icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon

The Vengeful Heiress's Deal With The Devil

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 549    |    Released on: Today at 11:52

ack. Cla

eyes snapped open.She threw her hands down, slapping frantically

denim of cheap jeans.Her breathi

ed back at her. It was her own face, unburned

her chest. Her heart hammered ag

e collided violently with the s

ed canvas duffel bag s

was back. This was the night train to New York. The exact day

d dark web contractors to stage an "acc

oed from the connection sp

the cracked vinyl seat, grabbed the canvas

ough the frost

nce like ordinary late-night travelers. However, Brea's hardened instincts immediately caught the unnatural rig

graph, discreetly comparing it to t

up, his gaze locking directly on

e end of the car.The old train violently lurched on the uneven t

tal edge of an exposed luggage rack. A sickening tea

the scream that tried to claw its way out of he

e back of a passenger seat and forced hersel

oor sounded behind her. Heavy, urgent combat bo

shoved her way through the narrow corrido

sh hallway, a heavy walnut

the dark room. She twisted around on the floor, kicked the door s

ic

d of the door, her chest heaving

lar sound cutting through the sile

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
The Vengeful Heiress's Deal With The Devil
The Vengeful Heiress's Deal With The Devil
“Brea Sinclair was finally brought back to her wealthy biological family in New York after years in the Rust Belt. She thought they had missed her, but the reality was sickening. They only brought her back to be a walking bone marrow bank to cure her sister, Caitlynn. Tied to a wooden chair in an abandoned warehouse, Brea could only watch as Caitlynn smiled triumphantly and confessed a horrific truth. Their mother hadn't died of a sudden illness; the Sinclair family had poisoned her for her trust fund. To ensure Brea couldn't fight the marrow harvesting, Caitlynn had a contractor douse the concrete floor in gasoline. "A tragic fire leaving you with third-degree burns and in a comatose state will make the hospital paperwork so much easier." With a serene smile, Caitlynn tossed a lit match into the fuel. As the wall of orange fire swallowed her, melting her clothes to her blistering skin, Brea choked on the smoke and her own distilled hatred. Through the agonizing pain, she swore a silent, bloody oath: if there was a next life, she would carve them all to pieces. Opening her eyes, the roaring fire and searing heat instantly vanished, replaced by the mechanical rumbling of train tracks. She was staring at her unburned, eighteen-year-old reflection in a grimy window. She was back on the night train to New York, on the exact day her nightmare began. This time, she was going to tear the Sinclair family apart from the inside.”