The Comeback Heiress

My eyes flew open, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

This wasn't just a nightmare; it was a horrifying memory-a visceral replay of my own brutal death.

My inherited room was familiar, luxurious, yet the images flickering behind my eyelids were stark and terrifyingly real: a twisted metal car wreck, my own choked screams echoing in a silent void.

Before that, the faces of those who had meticulously orchestrated my demise flashed into view.

Izzy Vance, my father's "charity case," who wore my family's legacy and my triumphs like her own skin.