Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian

Smoke. Thick, black, suffocating smoke.

Antoinette Rasmussen gasped, her lungs burning as she dragged in a violent breath. Her eyes snapped open. There was no fire. There was no collapsing roof. Instead, the blinding, harsh sunlight of a Pennsylvania summer afternoon stabbed at her retinas.

She was standing on the manicured lawn outside the community church. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.

Her chest heaved. Cold sweat instantly soaked through the back of her heavy black mourning dress, making the fabric stick to her skin like a wet garbage bag.

"Antoinette? Honey, breathe."

The voice was soft, laced with a sickeningly fake concern.

A hand reached out, attempting to wrap around her trembling shoulder.

Antoinette smelled it before she fully processed the face. The sharp, overpowering scent of Fabian Cash's cloying cologne. The exact same cologne he wore the night he locked her in that burning house in her previous life. The memories hit her like a physical blow to the stomach.

A wave of pure, somatic nausea surged up her throat.

She didn't think. She just reacted.

Antoinette shoved him. Hard.

Fabian, completely caught off guard, stumbled backward. His expensive dress shoes slipped on the grass, and he barely caught his balance. A flash of genuine shock crossed his handsome face.

He quickly rearranged his features, pulling up that mask of deep, sorrowful devotion. He took a step forward, reaching for her again. "Antoinette, the grief is making you confused. Let me-"

"Don't touch me." Her voice was a raw, guttural scrape.

The sharp click of high heels sounded on the concrete path. Eleanor Vance, Fabian's mother, marched over. Her face was pinched into a tight scowl, ready to deploy her usual guilt trip.

"Antoinette Rasmussen, what is wrong with you?" Eleanor's voice was loud, designed to draw an audience. "My son has been nothing but a rock for you today. You are acting completely ungrateful."

Antoinette stared at the mother and son. The two people who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her didn't feel like an emotion. It felt like battery acid pumping through her veins, burning away every ounce of rational thought.

She didn't hesitate.

She raised her right hand, twisted her waist, and swung with every bit of strength she possessed.

Smack.

The sharp, explosive sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed across the quiet church lawn.

Fabian's head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint immediately began to bloom across his left cheek.

Dead silence fell over the lawn. Every neighbor, every guest who had been walking toward their cars, froze in their tracks.

Fabian slowly brought a hand to his burning face. His eyes locked onto hers, filled with a mixture of absolute disbelief and a dark, suppressed fury.

Whispers erupted. Neighbors pointed fingers, their eyes wide with scandal.

Eleanor let out a high-pitched shriek. She rushed forward, grabbing Fabian's arm as if he had been shot. "She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"

Antoinette let out a cold, hollow laugh. Her eyes were fixed on Fabian, sharp as broken glass.

"You don't care if I live or die, Fabian," Antoinette said, her voice carrying over the whispers. "You only care about the life insurance payout."

Panic flickered in Fabian's eyes. He raised his voice, addressing the crowd. "She's hysterical! Losing her parents has broken her mind. She needs medical help."

He lunged forward, his fingers closing around Antoinette's wrist like a vice. His grip was bruising, attempting to drag her toward his parked sedan.

"Let go of me!" Antoinette fought back, digging her heels into the dirt, screaming for help.

Then, a low, powerful rumble vibrated through the ground.

A massive, black, bulletproof Range Rover tore up the driveway, slamming on its brakes right at the edge of the lawn. The tires tore up chunks of grass and spit dust into the air.

The rear door swung open.

A man stepped out. He wore a tailored black suit that stretched across broad, imposing shoulders. His posture was rigid, military-straight.

It was Hiram Graves.

His cold, authoritative presence instantly suffocated the noise on the lawn. Even Eleanor snapped her mouth shut.

Hiram pulled off his dark sunglasses. His sharp, predatory gaze cut through the crowd and locked directly onto Antoinette and the hand gripping her wrist.

He walked onto the grass. His long strides ate up the distance in seconds. He stopped a few feet away, his voice a deep, gravelly command.

"Do you need to leave this place?"

Antoinette looked at the face she had only seen in news articles in her past life. The man her father had served with. The man who owed her father a debt.

She didn't look back at Fabian. She ripped her wrist out of his loosened grip and walked straight toward Hiram Graves.