Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

Chapter 4

Word Count: 738 | Released on: 07/05/2026

clinic door let o

and rubbing alcohol hitting her lungs. She walked straight do

His white hair was a mess. When he saw her, the dee

eavy jacket, tossed it onto a plastic chair, and rolled up t

o her skin pulsed with a

pressed the metal tip hard against her carotid ar

voice shaking. "Your core temp is lethal. You keep

going back to Aethelgard. I do

lgard... one of your old contacts from Langley sent a ghost signal. He intercepted chat

e room droppe

Her chest tightened so

r from Alistair's hand and sh

arned, her voice a low rasp. "I

ed lockbox and pulled out a glass vial filled with

re dying," he

the hidden pocket inside her jacket,

open, stepping out into

sion caught a fla

reet, half-hidden in the shadow of an old oak tree, was a black SUV

at the corner of her

slow, deliberate steps straight across the stre

red in his chest. His hand dropped to his waist,

ommanded from the back

nst the roof. She leaned down, putting her face inches

ierce and locked eyes w

son said, voice dripping with boredom. "That

pped. His hand f

at slight bulge under your left lapel? Secret Servi

ened. His heart g

tone mocking. "You only find that specific soil composition near Quanti

t and slapped the ro

s in my town," she sne

lked away, posture relax

hroat dry. "Who the hell is

was rushing in his ears. "Spies don't blow the

buzzed in his hand. He

NE CREEK GA

S ENCRYPTION.

owly twisted the black ring on his pinky finger.

Washington," he orde

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

Breenda Modern

“Allison was hiding in a dusty small-town garage, working as a mechanic to suppress the lethal, experimental serum freezing her veins. But a call from her estranged, wealthy father shattered her peace. He threatened to permanently freeze her dead mother's trust fund if she didn't return to the family estate immediately. That trust fund held the only key to the truth behind her past and her survival. When she stepped into the sprawling mansion in her faded hoodie, her family treated her like a stray dog. Her stepmother mocked her cheap clothes, and her half-brother called her a piece of trash. Her father tossed a vocational school enrollment form at her, telling her to learn to sew so they could marry her off to anyone desperate enough. Her perfect, porcelain-doll stepsister Gwyneth even deliberately smashed a glass of boiling milk against her own leg. "Why did you push me?!" Gwyneth screamed, crying tears of fake terror to frame Allison. "You vicious bitch! You're just as sick as your mother!" her father roared, raising his hand to strike her. They looked at her with absolute disgust, thinking she was just a stupid, uncultured hick they could easily manipulate and destroy. They had no idea that the girl standing before them was a lethal operative who already possessed all their offshore tax ledgers and darkest secrets. Allison easily caught her father's wrist mid-air, her grip like a steel vice. "I'm not going to a trade school," she whispered coldly, ripping the form into pieces. "I am going to Crestwood Academy." It was time to take back everything that belonged to her, with interest.”