Reborn Heiress: The Shadow Regent's Obsession

The sound of the dirt hitting the casket was rhythmic. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was a polite sound, much like the polite tears streaming down Senator Ellwood's face. He dabbed at his eyes with a pristine white handkerchief, posing for the cameras flashing behind the police barricade. Her stepmother, Carroll, stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, looking every bit the grieving mother.

But Ali wasn't in the box.

She was floating above it, a tethered consciousness, watching the farce of her own funeral. The rain in D.C. was always cold, but she couldn't feel it anymore. She was nothing but a ghost, forced to witness the aftermath of her own murder.

The scene shifted, dissolving like ink in water. The cemetery vanished.

She was now inside a high-rise office overlooking the Capitol. The air here smelled of copper and ozone.

Isadore Walker sat behind his desk.

He looked nothing like the man she remembered. The pristine, cold arrogance was gone. His white dress shirt was stained crimson at the cuffs. His eyes, usually sharp enough to cut glass, were hollow. Dead.

He tapped a key on his laptop. The screen flashed red.

DEAD HAND SYSTEM: ACTIVATED.

Lines of code cascaded down the monitor. Bank accounts belonging to the Lancaster family, the Collins family-everyone who had played a part in her downfall-were zeroing out in real-time. Billions of dollars, evaporating into the digital void.

A whimper came from the floor.

Ali looked down. Senator Ellwood was on his knees, his expensive suit ruined, begging.

"Please, Isadore... I didn't know... I swear..."

Isadore didn't blink. He didn't speak. He simply raised a matte black pistol and fired.

The shot took Ellwood in the kneecap. The scream was silent to her ghostly ears, but the agony on his face was vivid.

She stared at Isadore. Why? Why was he doing this? He was the Shadow Regent, the man who moved pieces on the political board with dispassionate logic. He had never shown her anything but polite indifference.

Isadore ignored the bleeding man. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, shimmering object.

Her necklace.

The unassuming silver chain with the koi fish pendant. She thought she had lost it years ago.

He brought it to his lips, his eyes closing for a fraction of a second. A tremor ran through his hand, the only sign of the storm raging inside him.

"Little Fish," he whispered.

The nickname hit her soul like a physical blow. No one called her that. Only a ghost from a childhood she could barely remember.

Sirens wailed outside. Blue and red lights washed over the walls. The SWAT team was breaching the building.

Isadore didn't move to escape. He looked like a king who had lost his kingdom, and was now content to burn the empty throne. He looked at the C4 charges rigged around the room. His finger hovered over the detonator.

"No," she screamed, her voice soundless. "Isadore, don't!"

He pressed the