing through a glass coffee table. As I lay amidst the shards, watching the white carpet turn crimson with the blood of my lost child, he simply adjusted his cufflinks and told me to "clean up the mess" before walking out. Hours later, I was bound in ropes on a yacht during a violent storm. My stepmother, Brittny, leaned in and whispered the ultimate betrayal: she had murdered my mother, and now she was finishing me off. They threw me into the black, churning ocean like garbage, expecting the waves to swallow my secrets forever. I sank into the freezing depths, fueled by the memory of that final, desperate flutter in my womb and the cold realization that my life had been stolen by a calculated frame-up. How could the man I loved turn into a monster in a single afternoon, and what else were they hiding? Now, four years later, I've returned to Cloud City with a heart forged in ice and a genius son who looks exactly like the man who tried to kill me. I'm no longer the victim who begged for mercy; I'm a rising star auditioning for the lead in Braeden's new production. The games are just beginning, and I won't stop until I've dismantled the Randall empire piece by piece.”