As My Daughter Burned, He Lit Fireworks for Her
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
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Chapter 3
"I have a legal right to those records."
Elinor leaned over the counter of the hospital administration office, her knuckles white against the laminate surface.
The administrator, a woman with steel-gray hair and a stiff posture, didn't blink. "Mrs. Grant, I've explained this. The HIPAA Privacy Rule prohibits us from releasing patient allocation data to unauthorized individuals. Even to family members of the deceased."
"I am her mother," Elinor said, her voice rising. "And a donor kidney was diverted from my daughter. I want to know who authorized it."
The woman's expression remained impassive. "If you have a legal grievance, you need to submit form 104-B to the compliance department. Security!"
Two large men in dark uniforms stepped forward, positioning themselves behind Elinor. One of them gestured to the door. "Ma'am, it's time to leave."
Elinor wanted to scream. She wanted to reach across the desk and shake the smug compliance off the woman's face. But she knew it was useless. The system was built to keep people like her out.
She turned and walked out into the corridor, her heels clicking against the linoleum. She felt the locket bounce against her chest with every step, a cold reminder of why she was here.
She nearly collided with Dr. Evan Cole.
He was walking quickly, his head down, a tablet clutched to his chest. He looked up, saw her, and froze.
"Dr. Cole," Elinor said, stepping into his path. "Why was Cece's surgery canceled?"
Cole's eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape route. "Mrs. Grant, I am so sorry for your loss. But I can't discuss patient care in the hallway."
"Was it the transplant committee?" Elinor pressed, moving closer. "Did someone else take her kidney?"
Cole's face drained of color. He took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet. "The committee makes decisions based on medical urgency and compatibility. That's all I can say."
"Did Kamryn Turner take it?" Elinor demanded. "Did she use her connections to jump the line?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cole stammered. He sidestepped her, breaking into a near-jog down the hall.
"Tell me!" Elinor chased after him, but he disappeared through a set of restricted doors, the lock clicking shut behind him.
Elinor stood there, breathing hard, her fists clenched at her sides. The anger was a living thing inside her, clawing to get out. She turned away from the doors and walked toward the main lobby.
She stopped dead.
The lobby was bright, filled with the afternoon sun streaming through the glass walls. In the center seating area, Derick was sitting on a plush sofa. He was holding the hand of a little girl-Kiana. Kamryn was beside him, her body angled toward his, her hand resting on his thigh.
Kiana was holding a bright red balloon. She was laughing, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright. She looked healthy. Vibrant. Alive.
Elinor's stomach lurched. The contrast was a physical assault. Cece in her hospital bed, blue and gasping, versus this child, sitting where Derick could see her, touch her.
Kamryn looked up. Her eyes met Elinor's across the room. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. She leaned in close to Kiana, her voice carrying across the quiet lobby.
"Look, sweetie," Kamryn said, loud enough for Elinor to hear. "That crazy woman is here again."
Derick's head snapped up. His gaze locked onto Elinor. The warmth in his eyes from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a hard, warning glare.
Elinor walked toward them. Her legs felt like lead, but her rage propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes burning into Kamryn.
Kamryn shrank back, pressing herself against Derick's side. "Derick, please. She's scaring me."
"Stay away from us, Elinor," Derick said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't make a scene."
"Did you take it?" Elinor asked, ignoring him, her focus solely on Kamryn. "Did you steal my daughter's chance to live?"
Kamryn's face crumpled into a mask of injured innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about! Why are you doing this?"
"She's bloodthirsty," Derick snarled, standing up. He positioned himself between Elinor and Kamryn, a human shield. "You're attacking an innocent woman because you're bitter."
"Innocent?" Elinor let out a harsh laugh. "She is not your family, Derick. She is a liar."
"She is more family than you've ever been," Derick shot back.
The words hit Elinor like a slap. The coldness that had settled in her chest since the crematorium spread, freezing her veins.
A few nurses and visitors had stopped, watching the confrontation with open curiosity. Whispers rippled through the lobby.
Kamryn peeked around Derick's shoulder. She looked directly at Elinor and mouthed two words: You lose.
The rage exploded. Elinor lunged forward, her arm raising, a finger pointing at Kamryn's face. "You stole from her! You let her die!"
Derick moved faster than she anticipated. He grabbed Elinor's wrist before she could reach Kamryn, his fingers closing around the bone like a vise.
"Don't touch her," Derick growled.
Pain shot up Elinor's arm. His grip was bruising, crushing. She looked down at his white-knuckled hand, then up at his face. There was no love there. No concern. Only fury and possession.
She tried to yank her arm back, but he held tight, his fingers digging into her skin, leaving angry red marks.
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8.9
I was tossed into a dark alley like rotting garbage, bleeding and grieving the child I had just lost.
When I was finally brought back to my fiancé Angelo's penthouse, instead of comfort, I was met with absolute disgust.
