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Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

Chapter 9 No.9

Word Count: 488    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

alet stand. Felix was waitin

s she slid into the passenger seat

buckling her seatbelt with sh

started the car.

Randall,"

ng traffic. " The Auguste Randal

" Ivy said, leaning her head ba

b, the scene wa

his waiting armored Maybach. He placed her gently in t

nger brother and VP, wa

looking in the rearview mirror. "I

im. He climbed in

rom the hallway outside the

. "Why? Did so

chest absently. His heart rate was still

ound, his jaw dropping. "That's impos

nutes," Auguste murmured. "

s memory. A hazy, drug-induced memory from four yea

is head. C

said, his voice hardening. "Eve

tapping on his tablet

ch sped up, passing a bla

penetrable. As the imposing vehicle swept past, an inexplicable shiver traced its way down Ivy's

lbion, asleep i

spered to herself. The littl

Felix

said. "Just m

ting director called. They wan

The mother vanished.

ng at the city lights.

you r

rn ready,

received a text from t

her therapy to progress. The a

d at his slee

e vowed silently. "A

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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.”