The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband

The double doors blew open.

Kaela pushed Barron into the center of the room. The silence was absolute. She held her chin high, a perfect imitation of Jenna's arrogant posture.

She stopped. She scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on Candace on the balcony.

"Sorry I'm late," Kaela said, her voice a flawless mimicry of Jenna's haughty tone. "There was some trouble on the road. It's been handled."

Candace gripped the railing. She looked confused, then relieved.

Charlee Carr, drunk on wine and entitlement, stepped forward. She couldn't stand the attention Kaela was getting.

"Look at you, Kaela," Charlee sneered, her eyes raking over the expensive silk with poorly concealed envy. "Finally decided to show? And you brought the vegetable?"

She feigned a stumble, tipping her glass of red wine toward Kaela's chest.

Kaela didn't flinch. She didn't move.

But the wheelchair did.

The chair's electric motor whirred, and it surged forward a few inches-a sudden, violent-looking spasm. The wine splashed across Barron's legs, soaking his trousers.

The room gasped. You didn't touch a Kaufman. Even a broken one.

"Oops," Charlee giggled. "My bad."

Barron let out a low, guttural growl. His head twitched violently.

Kaela knelt instantly. She pulled out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at Barron's leg. "It's okay," she soothed, her hand resting firmly on his knee.

She stood up and turned to Charlee. Her eyes were ice.

"You just ruined a bespoke Brioni suit," Kaela said. "Can you afford to replace it?"

"Please," Charlee scoffed. "My father is Dominic Carr."

Kaela stepped closer, invading Charlee's space. She lowered her voice so only Charlee could hear.

"Your father? The one who used a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands to illegally short his own company's stock last quarter?"

Charlee froze. That information wasn't public. It wasn't even rumored. Only three people in the world were supposed to know.

"The SEC filing is under the name 'Nightingale Holdings,'" Kaela whispered. "I'd go home and start deleting emails if I were you."

Charlee's face went grey. She dropped her glass and ran for the exit.

"Kaela! What the hell are you doing?" Harl marched over, his face flushed with fury. "Apologize to her! And wipe Mr. Kaufman's face!"

"Apologize?" Kaela laughed.

She pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen. A small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it sent a command.

The giant projector behind them flickered. Jenna's face vanished.

Audio filled the room.

"It was Jenna... she wanted a video... wanted her broken..."

Miller's sobbing confession echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

"Candace said... don't mark the face..."

The crowd erupted in whispers. Jenna screamed from backstage and ran. Candace looked like she was going to faint.

Kaela cut the audio. She looked at Harl, her expression one of cold fury, the perfect mask of a betrayed older sister.

"It seems my own family tried to have me assaulted," she said, her voice shaking with practiced rage. "I've sent a copy of this to the Kaufman legal team. Consider this your warning."

Harl's face turned purple. He raised his hand to slap her. "You ungrateful bitch!"

His hand swung down.

It never connected.

The wheelchair jolted forward again, its front wheel catching Harl's ankle. He stumbled, his slap turning into a clumsy flail that missed her by a foot. At the same time, Graves materialized between them.

"Mr. Moon, step back," Graves said, his voice a low threat. "You are agitating the client."

Harl cradled his twisted ankle, staring at Barron in horror.

The "invalid's" head was still tilted, his mouth slack, but his eyes were fixed on Harl. They were vacant, yet held a chilling, animalistic focus that promised violence.