Reborn Heiress: Marrying The Disabled Billionaire

The shove was brutally simple.

One moment, the cold metal of the balcony railing was against Cordelia Webster's back.The next, there was only air.

The glittering expanse of the New York City skyline tilted violently, a sea of indifferent lights rushing up to meet her. Wind screamed in her ears, whipping her hair across her face, stealing the breath she was trying to gasp.Her last sight as she tumbled over the edge was of them.

Her fiancé, Hays Lyons, his handsome face a mask of cold indifference. And her step-sister, Kasey Pugh, a triumphant, ugly smirk twisting her pretty features. They stood side-by-side, framed against the warm light of the penthouse living room, a perfect picture of betrayal.

Kasey's shrill laugh cut through the wind. "Everything that belongs to the Websters is mine now, sister!"

Hays's voice followed, devoid of any emotion. "Don't blame us. You were just in the way."

The words hit her harder than the fall itself. A fractured slideshow of memories flashed behind her eyes: Hays slipping the engagement ring on her finger, his eyes promising forever; Kasey hugging her, whispering how happy she was for them; the three of them touring this very penthouse, their future home. Lies. It was all a meticulously crafted lie.

A gut-wrenching nausea seized her, a physical sickness born of pure, undiluted hatred. She wanted to scream, to curse them, but her lungs were empty. The air was a solid wall she was hurtling towards.

The impact was a universe of pain.

Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. Her last coherent thought was a wave of crushing regret. Regret for her own stupidity, for trusting them, for disappointing the grandfather who had left her everything.

One more chance, a silent scream tore through her fading consciousness. Just one more chance.

The darkness consumed her.

Then, a blinding white light.

Cordelia's eyes flew open. She gasped, a ragged, desperate sound, her chest heaving. The feeling of soft sheets, not broken concrete, was beneath her. The scent of lavender and clean linen, not blood, filled her nostrils.

She shot up, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She was in her bedroom in the Webster family mansion. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the heavy curtains. She frantically ran her hands over her body. No pain. No blood.

Her trembling fingers fumbled for the phone on her nightstand. The screen lit up, displaying the date.

It was a week before her wedding.

A choked, hysterical laugh escaped her lips. It was real. She was back.

Today. Today was the day the announcement of her engagement party was scheduled to be published in the society pages. A cold, hard certainty settled in her gut, displacing the panic. She knew, with the chilling clarity of experience, that tonight, Hays and Kasey would be at the Pinnacle Penthouse. In their bed.

A fire, cold and vengeful, began to burn in her veins. This time, there would be no balcony, no fall. This time, she would be the one pushing.

The phone buzzed in her hand. A text from Hays.

'Morning, beautiful. Can't wait for tonight's announcement.'

The casual hypocrisy made her stomach churn. Kasey's innocent-looking face swam in her mind, the face of a viper hiding behind a sweet smile. Exposing them was just the beginning. She would take back everything. Her company, her name, her life.

But she couldn't do it alone. Her father, Harrison, was blinded by his second wife, Melissa-Kasey's mother. The company, Webster Enterprises, was riddled with people loyal to them. She needed an ally. A powerful one.

A name surfaced from the depths of her memory. Evander Hawthorne.

A man she'd only heard of in her past life, the reclusive, marginalized heir to the Hawthorne fortune. She remembered a news report, a small article buried in the business section. A chemical plant explosion on the outskirts of the city. The Hawthorne convoy had been caught in the blast.

Today. It was happening today.

This was her chance. Her only chance to reach the one man in New York whose power could rival the Lyons family.

She swung her legs out of bed, the sudden movement making her head spin for a second. She steadied herself against the nightstand, her reflection in the vanity mirror showing a girl she barely recognized. The naive optimism was gone from her eyes, replaced by a chillingly sharp focus.

She deleted Hays's message without a reply. Then, she dialed the number for the family's head of security.

Her voice was steady, cold as ice. "I need a car. Unmarked. Now."

Her mission was no longer to be a happy bride. It was to become a queen of vengeance.