The Ruined Heiress Plans Her Vicious Revenge

ing mattress. The back of her hand brushed ag

ight of Manhattan poured through the floor-to-ceili

ilent bedroom. It was coming from the narrow gap in th

open. Sitting on top of a stack of notepads was a sleek black smartphone. It was Brook's secondary busine

imple initials: CP. The vibration pattern stuttere

on to mute the buzzing. Brook was likely in the adjacent st

umsily across the smooth glass, swiping the green accept icon. In her fumbling attempt to sile

peaker. Her tone was sharp, impatient, and entirely devoid of her usual sw

d. Her lungs simply st

the distinct whistling of the wind hitting the glass panels of their penthouse terrace. "I had to s

choed through the speaker. "I'm just annoyed. Cannon getting e

y. It was a cold, satisfied sound. "Buying off Clarence's doctors to fake that sterility

ge into darkness. Her fingers curled inward, her nails diggin

elsey asked. "How is

f any human empathy. "I paid the head nurse at the facility to swap out his exp

rushed up her throat. Cold sweat erupted across her s

going to dump the bankrupt princess? I'm t

ectural design patents and transfer them to Tyler Enterpris

of the terrace slid o

hammer. She slammed the phone face-down onto t

to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut. She forced her chest to rise a

k carpet absorbed the sound of Brook's

o the bed. He stood the

face. Her eyelids twitched with the biological urge to snap open, but s

her cheek, his fingers pushing a strand of blonde

y," he whispered. His voice drip

od cologne filled her nose. Her stomach he heave,

round and walked toward the massive wal

clera burned. The absolute terror in her chest evaporated,