The Orphan Heiress: Reclaiming My Stolen Life

Elena Jefferson snapped her eyes open, her spine pressed flat against the freezing concrete floor of the underground wine cellar. The damp air smelled of rotting moss and old oak barrels.

She raised her pale right hand and pressed her palm against her lower right abdomen. The skin under her shirt was completely smooth. Her fingers froze. There were no thick surgical stitches, and the tearing agony of having her kidney carved out without enough anesthesia was gone.

Memories of her death flooded her brain, making her stomach churn. She remembered the blinding operating lights in the illegal underground clinic and the sharp stench of antiseptic. Above the hum of the machines, her adoptive father Alonza Hendrix had spoken in a cold, flat voice.

"Carley needs a healthy kidney, Elena. This is your only chance to repay the Hendrix family for taking you in from the orphanage."

They had drugged the water she drank, waited until she collapsed unconscious, and only then had they found their chance to strap her down and cut out her kidney. Her own people-the ones she trusted-had been bought off by the family to slip the sedative into her cup. They had drained her bone marrow stem cells dry, and Carley Hendrix had stood at the top of Manhattan high society, smiling as she claimed Elena's biomedical research as her own.

Elena had spent years as a military doctor, serving in field hospitals and combat zones, and she had never once imagined her own family would be the ones to drug her and carve her up on an operating table. And in the end, it wasn't the surgery that killed her-it was the infection that crept into the wound afterward. They had cut her open on a filthy table with tools that weren't sterile, and when the fever came, no one came to save her. She had died alone, rotting from the inside out.

Elena pushed herself up into a sitting position. She rubbed her chin with her index finger, feeling the rough calluses along her thumb web-marks left from years of gripping microsurgical needles as the hidden founder of Verdan Biopharma. Her heart beat steady and strong against her ribs.

She looked around the dark cellar. Pale moonlight filtered through a small iron-barred vent near the ceiling, casting long shadows over dusty wine racks. She knew this exact night. She was twenty years old. Three days ago, Carley had thrown herself into the estate fountain and blamed Elena for pushing her out of jealousy, prompting Alonza to lock Elena down here. For three days, they had given her nothing but one hard piece of bread and half a cup of water a day.

She was actually back at twenty.

Heavy leather shoes clicked against the stone steps outside the iron door. A ring of brass keys jingled sharply.

The heavy carved oak door swung open with a loud creak. Evans, the estate butler, stepped inside holding a brass lantern. He stopped at the top of the short stairs, looking down at her with open disgust while pressing a white handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

"Miss Elena," Evans said, his voice dripping with smug condescension. "Mr. Hendrix told me to inform you that your three days of reflection are up. I suggest you act smart tonight."

Elena leaned her shoulder against the rough stone wall and lifted her eyelids. Her dark brown eyes were completely still in the dim light.

Evans frowned, shifting his weight uncomfortably under her unblinking stare. He sharpened his tone. "Miss Carley's fever just broke after the shock you gave her. The Master and Madam are waiting in the main hall for you to kneel and apologize."

A faint, mocking smile touched the corner of Elena's dry lips. Her throat was raspy from three days without water, yet her voice cut through the damp air.

"Apologize to her? For her terrible diving form, or for making sure she landed in the shallow end of the fountain?"

Evans's face twisted. He slammed his metal tray against the edge of an oak barrel. "Watch your mouth! You are nothing but an orphan charity case. Staying under the Hendrix roof is a blessing you don't deserve!"

Elena pushed off the wall and stood up straight. Even after three days in the freezing dark, her tall, slender frame moved with the lethal grace of a predator. She brushed the gray dust off her faded jeans.

"Skill issue," Elena said flatly. "Using a cheap trick like that to frame someone is pathetic, and you people eat it right up."

Evans turned purple, pointing a shaking finger at her nose. "Unrepentant brat! Three days in the dark clearly didn't teach you your place!"

Elena didn't spare him another glance. She walked up the wooden steps with steady, heavy strides. Her cold presence forced the old butler to take a stumbling step back against the doorframe.

Pausing at the threshold, Elena turned her head and looked at Evans as if he were already a corpse.

"Lead the way," Elena said. "I want to see what kind of circus they set up for me in the main hall."

Evans swallowed hard, a cold chill running down his spine. He clenched his jaw and hurried ahead down the narrow underground passage.

Their footsteps echoed off the stone tiles as they climbed the spiral staircase to the first floor. Warm air hit Elena's face, carrying the heavy scent of Alonza's Cuban cigars and expensive white lilies. Elena felt her pocket-there was nothing in it but a small case of needles, the ones she had used to secretly teach herself acupuncture when she was twenty.

Ahead of them, soft sobbing and gentle, comforting murmurs drifted through the cracked walnut double doors of the main hall.

Evans straightened his vest and knocked lightly. "Sir, Madam, I have brought Miss Elena."

The murmuring inside stopped dead. A crystal glass hit a wooden tabletop with a sharp crack. Two maids pulled the heavy doors open, and blinding light from the massive Swarovski chandelier spilled out as Elena stepped across the threshold and swept her icy gaze over the Hendrix family sitting on the leather sofas.