Reborn Heiress: The Wolf's Vengeance Deal

I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

Chapters

Chapter 9

The chaos was absolute.

Reporters had breached the security line.

Flashes were popping like strobes in a nightclub.

Elmore was trying to grab the microphone, but the sound guy-Basile's plant-had cut the feed.

Celeste walked back to Basile.

She placed a hand on his arm.

"Let him up," she said. "He's not worth dirtying your shoes."

Basile looked at her.

He slowly removed his foot from Bryce's chest.

Bryce scrambled backward, crab-walking away from them, gasping for air.

Celeste turned to the crowd.

She didn't need a microphone anymore.

The acoustics of the church carried her voice.

"Since we're all here," she said. "I have one more announcement."

She signaled the booth again.

The screen changed one last time.

A PDF document appeared.

It was stark. Official.

The Seal of the City of New York.

Certificate of Marriage.

Groom: Basile Delgado.

Bride: Celeste Franco.

Date: September 12th.

The gasp this time was louder than the one for the affair.

This wasn't just scandal.

This was business.

This was war.

Elmore stared at the screen.

His eyes bulged.

He did the math instantly.

The trust fund.

The grandmother's clause.

Upon marriage, Celeste Franco gains full control of her 15% stake.

"You..." Elmore pointed a shaking finger at her. "You gave him the shares?"

"I kept my shares, Father," Celeste said coldly. "But I merged my voting rights."

She leaned into Basile.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

It was a protective, possessive weight.

"Meet the new majority shareholder block of Franco Group," Celeste said.

A lawyer in a dark suit walked out from the sacristy.

It was Vance, Basile's head counsel.

He handed a stack of papers to Elmore.

"You've been served, Mr. Franco," Vance said cheerfully. "Audit starts Monday morning."

Elmore clutched his chest.

Ophelia was fanning herself, looking like she might faint for real this time.

Daniela was sobbing on the floor, her white dress stained with dirt.

Bryce was still on the ground, staring at the marriage certificate like it was his death warrant.

It was.

Celeste looked at the tableau of destruction.

She felt... light.

The crushing weight that had been on her chest since she woke up in the sanitarium was gone.

"I think we're done here," she said to Basile.

"Agreed," he said.

He took off his suit jacket.

He draped it over her shoulders.

It was warm.

It smelled like him.

"Let's go home, wife," he said.

He emphasized the word.

Wife.

They turned and walked back down the aisle.

The guests parted like the Red Sea.

No one dared to stop them.

No one dared to speak.

They walked out into the sunlight.

The air was fresh.

Celeste took a deep breath.

She had burned her life to the ground.

And from the ashes, she was going to build an empire.

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