The Exiled Heiress Makes Her Comeback

The heavy walnut door of the Mount Sinai VIP hospital room pushed open.

Ansley stepped inside. The harsh, sterile stench of bleach hit her first, immediately followed by the sickeningly sweet scent of expensive lilies. The combination made her stomach churn.

She walked past the privacy screen. Kegan lay on the hospital bed. Her usually vibrant face was the color of ash. Clear plastic IV tubes snaked out from the back of her pale hand, pumping fluids into her fragile veins.

Leo, the junior engineer, stepped forward. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. He didn't say a word. He just held out an iPad with a shattered screen.

Ansley looked down. The banking app was open. The company account balance showed a negative number in glaring red font. Below it was the final foreclosure notice from the bank.

Suddenly, a text message from Cade Vance popped up at the top of the cracked screen.

Tell Kegan her algorithm is going to make a great stepping stone for my new company. Thanks for the hard work, losers.

Ansley's pupils contracted. Her fingers gripped the edges of the iPad so hard her knuckles turned completely white. The sharp, broken glass bit into her thumb, but she didn't feel the pain.

A violent coughing fit erupted from the bed. Kegan's thin frame shook uncontrollably. She reached over with her free hand and grabbed the IV tubes, her fingers trembling as she tried to rip the needles out of her skin.

"It's over," Kegan rasped, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes and soaking into the white pillowcase. "We're done."

Ansley dropped the iPad onto a nearby chair. She lunged forward. She pressed both of her hands down on Kegan's bony shoulders, pinning her to the mattress.

"Stop it," Ansley ordered. Her voice was low, but it left no room for argument.

Kegan squeezed her eyes shut. A sob tore through her throat.

Ansley took a deep breath. She let go of Kegan's shoulders. She reached into her Birkin bag and pulled out her own phone.

Her fingers moved rapidly across the screen, typing in a complex string of passwords. She opened the private wealth management portal of UBS.

The screen loaded. It displayed a family trust account under her name. It was an account Arthur Holcomb had punitively frozen five years ago when she was exiled to Europe at eighteen. It had just automatically unlocked last week on her twenty-third birthday, a legal technicality the family office had somehow overlooked.

Ansley's thumb hovered over the screen, trembling so violently she could barely keep the phone steady. She was terrified. Touching this money meant stepping back into a world that had nearly destroyed her. But as Kegan let out another agonizing cough, Ansley squeezed her eyes shut, a hot tear slipping down her cheek. She tapped the button for an international wire transfer.

She typed in the corporate routing number for Aura Aerospace. In the amount box, she typed a one