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Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 571    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

hind them, cutting off t

n low, chilling the sweat on Ivy's skin. The room smelled of ced

ls. The little girl was still clutching her hand like

on e

are

acier-deep, cold, and u

look

harp, aristocratic features and eyes the color of a stormy sea. He wore a black suit that

O of the Randall Group.

sequined dress. She looked startled,

demanded, looking Ivy up and down

date. His gaze was fixed on

by a fraction of a degree, but it

ntly. She buried her face in the silk of

tears seeping through t

gh Ivy. She didn't know this child, but she knew that fear.

ed her hand on Ara's head,

er chin to meet Auguste's gaze.

daughter's head. He seemed surprised that Ara wasn't r

, melting into t

a half-step forward. Auguste lifted a single, commanding finger, halting the bodyguard in his tracks. His gaze re

ee," he said smoothly, "my domestic situation is

cking me out? Because the n

ny," Auguste said.

bbed her clutch, and stormed out, slamming t

scended on

g over the table. He walked toward the

" he asked, stopp

hammering against her ribs. "I told you.

n back at Ivy. His gaze wa

his voice dropping lower. "

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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.”