Reborn Heiress: The CEO's Revenge Bride

Chapter 2 2

Word Count: 820 | Released on: 07/02/2026

e. He knew exactly how to apply it

minder of the death she had just escaped. She couldn'

o. A jagged cut ran along his left ribs.

whisper. "You're bleeding out. If you don't comp

t change, but a flicker of something-annoya

opening s

haking finger toward the emergency box

sounded against the corridor door. Th

led voice called out. Th

then back at her. His men by the door straigh

scene will bring everyone

ist. It was a gamb

m toward the

scrambled in beside him. She yanked the sheet up to their chins, then messily pulled the

light cut through the dim room, sweeping

a scr

entitlement she had learned from watching her ste

bs, the bare shoulders, the suggestion of intima

the guard stammered, averting hi

ed, throwing a pillow at the door.

way, face red. "So

r click

to the room, heav

st the mattress. Her heart was hammeri

bject was pressed

ente's phone. He had an article displayed on the screen: a

id of gratitude. "But that doesn't tell me

adying. She pushed the phone away with two fingers. It was i

nte watched her every move. He didn't flinch when she cleaned the wo

ast life, she had treated her own injuries to avoid

Clemente noted, watchin

She packed the kit away. "You sho

b brushed over the ruby signet ring on her finger.

pul

nd back, but his grip was unyieldi

t. "And insurance. You know I was here. You know I was

Cleora said, anger fin

moved to the desk and scribbled a number on a n

, looking back at her. His expression was ca

o a near whisper. "In my world, there are no coin

with the silent grace of a shadow, leaving her alone with the li

Chapter End

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Reborn Heiress: The CEO's Revenge Bride

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“I lay in the hospital bed, every breath feeling like I was inhaling wet concrete. My husband, Trent, stood by the window, more interested in his reflection in the glass than his dying wife. My sister, Cristi, sat nearby, complaining about how the rain would ruin her expensive shoes on the way to the car. Trent walked to my bedside and brushed a finger against my oxygen tube. "The liver failure is aggressive," he whispered. "But we expected that, didn't we? After all those 'vitamins' you've been taking." I tried to scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. Cristi just giggled, telling me not to struggle because they needed my trust fund voting power by midnight. They held up a Do Not Resuscitate order and told me my hand had "signed" it with a little help. "You were a depreciating asset, Cleora," Trent said, his lips cold against my forehead. "Now, you're finally liquidated." As the darkness swallowed me, I saw flashes of my life-my mother's suspicious car crash, my stolen sketchbooks, and the bitter almond taste in my morning juice. I died in a state of pure, helpless rage, realizing I had been murdered by the only people I ever loved. How could they be so heartless? How could I have been so blind to the monsters living in my own home? Then came the sensation of falling. I sat up with a gasp, my lungs burning with fresh, salty air. The hospital was gone. I was in a luxury stateroom on our family's charity cruise, three years before my death. I was alive, healthy, and back at the beginning. When a blood-stained billionaire named Clemente Pennington walked out of the suite's bathroom, I didn't run. I looked him in the eye and realized that this time, I wouldn't be the one liquidated. I was going to make them pay for every drop of poison they ever fed me.”