Rising From Ashes: The Divorced Heiress

ight. Seraphina hadn't moved from the floor. She was a statue of

eady for his day. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, but his expression was as

e was rewriting the narrative of the night before, absolving himself

ugh escaped her lips. "Yes, Julian," she said, her voic

e looked at him, her eyes vacant. "You hate me," she stated, not as a question, but as a fac

is pride, and his face contorted with rage. He coul

he commanded, his voice shaking with fury. "Get ou

she wh

ny of aches and bruises. She didn't look at him again. She didn't go to her closet.

the bedroom, down the grand staircase, and toward the

She saw Seraphina, saw her state, and her eyes filled with a deep, maternal pi

"Thank you, Maria," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

ing iron gates of Maplewood Manor. She didn't look back. She just start

oss the passenger seat, pushing a worn wool coat and a wad of cash into Serap

a silent thank you, and put on the coat. Maria drove away, an

?" the dr

ion came to mind. The Reyes family estate. Her childhood home. A plac

given her. She stood before another set of impos

Vanessa. Vanessa's perfectly made-up face registered surpri

a drawled. "Look wha

g room, sipping tea with a practiced elegance. Her father, Marcus Reyes, sat in his armchair, hidde

dripping with false concern. "What a surpri

lower his newspap

rframe. "Look at her. She's been kicked out. God,

n the newspaper shielding her father's face.

city to show your face here?" he snapped. "After what you've done? You kill your sister, you alienate Julian As

rystal clear. It wasn't about her. It w

knife. "Julian called this morning. He said she w

finger jabbing at Seraphina. "A whore! That's what you are! We

n had thrown her away, and now her own family was sweep