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The Mafia Heiress's Scorched Earth Revenge

The Mafia Heiress's Scorched Earth Revenge

Author: Jun Wen
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Chapter 1

Word Count: 1612    |    Released on: 10/02/2026

y fiancé's club, hiding my identity

hop was a King worth merging e

alking in wearing

st treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scaldi

ding, my skin bli

him the burn, expecting him t

is investors watc

sacrifice me

ough the speaker. "Beg her pardon.

most dangerous man on the East

he was show

a woman who could burn his entire wo

cry. I di

he phone and locke

e number everyone in

cold as steel. "Code B

nd the

pte

ke

s its public face, would erect our empire. That covenant was annulled on the day he, our Chief Executive, commanded me-a junior developer-to o

he termination commenced on a Tuesday, my first

d plate glass. I awaited the arrival of a clerk from Human Resources, another anonymous novitiate in the company I had helped conceive. The idea

e to be a shade within these walls for one year. I wish to know the true minds of our employees, the actual sh

, and his assent. "Anything for my

s if from a prior lifetime, thou

an entered as if propelled by a gale. She was an apparition of couturier's labels and a palpable, radiating entitlement. Enormous sunglasse

it with a platinum credit card. The sound was a sharp

ain that suggested she found the utterance of such a pedestrian re

e a slight stammer. "Ma'am, this is a corporate office

sses down the bridge of her nose, revealing eyes that regarded the wo

aden Juarez. Does that name signify anything? No? Very well. Simply fetch the coffee. Now. And do not think t

its pages still warm from the press, outlined a precise code of conduct: professionalism, respect,

y posture at ease. My function

desk, and our pantry..." the receptionist a

r scanning for prey, and it came to rest upon me. Upon my plain denim trousers

preceding her like a suffocating mi

thout expression.

nly a faint, clinical cruelty. "Then you have not yet been taught how to be entirely use

d upon the secret articles of incorporation, which lay under lock and key in my father's vault. But my public p

e heat of them scalding my throat. I tasted the faint, metallic tang of blood and realized I had bitten

eyes narrowed. "What you will do is procure my coffee. Do not look at me

the pores of her skin. She was attempting to cow me, to establi

across the lobby. She cast a glance down at my sensible, flat-soled shoes and then, with p

sibilance. "When you return with it, you will

e hallway, his face a pale mask of alarm. It was Mark,

elay," he said, his posture nearly a bow. "

on. "I apologize for my new hire. She is

not deigning to look at him. "S

hed down the corridor that le

his expression a compound of pity and fear. "Listen,

asked, though I felt a hea

go. A donation of bone marrow. Connor feels he is indebted to her for everything. Consequently, she is given whatever she desires. She can

rse. But he had described a heroine, a selfless woman. Not this cruel, narcissistic creatu

s, the true ones, listed two co-founders: Connor Bishop and Blake Shaw. N

this house she pretended to be. I was. T

ermitting th

his was merely my first trial. A trial of the compa

Let us see

how far Ms. Juarez

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