Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 894: "No big deal. I'll just call it quits." She padded barefoot across the floor and stood beside the bed, eyes locked on Axell's sleeping face. There was a time she held her head high as the proud Morgan heiress, refusing to yield to anyone. Now, she was just a shadow of that girl-living in someone else's home, dancing to a man's tune, surviving off whatever scraps he offered. Lately, she'd come to understand the ugly truths about people-their hunger for power, their endless wanting, and their need to dominate.

She offered Axell exactly what he craved-gentleness, submission, a steady presence. And sure enough, he started treating her like she belonged to him. She'd stopped being just a body to warm his bed. Now, he wanted her nearby, always within reach, like something precious he couldn't let go of. She had picked up on the change right away-and it was exactly the outcome she had been aiming for. Rosanna firmly believed it was only a matter of time before Axell was completely wrapped around her finger. "Since you've taken my body, there's a price to pay...

From now on, you belong to me-until your final breath, you'll dance to my tune." She bent down slowly, closing the distance between them with eerie intimacy. Her voice dropped to a silken murmur, like a lover whispering in sleep. "Axell... sleep well... You'll be my sword of revenge!" She ran her fingers lightly along his jaw, her eyes shining with a wild, feverish light that only grew sharper by the second. "Starting now, I don't give a damn about pride, love, or my past. I'm going to come out on top, no matter what it takes. And you-yes, you-and the entire Nelson clan...

you're the only tools I need to do it." She kept her eyes locked on him, unmoving. There was something in her stare-half hunter ready to pounce, half lunatic clinging to the last thing that made sense. Out of nowhere, a low, unhinged laugh spilled from her lips. It bubbled up slowly, dark and twisted, soaked in venom. ⸮ ν﹒ She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the screen, where Maia's image lit up the room. "Maia... while you bask in the light, I'll be the darkness pulling at your heels. Bit by bit, I'll reclaim all that you stole from me-everything you own, everything you are.

I'll make you choke on regret. And Richard... Sandra... from this moment on, you're not my parents. You're just enemies." Peace settled over the presidential suite, warm lamplight brushing over each elegant surface. By the floor-to-ceiling glass pane, Raegan let her fingers move across the keyboard, her face both focused and quietly thoughtful. She stared at the headline crawling across her screen: "Explosion at Harmony Plaza in Wront. Famed Designer Maia Watson Confronts Attackers, Crisis Averted." Shouts, stampeding feet, and general disorder filled the video.

However, in the midst of the turmoil, Maia stood her ground, steadily moving toward the bomber with striking composure. Brows knit with concern, Raegan kept her gaze fixed on Maia's image in the video. "Maia..." She had just returned to Wront and was already in the news spotlight again? How did that woman manage to become the center of attention wherever she went? With a single keystroke, Raegan stopped the footage. . . .