The Comeback Heiress

The Comeback Heiress

Gavin

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My eyes flew open, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This wasn't just a nightmare; it was a horrifying memory-a visceral replay of my own brutal death. My inherited room was familiar, luxurious, yet the images flickering behind my eyelids were stark and terrifyingly real: a twisted metal car wreck, my own choked screams echoing in a silent void. Before that, the faces of those who had meticulously orchestrated my demise flashed into view. Izzy Vance, my father's "charity case," who wore my family's legacy and my triumphs like her own skin. Channing "Chad" Astor III, my indifferent fiancé, his eyes dismissing me as a mere stepping stone. Even my own brother, Harrison, looking right through me, his ruthless ambition a cold, sharp blade that cut me down. They hadn't just killed me; they had systematically dismantled my life, piece by hateful piece, before ending it all in a fiery crash that was no accident, but a calculated murder. And now, inexplicably, I was back. 21 again. On the precise day my public downfall began in that wretched past life. The day of the infamous "Starlight Seraph" necklace incident, the manufactured tantrum, and tailored narrative that branded me as jealous and unstable. The memory of their insidious treachery, of being utterly played, burned with an acidic clarity. Why was I sent back to this cruel inflection point? How could I have been so blind? The injustice was a suffocating shroud, but beneath it, a freezing rage began to ignite. But no. Not this time. This time, there would be no tears, no agonizing screams. This time, I would not just survive. This time, I would utterly win.

Introduction

My eyes flew open, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

This wasn't just a nightmare; it was a horrifying memory-a visceral replay of my own brutal death.

My inherited room was familiar, luxurious, yet the images flickering behind my eyelids were stark and terrifyingly real: a twisted metal car wreck, my own choked screams echoing in a silent void.

Before that, the faces of those who had meticulously orchestrated my demise flashed into view.

Izzy Vance, my father's "charity case," who wore my family's legacy and my triumphs like her own skin.

Channing "Chad" Astor III, my indifferent fiancé, his eyes dismissing me as a mere stepping stone.

Even my own brother, Harrison, looking right through me, his ruthless ambition a cold, sharp blade that cut me down.

They hadn't just killed me; they had systematically dismantled my life, piece by hateful piece, before ending it all in a fiery crash that was no accident, but a calculated murder.

And now, inexplicably, I was back.

21 again.

On the precise day my public downfall began in that wretched past life.

The day of the infamous "Starlight Seraph" necklace incident, the manufactured tantrum, and tailored narrative that branded me as jealous and unstable.

The memory of their insidious treachery, of being utterly played, burned with an acidic clarity.

Why was I sent back to this cruel inflection point?

How could I have been so blind?

The injustice was a suffocating shroud, but beneath it, a freezing rage began to ignite.

But no.

Not this time.

This time, there would be no tears, no agonizing screams.

This time, I would not just survive.

This time, I would utterly win.

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I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved. On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there. I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera. She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning. I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine. "She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad." My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family. "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you." The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

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