The Wronged Heiress’ Revenge

"You vile witch! I’m gonna make sure you join my son in the grave today!"

The shrill scream rang in Zara Powell’s ears right before a boot connected with her ribs, sending her sprawling back into the edge of the dining table. She curled in on herself instinctively, shielding her abdomen with both arms and ignoring the searing pain screaming up her spine. "It really was self-defense when I killed Watson Rivera! The court ruled it, they found me not guilty! You can’t just go taking the law into your own hands like this."

Cataleya Rivera, clutching a sobbing Ailani Rivera to her chest, spat her words like poison right at Zara’s feet.

"Ha! Don’t kid yourself—we know exactly how much the Powells paid your lawyer. And who even knows what else you gave him for that verdict! The law failed our family, but even if it costs me my life, you’re gonna pay for what you did today!"

Cataleya’s eyes blazed with raw fury. She snatched a paring knife off the counter and lunged straight for Zara.

"Bang!"

The front door flew open off its hinges.

Cataleya froze mid-step, spinning around to see who’d burst in.

Zara lifted her head and caught sight of Samir Powell stepping over the threshold. It was like seeing a flicker of lightning cut through a dreadful, pitch-black night. Her throat tightened, emotion clogging her words before she could even speak. "Samir, tell them I didn’t mean to kill Watson. You’re the only one who believes me, right?"

The cold, imposing man walked straight toward her, then sank to one knee in front of her.

Zara reached out, aching to throw herself into his arms. She’d spent three days locked in jail, living every second paralyzed by fear and anxiety, and finally the court had set her free. She’d barely made it out, and here he was.

Her hand stretched out… but before she could even brush his shirt, a hard, brutal hand clamped around her throat.

Samir’s fingers squeezed tight, no mercy at all, cutting off her air.

His voice was ice-cold, stripped of every scrap of warmth it had ever held for her. "How dare you walk out of that place alive?"

Zara’s eyes blew wide open. She couldn’t believe the violent stranger staring down at her. The suffocating feeling swallowed her whole, but she pushed past the black spots dancing at the edges of her vision, voice raw and desperate. "The court cleared me—it was self-defense… I have the ruling right here, Samir, it’s in my pocket. Let me show you."

To her shock, Samir let go.

A tiny flicker of hope sparked in Zara’s chest. She fumbled frantically in her pocket, pulled out the folded court document, and shoved it at him.

He didn’t even glance at it. He struck a lighter, set the whole paper on fire, and tossed the burning scrap straight onto Zara’s dress.

Her pale, flowy Victorian-style dress burst into a small blaze instantly, leaving a