Rising From Betrayal: The Untouchable Heiress

EVA BENTLEY POV:

The estate was not quiet that night. I could hear the muffled sounds of Cyrus and Ramona arguing downstairs, punctuated by Brynlee's theatrical sobs.

I didn't sleep. Dressed in black leggings and a tight-fitting tank top, I sat in the darkness, the cold weight of a chrome butterfly—a custom part my mother had made—a comforting presence in my hand. It kept me sharp. I knew they wouldn't let it go. The confrontation this afternoon was just the opening round.

Around midnight, a faint noise from downstairs broke the silence. Not arguing. It was the soft, metallic scrape of something out of place.

I held my breath, moving silently to my door and peering through the peephole. The hallway was dark and unnervingly still. My room was at the end of the hall, but it had a small fire escape ladder that led down to the back garden, near the garage.

Suddenly, a soft scratching sound came from my window. My heart seized.

I crept to the window, hiding behind the heavy curtain and peering through a tiny gap.

A dark figure was scaling the drainpipe on the side of the house. The movements were clumsy but determined. In the moonlight, I recognized the face.

Brett Merritt.

The audacity of him, breaking into my home. A wave of fury and disgust washed over me.

I stayed silent, watching as he reached my windowsill and fumbled, trying to pry the window open. The lock had been reinforced long ago. He only succeeded in making more noise before giving up.

He moved toward the balcony. The old sliding glass door was a much easier target.

I retreated into the shadows of the room as he expertly used a thin blade to jimmy the lock. The door slid open without a sound. Brett slipped inside, the reek of whiskey and cheap perfume clinging to him.

He must have thought I was asleep, because he went straight for my bed.

When he found it empty, he froze, then let out a low, angry curse.

"Eva!" he hissed into the darkness. "I know you're not asleep! Come out!"

I stepped out of the shadows and switched on a small lamp by the bed. The dim light illuminated his face, flushed red with alcohol and rage.

"We've already broken off our engagement, Brett. What are you even doing here?" I asked, my voice cold.

His aggressive posture faltered, and his expression morphed into a mask of fake sympathy. "Eva, babe... I'm here because my heart aches for you," he murmured, taking a step closer. "Look, I know my mother's words hurt you today. But she's my mother. You need to be the bigger person and try to understand where she's coming from."

Bile rose in my throat at his pathetic attempt to excuse his mother's cruelty. I wanted to scream, to wipe that condescending look off his face. But I needed to know what he was really after. Forcing down my fury, I lowered my gaze and let my shoulders slump, pretending his words had broken through my defenses. I gave him a weak, submissive nod.

Seeing my resistance crumble, Brett smiled, his chest puffing out with arrogant satisfaction. "That's a good girl. Now, to make things right and keep the peace, all you have to do is sign over half of your mother's inheritance to Brynlee. Just do that, and I'll smooth everything over."

I feigned hesitation, buying time to get more information. "Half the assets? What are you talking about? A few old bikes and tools?"

Brett's patience snapped. "Don't play dumb, Eva! Your mother left more than just scrap metal! Ramona told me everything. Your father has a detailed list of the assets—the properties, the offshore accounts!"

Ramona. Of course. She must have snooped through Cyrus's files and seen my mother's will.

Before I could respond, Brett stepped into my space, his sweaty hands aggressively grabbing my waist. "Come on, Eva," he coaxed, his eyes darkening with lust. "Let's stop fighting. Your reputation is completely trashed. No other man is ever going to want you now. Just give in to me. Let me put a baby in you. Once you're pregnant, everyone will have to accept it, and you can legitimately be my sweetbutt."

I watched him, disgust radiating from my eyes like chips of ice. "And if I say no?"

His patience evaporated, his face twisting into an ugly snarl. "Say no?" He lunged at me. "Then I'll just have to find my own way to make you 'agree'!"

His intent was unmistakable. He was going to assault me, right here, to force me into submission.

I was ready. As he lunged, I didn't retreat. I moved toward him.

I dropped low, ducking under his grasping hands, and drove my elbow hard into his ribs.

Brett let out a choked grunt, doubling over in pain, his face a mask of disbelief.