Reborn Heiress: The Vicious Comeback

I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness. But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C. In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate. My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer. They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career. "Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly." That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much. Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat? Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image? Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished. I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023. It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes. This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.

Chapters

Chapter 6

The Gulfstream's tires slammed onto the tarmac at Dulles International Airport. The heavy scent of jet fuel and humid D. C. air flooded the cabin as the door opened.

Carma stood at the top of the stairs.

Three black Lincoln Navigators were parked in a semi-circle at the bottom. The Kirk family butler stood waiting, flanked by four broad-shouldered fixers.

"Miss Kirk," the butler called out, his tone flat and commanding. "The Senator expects you in the center vehicle immediately."

Carma adjusted her oversized sunglasses. She didn't move a single muscle.

Corbin peeked out from behind her, saw the family guards, and shrank back into the cabin shadows.

The butler narrowed his eyes. He flicked his wrist. Two of the fixers started marching up the metal stairs.

A piercing siren shattered the noise of the runway.

Two massive, armored Cadillac Escalades with federal government plates tore through the security checkpoint. They didn't slow down. The lead Escalade whipped into a violent slide, cutting off the Lincolns and blocking the stairs completely.

The doors flew open. Eight men in tailored black suits and tactical earpieces poured out. They formed a solid wall of muscle between the Kirk guards and the stairs.

Lawson's Chief of Staff stepped out of the second vehicle. He adjusted his silk tie and looked up at Carma.

"Miss Kirk," he said, his voice echoing across the tarmac. "Senate Majority Leader Lawson has requested your presence at her residence."

The Kirk butler stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. "This is a private family matter. Step aside."

The Chief of Staff pulled a folded document from his jacket. He slapped it hard against the butler's chest. "Emergency protective order. Signed by a federal judge ten minutes ago."

The Secret Service-level agents simultaneously rested their hands on the grips of their holstered weapons. The metallic click of holsters unstrapping made the Kirk guards freeze and step back.

Carma walked down the stairs. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the metal. She didn't even glance at the furious butler.

She slid into the back of the armored Cadillac. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing her in absolute silence.

The convoy sped away, leaving the Kirk family vehicles eating their exhaust.

Carma pulled off her sunglasses. She sank into the plush leather. In her past life, she had been shoved into that Lincoln and driven straight into Johnie's torture chamber. This time, she had rewritten the script.

The Escalades pulled up to a massive iron gate in Georgetown. The gates swung open, revealing a fortress-like mansion heavily guarded by armed security.

Carma stepped out of the car. She forced her breathing to become shallow and rapid.

The heavy oak front doors opened. Senator Lawson stood in the foyer. She wore a sharp, navy-blue power suit. She radiated absolute, terrifying authority.

Lawson looked at Carma's pale, thin frame. A flicker of genuine pity crossed the older woman's hardened features.

Carma let a single tear spill over her eyelashes. She stumbled forward, her shoulders shaking, and buried her face into Lawson's shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

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