The Jilted Stray Is A Zillionaire Heiress

Christopher opened a massive black umbrella, shielding Eloise from the icy drizzle that had begun to fall over Long Island. He guided her down the expansive driveway.

Waiting at the curb was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended Wheelbase. Its license plate bore a single, highly restricted digit.

A driver in white gloves opened the heavy rear door. Eloise slid into the cabin. The air inside smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive leather.

The Phantom pulled away smoothly, the engine silent. In the rearview mirror, the Foreman villa shrank into a meaningless speck before disappearing entirely.

Christopher sat opposite her in the rear-facing jump seat. He poured a cup of hot Earl Grey tea from a silver thermos and handed it to her.

"The Palmer family," Christopher began, his voice low and steady, "is not a name you will find on Forbes. The family operates from a private island in the Caribbean. They control global shipping lanes and deep-sea mineral rights."

Eloise held the warm teacup. Her fingers traced the gold rim. Her heart rate remained steady. She felt no sudden surge of joy or relief.

"I need time," Eloise said, her eyes fixed on the rain streaking the window. "I am not abandoning my life or my practice as a clairvoyant just because you found me."

"Of course, Miss Palmer," Christopher bowed his head slightly. "The family respects your boundaries. We are merely here to serve."

The Rolls-Royce merged onto a winding coastal road overlooking the Atlantic, heading away from the Long Island estates. The rain intensified, slashing against the glass.

Suddenly, a searing heat bloomed against Eloise's chest.

She gasped, her hand flying to her sternum. The raw amethyst amulet she wore under her shirt felt like a burning coal. The heat pierced through her skin, radiating directly into her ribcage.

Eloise squeezed her eyes shut.

A violent vision forced its way into her mind. She saw blinding, sterile white lights. She heard the piercing, continuous scream of a flatlining EKG monitor.

An old man's face flashed before her-an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth, his eyes clouded with the unmistakable, suffocating fog of death.

The amethyst vibrated against her chest, syncing perfectly with the frantic hammering of her own pulse. It was a life-and-death resonance. A soul was being ripped from the physical world prematurely.

Eloise's eyes snapped open. A faint, dark purple light flickered in her irises.

She could feel it. Three miles ahead, on a sharp bend of the mountain road, a massive shadow of death was gathering. If she didn't intervene, the reaper would take a soul that wasn't scheduled to die.

Eloise slammed the teacup down onto the silver tray.

"Speed up," she commanded. Her voice was no longer quiet; it carried the heavy, absolute authority of a commanding officer.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. He looked at Christopher. The butler gave a single, curt nod.

The driver slammed his foot on the gas. The Phantom roared, surging forward through the heavy rain like a black torpedo.

Eloise unzipped her broken bag. She dug past her clothes and pulled out the stack of slightly damp parchment runes.

Her fingers moved with practiced speed, pulling out a specific card-the Sun Rune, drawn in red ink, representing absolute vitality. She pinched it between her index and middle fingers.

Through the thick fog ahead, a cluster of flashing red and blue emergency lights pierced the gloom. It was a massive medical convoy.