Reborn Heiress: Dragging Traitors To Hell

The world was a symphony of agony, played on the strings of my own body. I was tied to a chair in a damp basement, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth as my fingernails were ripped from their beds by a pair of rusty pliers. My best friend, Corrine, stepped into the flickering light wearing my favorite Chanel suit and the engagement ring that was supposed to be mine. Beside her, my fiancé Aldo held the pliers, his voice smooth and cultured as he demanded I sign over my entire inheritance to them. As I struggled, a news report flashed on an old TV in the corner: Hunter Gallagher, the man I had treated like dirt but who had always tried to protect me, was dead in a horrific car explosion. Corrine laughed, whispering in my ear that they had lured him to his death using a fake kidnapping tip. He died trying to save me from a trap set by the people I trusted most. They didn't just want my money; they wanted to erase me. They plunged a needle full of heroin into my neck, watching with cold, mocking eyes as my heart hammered against my ribs and finally seized into nothingness. I died in that basement, a blind, spoiled girl who had let her true protector be murdered. As the darkness closed in, my soul burned with a single, silent vow: If I ever get another life, I will drag you both to hell with me. Suddenly, I gasped for air, my lungs fighting against a weight that wasn't there. I wasn't in the basement; I was in my own bed, my fingernails intact and my skin unbroken. I checked my phone, and my heart stopped—it was May 20th, exactly one year before my death. Hunter was still alive, and this time, I wasn't the prey.

Chapters

Chapter 4

Kaycee parked the car away from the front entrance, killing the engine. The silence of the woods was immediate and oppressive.

She stepped out, the gravel biting into the thin soles of her shoes. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

She walked towards the light. The study had floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the glass, she could see him.

Hunter was sitting in a leather armchair, his back to the window. A glass of amber liquid sat on the table beside him. His jacket was gone, his tie loosened, the top buttons of his white shirt undone.

He looked exhausted. Even from behind, the slump of his shoulders spoke of a bone-deep weariness.

Kaycee walked to the side door. She tried the handle. Locked.

She moved to the window. Hunter had a habit of leaving the latch undone on the window facing the river; he liked the sound of the water. It wasn't a flaw in the lock, but a crack in his armor-a small vulnerability she knew only because she knew the man inside.

She slid her fingers under the sash and lifted. It yielded to her touch, sliding open with a soft exhale.

She stepped inside.

The room smelled of cedarwood, old paper, and expensive scotch. It was a masculine scent, comforting and terrifying all at once.

Her bare feet made no sound on the Persian rug. She crept closer.

Hunter didn't move. He swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at the wall.

"I should just let them have it," he muttered to himself. His voice was low, rough like gravel. "Let them take the trust fund. Maybe then she'll be happy."

Kaycee froze. He was talking about her. He was thinking about giving up his leverage, giving up the only thing that kept Aldo from draining her accounts dry, just to make her happy.

A sob caught in her throat. She choked it back, but the sound escaped-a tiny, wounded noise.

Hunter spun around in his chair. His reflexes were cat-like. In a split second, he was on his feet, the glass set down, his body angled for defense.

When he saw her, the aggression didn't leave his face. It morphed into confusion, then suspicion.

"Kaycee?"

He said her name like it was a question in a foreign language.

She stood there, shivering slightly in her black dress, her hands clutching her purse.

"Hi," she whispered.

Hunter's eyes narrowed. He scanned the room behind her, looking for accomplices. Looking for Aldo.

"How did you get in?" His voice was ice. "Did you bribe the security company? Or did you just guess?"

"I knew the code," she said.

He flinched. Just a tiny twitch of his eye, but she saw it. He knew she knew.

"What do you want?" He crossed his arms over his chest, creating a barrier. "If you're here to tell me what a disappointment I am for leaving the restaurant, save it. I got your text."

"I didn't send a text," Kaycee said, taking a step forward.

"Don't lie to me." He stepped back, maintaining the distance. "I saw it. 'Don't bother waiting. I have better things to do.'"

Kaycee felt a surge of anger towards Corrine. "That wasn't me. Corrine had my phone. Or she spoofed it."

Hunter let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Right. Because Corrine is the villain and you're just the innocent victim. Is that the narrative today?"

"Hunter, please."

She took another step. She was close enough now to see the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his jaw.

"Why are you here, Kaycee?" He sounded tired now. "Do you need money? Did Aldo max out the credit cards again? Just tell me the number. I'll write the check. Just... leave."

The dismissal hurt more than his anger. He expected her to be a leech. Because that's all she had shown him.

She dropped her purse on the floor.

"I don't want your money," she said firmly.

She closed the distance between them. Before he could retreat further, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

Hunter went rigid. His arms hovered in the air, unsure, afraid to touch her. He stood like a statue, his breath hitching in his chest.

"I'm here for you," she mumbled into his shirt. The cotton was warm and smelled of him. It was the best smell in the world.

"Kaycee..." His voice wavered. "Stop. Is this a game? Is Aldo recording this?"

She shook her head against his chest, tightening her grip. "No games. No Aldo. Just me."

She felt his heart beating against her cheek. It was racing. Fast. Erratic.

"Why?" he asked, the word stripped of all defenses.

"Because I almost lost you," she whispered, the truth slipping out before she could stop it. "Because I was blind. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Hunter's hands slowly, hesitantly, came down to rest on her shoulders. He didn't push her away. But he didn't hug her back. He held her there, suspended in his hesitation.

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