The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Return To Power

Sunlight caught the silver needles. They gleamed cold and sharp against the black metal.

The doctor let out a dramatic gasp and pointed.

“What is that? Unsterilized needles?” he yelled. “That’s blatant malpractice. You’ll give her a massive infection or cause internal bleeding. Security, restrain her.”

Tiffany scrambled to her knees. She pulled out her phone and aimed the camera directly at Dakota.

“I’m recording everything,” she threatened. “You’re going to prison.”

Dakota tuned out the noise. The world shrank down to the dying woman beneath her hands. Her eyes turned sharp and clinical.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a foil-wrapped alcohol prep pad. She tore it open with her teeth. She pinched the first silver needle between her thumb and forefinger and swiped it through the pad.

Her right hand moved blindingly fast. She drove the needle straight into the center of Audrey’s forehead.

The bodyguards flinched. One looked away.

Audrey’s body, which had been thrashing against the pavement, instantly went rigid. The violent spasms stopped.

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. He stared at the motionless body.

“Impossible,” he muttered.

Dakota didn’t pause. She grabbed the collar of Audrey’s silk dress and ripped it downward. The fabric tore, exposing the pale skin over her sternum.

She sterilized three more needles in rapid succession. She plunged them deep into the flesh around her heart. Her fingers moved with brutal precision, hitting the key points around the failing organ.

She flicked the end of each needle with her fingernail. The thin metal vibrated rapidly, emitting a low hum.

The vibration traveled down the needles. The dark purple on Audrey’s lips slowly began to fade into a pale pink.

Suddenly, the portable heart monitor shrieked. A solid, unbroken tone pierced the air.

The jagged green line on the screen flattened into a perfectly straight line.

Tiffany dropped her phone. It clattered against the asphalt.

“She killed her,” Tiffany screamed. “She’s dead.”

The doctor jumped forward. “I told you. She’s a fraud. Arrest her.”

Two bodyguards moved in fast. One grabbed Dakota’s shoulder with a vice-like grip. The other drew a taser, the red laser dot fixing on the center of her back. The heavy click of the weapon arming echoed loudly.

Dakota felt the grip on her shoulder and the threat at her back. Her heart rate didn’t increase. She kept her eyes locked on Audrey’s chest.

“Shut up,” she ordered.

She reached into the bottom compartment of the hairpin and pulled out the final needle. It was twice as long as the others and made of pure gold.

Dakota took a deep breath. She gripped the gold needle with both hands. She found the exact center of Audrey’s chest, right between the ribs.

She drove the gold needle downward with massive force. It sank deep, only a tiny fraction of the metal visible above the skin.

Silence. The flatline tone screamed in their ears.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Tiffany let out a cruel, hysterical laugh. She looked at the bodyguards.

“Tase her,” she ordered.

The bodyguard’s finger tightened on the trigger.

Audrey’s chest suddenly jerked upward. Her back arched off the ground. A loud, desperate gasp tore from her throat, like a drowning victim breaking the surface.

The straight line on the monitor spiked. It dipped, then spiked again. A strong, steady rhythm filled the screen. The flatline alarm cut off.

Color rushed back into Audrey’s cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened.

Dakota stood up. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped a drop of sweat from her temple. She looked at the men holding the guns.

“She’s alive,” Dakota said.