The Burned Wife Reborn For Spectacular Revenge

empire is b

om of the Bridges estate in Long Island. Thick, black smoke rolled across the ceiling. The heat in the room was a physical weight, pressing down

to the heavy brass-carved mahogany chair. The coarse fibers bit into h

fresh, warm blood. The sharp ache radiating from her severed vocal cords pulsed in time with her fra

ad been kicked open moments ago, th

eather oxfords clicked against the hardwood floor. He stopped right in front of her. He raised his foot and brought his heel down har

pe, trying to form a scream, a question, a curse. Only a wet, mechanical

as tight, digging into the skin that had been eaten away by chemical burns. The raw, e

gone," he

of high heels echo

She did not cough. She did not look at the flames. She walked straight to Demarco and slipped her a

st stopped moving. The oxygen in the room seemed to vanish. Cristin.

floorboards. The alcohol hit the creeping flames, and the fire f

" Cristin said, looking down at her. "A beau

is voice flat. "Your grandfather didn't just have a str

earing pain ripped through her heart. Grandpa Conrad. The only person who had truly protecte

ped his fingers meticulously, scrubbing away the residue of Ava'

. They turned their backs to Ava and walk

The metal deadbolt slid into pl

otion tore at the fresh wound on her throat. Hot, coppery blood spilled

A pure, concentrated fury pumped through

scle, but she did not stop. She forced her hand downward. From the sleeve of her silk nig

he shadows of his stroke, he had pressed a burner phone into her palm. "If you ever need a weapon to flip the board," he had rasped, his voice barely a whisper, "call this number." It was only in her final, desper

locked door. The corners of her cracked,

red button. She pushed it until

te. The floorboards disintegrated. A blinding, pure white light

e burnin

into Ava's body. She gasp

no fire. She was staring up at

ve fever. She turned her head. The calendar on the wall of the Hampton estate guest room