Reborn Heiress: The Tyrant's Secret Obsession

The icy rain of the Seattle storm sliced through the night, but Bryn Callahan couldn't feel the cold.

She hovered in the air, a translucent soul staring down at the fresh granite tombstone. It had only been three days since they put her in the ground.

She reached out. She tried to trace the carved letters of her own name on the wet stone. Her pale, see-through fingertips passed right through the solid granite, grasping nothing but empty air.

A violent wave of resentment twisted in her nonexistent stomach. She felt an overwhelming surge of helplessness, a bitter realization that she was nothing more than a powerless spectator to her own tragic aftermath.

She closed her eyes and saw the edge of the cliff. She felt Keifer's hands-the hands she had held a thousand times-shoving her hard against the chest.

She clutched her chest now, her breathing ragged even though she had no lungs. Fabiola's mocking laughter echoed in her ears, the sound of her adopted sister standing on that cliff, telling Bryn she died with absolutely nothing.

A heavy engine roared in the distance.

Two blinding beams of light tore through the darkness of the cemetery. Bryn's head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed through the thick curtain of rain.

A black Maybach idled aggressively outside the wrought-iron gates.

The driver's door flew open. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped straight into the thick mud. He didn't even bother with an umbrella.

Lightning flashed. The harsh white light illuminated his sharp jawline and his bloodshot, furious eyes.

Dominic Hutchinson.

Bryn floated backward, her mind spinning. Dominic was the tyrant of her high school, the boy who made it his mission to make her life a living hell. Why was he here?

Dominic marched straight toward her grave. He didn't pause to mourn. He didn't bow his head. He walked to the trunk of his car and pulled out a heavy steel shovel.

Bryn screamed at him. She demanded to know if he hated her so much that he had to desecrate her grave.

A crack of thunder drowned out her voice entirely.

Dominic raised the shovel high above his head. He drove the metal blade violently into the fresh turf in front of her headstone. Mud splattered across his expensive, custom-tailored suit.

He dug like a madman. He didn't speak. His chest heaved with every brutal thrust of the shovel into the earth.

Bryn threw herself at him. She tried to grab the wooden handle of the shovel, but her body phased right through his solid forearms. She could only watch as he destroyed her final resting place.

Rainwater poured down Dominic's pale face. His perfectly styled black hair was plastered to his forehead in a messy, chaotic tangle. He looked completely feral.

The metal shovel struck the concrete burial vault with a sickening scrape.

Dominic threw the shovel aside. He dropped to his knees in the pooling water. He didn't care about the filth. He used his bare hands to