Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 709: The inside of the car grew quiet again. Only the steady patter of rain drumming on the windows broke the silence. Richard switched on the engine without a word, eyes locked on the road ahead, face unreadable. Several moments passed. Then, almost in a whisper, he finally said, "Let her go. Let's act like she was never ours... We've done our part these past four years. We've done what we could." He hesitated briefly before adding, "After Jarrod returns, our priority is to work on getting Maia on our side...

She's the last shot we've got at saving the Morgan name!" Sandra gripped the edge of her seat more tightly and gave a slight nod. "Do you think Maia might ever forgive us? After all that we did to her?" she asked quietly. "How would we know unless we give it a shot? Maia and Jarrod were thick as thieves when they were kids. We jumped to conclusions back then and blamed her unfairly. But now, if the three of us go and plead with her, I've got a feeling she might soften." Richard pressed down on the gas, and the car picked up speed. "If once isn't enough, we'll go again.

And again if we have to. We won't stop till she forgives us!" Meanwhile, in the grand bed of the master suite at the Nelson estate, Rosanna lay in a daze, caught somewhere between sleep and a dream. In her dream, she finally wore the white wedding gown that she had always longed for and married into wealth and status. People surrounded her, clapping and cheering, voices full of joy. The whole place buzzed with excitement. A hand offered her a glass of wine. She took it with a smile and sipped slowly.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain shot through her head, and everything around her started spinning. She gasped, choking on the liquid as it went down the wrong pipe. Then, all at once, she began to cough hard, her body jerking with each breath. Every story starts at g Ɐ ln σ ν s, com Her eyes snapped open. Her throat burned, and tears poured down her cheeks without warning. Her mind was still foggy. She tried to push herself upright, but something yanked her wrist back hard! For a moment, Rosanna froze.

She glanced down and saw that her wrists and ankles had been tied tightly to the bedposts with red, ribbon-like restraints. The skin around the bindings was raw and marked. No matter how she twisted or pulled, there was no breaking loose. She flung her head back, a cold jolt running through her like someone had dumped ice water all over her body. The room was cramped, the lighting dim and eerie. Red curtains hung heavy all around, making it feel like she was trapped in a velvet cage. . . .