The Wronged Heiress’ Revenge

"You vile witch! I’m gonna make sure you join my son in the grave today!"

The shrill scream rang in Zara Powell’s ears right before a boot connected with her ribs, sending her sprawling back into the edge of the dining table. She curled in on herself instinctively, shielding her abdomen with both arms and ignoring the searing pain screaming up her spine. "It really was self-defense when I killed Watson Rivera! The court ruled it, they found me not guilty! You can’t just go taking the law into your own hands like this."

Cataleya Rivera, clutching a sobbing Ailani Rivera to her chest, spat her words like poison right at Zara’s feet.

"Ha! Don’t kid yourself—we know exactly how much the Powells paid your lawyer. And who even knows what else you gave him for that verdict! The law failed our family, but even if it costs me my life, you’re gonna pay for what you did today!"

Cataleya’s eyes blazed with raw fury. She snatched a paring knife off the counter and lunged straight for Zara.

"Bang!"

The front door flew open off its hinges.

Cataleya froze mid-step, spinning around to see who’d burst in.

Zara lifted her head and caught sight of Samir Powell stepping over the threshold. It was like seeing a flicker of lightning cut through a dreadful, pitch-black night. Her throat tightened, emotion clogging her words before she could even speak. "Samir, tell them I didn’t mean to kill Watson. You’re the only one who believes me, right?"

The cold, imposing man walked straight toward her, then sank to one knee in front of her.

Zara reached out, aching to throw herself into his arms. She’d spent three days locked in jail, living every second paralyzed by fear and anxiety, and finally the court had set her free. She’d barely made it out, and here he was.

Her hand stretched out… but before she could even brush his shirt, a hard, brutal hand clamped around her throat.

Samir’s fingers squeezed tight, no mercy at all, cutting off her air.

His voice was ice-cold, stripped of every scrap of warmth it had ever held for her. "How dare you walk out of that place alive?"

Zara’s eyes blew wide open. She couldn’t believe the violent stranger staring down at her. The suffocating feeling swallowed her whole, but she pushed past the black spots dancing at the edges of her vision, voice raw and desperate. "The court cleared me—it was self-defense… I have the ruling right here, Samir, it’s in my pocket. Let me show you."

To her shock, Samir let go.

A tiny flicker of hope sparked in Zara’s chest. She fumbled frantically in her pocket, pulled out the folded court document, and shoved it at him.

He didn’t even glance at it. He struck a lighter, set the whole paper on fire, and tossed the burning scrap straight onto Zara’s dress.

Her pale, flowy Victorian-style dress burst into a small blaze instantly, leaving a charred hole through the fabric. The tender skin underneath bubbled up into a angry, throbbing red burn.

Zara frantically brushed the smoldering paper off onto the floor. Samir never moved, his eyes still cold, thick with contempt. "Just because Ailani had a thing for me, you had to kill her brother, leave her broken and suicidal. Then you bribed your way out of the charge. Zara, you’re shameless. You’re heartless."

Desperate, Zara crawled forward, clutching at his trouser leg, her voice fragile and shaking. "No, I didn’t. Watson said I had to get out of the way so his sister could have you. Samir, you have to believe me—Ah!"

Samir wrenched his leg free of her grip and kicked her hard in the side. The pain left Zara drenched in cold sweat, her face as pale as death.

Just as he lifted his foot to kick her again, Zara screamed out, "You can’t do this! I’m pregnant. It’s our baby—our child."

"Child?"

Samir’s eyes flashed with icy rage. He stepped forward, grabbed Zara’s frail shoulders, and wrenched her head up to force her to look him in the eye. "You actually have the guts to say you’re carrying some bastard in there?"

Zara shook her head so hard her neck ached. "No! It’s not! It’s our baby—mine and yours!"

"I went to the doctor’s appointment with you last week. You never said a word about being pregnant. How do you lie to my face like this, so shamelessly? Hmm?"

His grip tightened until her bones ached, and Zara gasped in pain.

"I wasn’t lying! I wanted it to be a surprise at our engagement next week, that’s why I didn’t say anything at the checkup. I really am pregnant, and Watson’s death really was self-defense. Please, just believe me."

"Slap!"

Samir finally lost his patience, and his hand cracked hard across Zara’s face.

He sneered down at her. "A surprise? You’ve been dying to marry into the Powell family, and you’d keep something this big quiet? I bet that brat in your belly is your lawyer’s. Zara, you’re more depraved than I ever imagined."

Zara clutched her stinging cheek, too stunned to even breathe as she stared up at Samir.

What was he talking about? What lawyer? What lawyer’s baby?

Everyone in this town knew: Zara Powell had only ever loved one man. Her whole world had always revolved around Samir Powell.

Samir saw her wide-eyed shock and assumed she was faking it. He pulled a stack of photos out of his jacket and hurled them straight at her face.

"You talked your way out of a murder charge with that self-defense bullshit. What’s your excuse for this?"

Zara stared blankly at the photos scattered all around her on the floor. They showed her with her defense lawyer, in intimate poses she’d never been in.

Everything in those photos—the location, the poses—were all wrong. Things she never did.

She lifted her head, suddenly so exhausted she didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, to defend herself.

"I didn’t do any of this. I can’t even explain where these photos came from."

Samir pressed the sole of his shoe down hard on her burnt hand, twisting until the broken blisters popped and oozed.

He looked like a completely different person—his face, his voice, nothing like the man she’d loved. All she saw was a stranger’s raging hatred burning back at her.

"What? Got all that fake innocence and you can’t keep lying anymore?" he purred, cruel and cold.

Zara looked up at him weakly. The light in her eyes—the light that had always been only for him—was fading fast.

She spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. "Samir… do you really think I’m that despicable?"

Not satisfied with his answer, he lifted his foot again and kicked her as hard as he could right in the abdomen.

"Despicable? That’s too nice a word for you. The name Zara Powell should be in the dictionary next to the definition of filthy, evil trash!"

The agonizing pain in her belly finally broke through her last bit of composure. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and a bitter, broken smile tugged at her lips. "Even a tiger doesn’t eat its own cubs. Samir… you really are that cruel."

"Breaking already? Save the tears. The real show hasn’t even started yet."

Samir left her bleeding and broken on the floor. He cast a warm, soft glance at Ailani before walking out the door, never once looking back.