Reborn Heiress: The Tyrant's Secret Obsession

Dominic rested his chin against the top of the freezing urn, desperately trying to warm the cold metal with his own body heat. But the biting chill only served as a brutal reminder that she was truly gone. The overwhelming, suffocating despair inside him rapidly twisted into a towering, violent rage. A low, raspy growl vibrated in his throat, a sound that felt like a curse against the entire universe.

Bryn drifted down until she was right in front of him. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch his wet cheek, but her fingers only caught the cold rain.

Two blinding police spotlights swept across the cemetery entrance. The screech of tires skidding on wet asphalt pierced the night.

Dominic's vulnerable expression vanished in a fraction of a second. His eyes turned as hard and dead as frozen soil.

He kept one arm wrapped protectively around the urn, holding it tight against his heart. He planted his other hand in the mud and pushed himself up. He rose slowly, his massive frame blocking the rain, radiating pure hostility.

A black FBI SUV and a sleek sedan slammed on their brakes outside the gates. Car doors flew open.

Keifer Holcomb jumped out of the sedan. He held a large black umbrella, his other arm wrapped tightly around a small, shivering figure covered in a silver emergency blanket.

Bryn's pupils dilated. The girl hiding against Keifer's chest was Fabiola. The very person who planned her murder.

Keifer saw the destroyed grave. He saw the urn in Dominic's arms. His face turned purple with rage as he screamed into the rain.

He called Dominic a sick freak. He yelled that Dominic was stripping away the peace of the dead, demanding he put the ashes down immediately.

Dominic let out a dark, humorless laugh. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a cruel smirk. His eyes sliced across Keifer's face like razor blades.

Fabiola let out a fake, dramatic gasp. She buried her face in Keifer's chest and sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

She begged Dominic not to hurt her sister's remains. Her voice cracked perfectly as she cried that Bryn had already suffered enough.

Bryn floated in the air, her fists clenched so tight her nails would have drawn blood if she had a body. She wanted to rip Fabiola's lying tongue right out of her mouth.

Dominic ignored the pathetic performance. He reached inside his ruined suit jacket with his free hand and pulled out a thick, waterproof evidence bag. "My father's private security team hasn't slept for three days," he stated, his voice dripping with venom.

He threw it hard. The heavy plastic bag smacked directly against Keifer's chest and dropped into the mud. Inside were stacks of suspicious bank transfer logs and grainy security camera printouts.

A few photos slid to the top of the clear bag. They clearly showed Fabiola's face as she met with a known black-market forger on the exact day of Bryn's death.

Keifer looked down. His eyes locked onto the photos. His breath hitched, and he instinctively glanced down at Fabiola.

All the color drained from Fabiola's face. She immediately dug her fingers into Keifer's arm, crying hysterically that the photos were photoshopped.

She pointed a shaking finger at Dominic. She accused him of framing her, the poor surviving victim, just so he could steal Bryn's massive inheritance.

Keifer looked down at the damning evidence, his heart sinking like a stone. But almost immediately, a far more terrifying thought hijacked his brain: if he admitted Fabiola was a liar, he would be admitting to the entire world that he was a gullible idiot who got played by a teenage girl. No. That was impossible. Keifer's massive ego could never accept that he had been played for a fool. He tightened his grip on Fabiola, desperately choosing to believe his perfect angel over his own eyes.

He took a step forward. He tilted his chin up, arrogantly mocking Dominic for being a pathetic loser who could never get Bryn to look his way.

"She loved me!" Keifer shouted over the rain. "You doing this is just pathetic jealousy!"

The words hit Dominic's chest like a physical blow. His arm tightened around the urn so fiercely his muscles shook.

Bryn shook her head frantically. She screamed at Keifer that she never loved a murderer, but her voice was silent in the wind.

Dominic sucked in a sharp breath of freezing air. He forced his muscles to relax, suppressing the urge to tear Keifer's throat out with his bare hands. His eyes went completely blank.

He stated, his voice dangerously calm, that he wasn't going to let them die easily. He was going to make them watch as they lost absolutely everything.

Dominic turned his back on them. He walked toward his Maybach, projecting an aura of absolute arrogance. He opened the passenger door and placed the urn onto the leather seat with agonizing care.

He got in and started the engine. The Maybach roared like a beast, the tires spinning and kicking a massive wave of dirty mud all over Keifer and Fabiola's legs.

Bryn didn't hesitate. She phased right through the metal door and sat in the passenger seat, right next to the cold urn that held her own ashes.