Rising From Hell: The Vengeful Heiress Returns

Before the President could finalize his victory, the heavy doors opened one more time.

Two Secret Service agents dragged Tricia into the room. She was crying hysterically, her makeup running down her face in ugly black streaks.

Tricia took one look at Domenic bleeding on the floor and the President standing over him with a face like thunder. Her knees gave out. She collapsed onto the expensive Persian rug.

"I didn't do anything!" Tricia wailed, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what happened!"

Domenic saw his true love crying on the floor. Like a complete fool, he tried to crawl toward her to protect her. The agent behind him slammed a hand onto his shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

Hester stepped out from behind Elba. She looked down at Tricia. The corners of Hester's mouth twitched. It was time to finish the job.

Hester's voice was frail, but it carried across the silent room.

"Tricia... in the sitting room, Domenic said you were his true love. He said he was doing this for you. Is that true?"

It was a lethal question. If Tricia said yes, she was admitting to seducing the President's son and destroying a vital political alliance. If she said no, she was throwing Domenic under the bus.

Tricia looked up. She met the President's cold, dead eyes. She knew instantly that if she claimed Domenic, Christian would have her erased from Washington by morning.

Survival instinct took over.

Tricia shook her head violently. "No! No, it's not true!" she screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Domenic. "I only see him as a friend! He's the one who keeps harassing me! I was too scared to say no to the President's son!"

Domenic froze. The blood drained from his face. He stared at the woman he had just ruined his life for, his mouth hanging open in pure agony.

"Tricia?" Domenic whispered, his voice breaking. "What are you saying? You said you loved me."

"You forced me!" Tricia shrieked, playing the victim with sickening ease.

A wave of disgust washed over the room. Even Christian looked repulsed by the blatant betrayal.

Hester smiled inwardly. Pathetic.

She didn't let up. She took a step closer to Tricia. "If he forced you, then why were you helping him try to make me sign the annulment?"

Tricia choked on her tears. She had no answer. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, looking for an escape. When she found none, she resorted to her ultimate weapon.

"If none of you believe me," Tricia screamed, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch, "then I'll just die to prove my innocence!"

She scrambled to her feet and sprinted headfirst toward the massive, solid marble Roman pillar in the corner of the room.

It was a classic manipulation tactic. Everyone in the room froze, shocked by the sudden escalation. Elba gasped and covered her mouth.

But Hester knew Tricia better than anyone. She knew Tricia was a coward. She knew Tricia would slow down at the last second and fake the impact.

Hester lunged forward.

"No! Don't do it!" Hester screamed, reaching her hands out as if to catch the running girl.

Tricia reached the pillar. Just as Hester predicted, Tricia's feet stuttered, her body bracing to fake the fall.

In that exact fraction of a second, Hester's hands hit the center of Tricia's back.

Hester didn't pull her back. She shoved her forward with a vicious, concentrated burst of force.

The push destroyed Tricia's attempt to slow down.

THUD.

The sound of Tricia's skull impacting the solid marble was sickeningly loud. There was no fake fall. There was no slowing down.

Tricia didn't even scream. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body dropped to the floor like a sack of wet cement. She lay completely motionless. A thick stream of dark blood began to pool on the carpet near her hairline.

Staring down at the gruesome, spreading crimson, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit the back of Hester's throat. Her fingers trembled involuntarily at the sheer brutality of what she had just done. But as she looked at Tricia's face-the face of the woman who had laughed over her broken body in her past life-the nausea evaporated, instantly incinerated by a cold, absolute hatred. This was the cost of war. They owed her a debt of blood, and she was going to collect every single drop.

The room was paralyzed for two seconds.

Hester immediately dropped to her knees beside the unconscious girl. "Doctor! Get the doctor!" Hester cried out, her hands hovering over Tricia in perfect, panicked horror. "She actually hit it!"

Domenic screamed, thrashing wildly against the agent holding him down, but a swift punch to his gut left him gasping for air on the floor.

Christian's face was a mask of absolute fury. "Get this garbage out of my quarters," he barked at the agents. "Take her to the infirmary and keep her out of my sight."

Elba rushed forward, pulling Hester away from the bleeding girl. "Hester, stop. Don't touch her. You tried to save her, that's enough."

Hester buried her face in Elba's shoulder, letting her body shake with "shock."

But if anyone had looked at Hester's face, they would have seen her blue eyes shining with cold, terrifying delight.