STIGMA

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

Xiao Hong Mao

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

Modern Revenge

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Running through the empty halls， I race against the clock to reach my classroom on time. Stupid alarm clock...it was the sixth clock this month I“d unknowingly smashed to bits this month alone. Mum keeps on saying I pushed it off of the nightstand but I don“t see how it melted into a liquid this morning.

Turning the dial on my locker， quickly getting frustrated when the door won“t open， I stand back and run my shoulder into the rusty door. The door creaks open， rubbing my shoulder， I put in my jacket， my school bag and take out my things.

Slamming the door shut， I run to the second level for my first lesson， Chemistry with Mr Banks. I round the corner rushing to the last classroom down the hall. Not looking where I“m going， I slam head first into a wall and I fly back a few meters， groaning， I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Hey!" A deep enchanting male voice murmurs from above me."You alright?"

Warm hazelnut brown eyes that are shining in excitement stare down at me， bulging muscles straining against his thin black T-shirt， a long-fingered hand stretched out towards me.

Taking it， I feel a jolt of electricity go down my spine spreading a warmness through me as it travels leaving little tingles in its wake.

"Oh!" I gasp as he pulls me to my feet， my small， 5 foot 4 frame against his probably 6 foot 2 body. My breasts pressed against his muscular chest， my cheeks heat up at this realisation. "Sorry."

"It“s alright，" he mutters， the excitement in his eyes fading replaced by a coldness.

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