His family declared me "unclean" after the kidnapping. Angelo coldly announced he was burying the scandal by marrying my sweet, innocent cousin, Carissa.
When we were alone, Carissa stood over my bed, her voice dripping with venomous delight.
"My father arranged the kidnapping. And now, Angelo and I can finally be together."
Before I could react, she forced a silver letter opener into my hand, deliberately stabbed her own shoulder, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Angelo stormed in, struck me across the face, and gathered a sobbing Carissa into his arms, looking at me with absolute revulsion.
The family matriarch appeared at the door, her cold eyes sweeping over the scene before she gave a chilling order to the maids.
"Clean this up."
They pinned me down and brutally drove the blade directly into my chest.
I choked on my own blood, staring at the man who had promised me the world as he turned his back, calling my murder a "mercy."
As my heart beat its final agonizing rhythm, I made a silent vow to the shadows that if there was a next life, I would have my vendetta.
When I opened my eyes again, there was no blood, only the soft silk of my nightgown.
I had returned to the day before my eighteenth birthday.
This time, I wouldn't play the desperate victim. I was going to ally with the Devil of Chicago and burn them all to the ground.
9.7
For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace.
Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door.
The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own.
My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table.
"Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered.
My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate.
They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal.
I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for.
I didn't scream, and I didn't cry.
I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods.
Let them see how long they survive without my money.
8.8
Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live.
She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days.
But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick.
He only loved Seraphina.
To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table.
When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting.
Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress.
"I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company."
Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died.
She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality.
Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer.
"Julian, initiate the final plan."
Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body.
8.8
I was the despised adopted daughter of the Sanders family, hiding behind heavy gothic makeup and enduring their daily disgust.
The day my adoptive father died in a severe car crash, my adoptive mother and stepsister didn't even bother to call me.
Instead, while his body was still warm, my mother filed a multi-million dollar life insurance claim.
"I am not feeding a useless freak for another day. Pack your trash and get out."
She kicked me out into the freezing rain, but that wasn't the worst of it.
My stepsister Cornelia stole my greatest secret. Five years ago, I saved the life of Fidel Vaughan, a ruthless billionaire heir, from a burning estate.
Cornelia claimed my identity, accepted a million-dollar reward, and secured a marriage proposal from him, burning my only proof to ashes.
They thought I was just a helpless, pathetic high schooler they could discard and replace.
But when I hacked the police files, I discovered my father's crash wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit, and the Vaughan Group had hijacked the traffic cameras to cover it up.
I washed off the ugly black makeup, shedding the disguise of a pathetic outcast.
I am Spectre, the world's most elusive hacker and underground doctor.
I intercepted the billionaire heir's heavily armed convoy in the dead of night. They thought they could steal my life and murder my father, but now, I hold the needle that controls Fidel Vaughan's sanity, and I will make them all pay.
9.5
I woke up gasping from a nightmare of flames devouring Chandler Finch's estate, my body wrapped in burning curtains as I died alone.
But my eyes opened to silk sheets in his penthouse master bedroom. He was alive beside me, his cedarwood scent real. This was my second chance—I'd been reborn.
His phone buzzed: Eugenia Stewart's "emergency." Her security detail reported her refusing meals, unstable. Chandler bolted without a glance, rushing to her side.
I signed the brutal cohabitation contract binding me to him, but Temperance had planted birth control pills in the trash—a trap to frame me. Chandler found them, exploded in jealous rage, crushing the pills to dust. "No child unless it's mine," he growled, possessive fire in his eyes.
Brett, Eugenia's lapdog, stormed in later, accusing me of manipulation. I fired back: Chandler demanded my womb for his heir. Brett paled, fled to tattle.
Then the storm hit—power outage, locked on the terrace in pouring rain, freezing as Eugenia faked an asthma attack on Chandler's line, stealing his focus again. I hung up, huddled with a stray puppy, nearly dying from hypothermia.
He'd never believed me before—Eugenia's lies always won, dooming me to isolation and fire. Why did her every whimper trump my screams? How could he be so blind?
This time, reborn weeks before the inferno, I wouldn't beg. I'd play his game, shatter Eugenia's web, and make Chandler mine—before the flames returned.
8.0
She has thirty days. Ten billion dollars. And a quantum space that can swallow anything.
Kinsey Elliott died cold, starving, and betrayed—pushed into a frozen abyss by the uncle who stole her fortune.
Then she woke up.
Back in her penthouse. Back in her perfect body. Back with a silver mark on her wrist that lets her store entire warehouses of supplies in a dimension where time stands still.
The world has thirty days until a global ice age freezes everything.
Her family has thirty days to try to lock her away, steal her money, and have her killed.
And Kinsey? She has thirty days to turn ten billion dollars into an invisible fortress—and burn every last one of them to the ground.
She's not surviving the apocalypse.
She's building it.