The Cold-Blooded Heiress’s Revenge

I was the biological daughter they finally brought home, but I suffered from a severe, life-threatening peanut allergy.

On my very first day back, my father set a brutal house rule: everything we wantedfrom clothes to foodhad to be decided by drawing cards.

Only drawing the Ace of Hearts would get you what you asked for.

For two years, I never drew it once. Meanwhile, Olivia, the adopted daughter, got the Ace of Hearts every single time.

On the night of my worst allergic attack, my throat swelled shut. I knelt on the floor, begging them for my EpiPen.

My father merely tossed the deck of cards at my face. "You know the rules. Draw the Ace of Hearts, and you get the medicine."

To survive, I hid an extra Ace of Hearts in my sleeve.

But my brothers caught me. They crushed my fingers under their boots, kicked my EpiPen away, and locked me in the sub-zero basement freezer.

They had no idea that was the last time I would ever beg them for help.

My throat felt like it was clogged with burning, crushed glass.

My airway was swelling and closing up at a terrifying speed.

Clutching my neck in agony, I fell to my knees on the polished marble floor, gasping desperately for air.

But nothing came.

The lack of oxygen turned my face a dark, suffocating purple, the veins on my forehead bulging violently.

"Medicine... please... give me..."

With the last of my strength, I reached out and grabbed the hem of my father, Arthurs, expensive suit pants.

Today was my twentieth birthday. It was also Olivia's.

Just ten minutes ago, Olivia had hand-fed me a piece of her "specialty" birthday cake.

I have a severe, lethal allergy to peanuts.

Even a single crumb of peanut dust could trigger anaphylactic shock.

And my entire family knew this.

Arthur looked down at me from his towering height. There was no pity in his eyes, only deep, cold disgust.

He slowly pulled a gold-rimmed deck of cards from his pocket and fanned them out across the coffee table with a sharp slide.

"You know the rules of this house, Tori."

"If you want something, you rely on your luck."

"Draw the Ace of Hearts, and the EpiPen is yours. If not, youll just have to tough it out."

I was the biological daughter of the Sterling family, lost and raised in the slums for eighteen years.

When they finally brought me back two years ago, I thought I finally had a family.

But on my very first day, Arthur established this ridiculous rule.

He said the Sterling family didn't raise useless leeches. He said luck was a form of strength.

My clothes, my allowance, even my three daily mealseverything had to be decided by drawing a card.

I accepted it, weeping silently, hoping to please them.

But for two whole years, no matter how I drew, that Ace of Hearts seemed to actively evade me. I never held it once.

Meanwhile, Oliviathe girl who had stolen my life for eighteen yearssomehow drew the Ace of Hearts with perfect, suspicious precision every single time.

She won the master bedroom that belonged to me. She won my parents' affection. She even won the right to go to the hospital when I was sick, leaving me to suffer in my room.

"Come on, Tori. Draw your card."

Olivia, wearing a custom-made designer gown, clung affectionately to our eldest brother, Julians, arm.

She blinked her innocent, doe-like eyes, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"If you don't draw it, you'll have to lie on the floor all night again, just like last time."

The air in my lungs was almost completely gone.

My vision began to blur, and the only sound in my ears was my own violent, wheezing gasp.

I knew that if I didn't get that epinephrine shot right now, I would die on this floor.

And this time, I wanted to live.

My hand trembling violently, I reached toward the cards on the table.

The moment my fingertips brushed the back of the deck, I used every ounce of my remaining strength to slide a card from my sleeve into my palm.

It was a discarded card I had picked up by the road a few days ago.

The Ace of Hearts.

I flipped it over. The bright red heart, the sharp letter A.

"Its... the Ace of Hearts..."

I gasped out the words, my eyes clinging to the emergency medicine box on the table.

All I had to do was grab that pen, stab it into my thigh, and I would live.

I reached out, my fingers inches away from the box.

Smack!

A large, heavy hand slammed down, grabbing my wrist so hard I heard my bones creak.

It was Julian.

He let out a cold sneer and, with his other hand, flipped a card from the deck on the table.

It was another Ace of Hearts.

"Tori! You dare cheat in this house?!"

Julian roared, throwing my hand back violently.

I crashed hard onto the floor, the back of my head slamming against the sharp edge of the coffee table. A dizzying pain exploded in my skull.

"You would resort to such disgusting, cheap tricks just to get your way?"

Julian looked down at me, his gaze filled with utter revulsion, as if looking at a piece of trash.

"Olivia said you were rotten to the core, and I didn't believe her."

"Now I see. Growing up in the slums only taught you how to steal and cheat!"

My second brother, Ethan, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and let out a scoff.

He was the youngest chief of surgery in the city's top hospital.

Yet, as he looked at my suffocating, purple face, he showed absolutely no medical compassion. There was only mockery in his eyes.

"Alright, cut the act."

"Clinically speaking, severe peanut allergies can trigger shock, but your face is clearly purple because you're holding your breath."

"To get attention, you're actually faking an allergic reaction? How pathetic."

I looked at Ethan in absolute despair.

I wasn't faking.

My windpipe was almost completely swollen shut. Every attempt to breathe felt like swallowing razor blades.

I shook my head frantically, tears streaming down my face.

"Save... save me..."

I crawled toward Ethan, trying to grasp the tip of his leather shoe.

My third brother, Jax, stepped forward and brutally kicked my hand away.

He was a professional race car driver, known for his explosive, violent temper.

"Get your filthy hands off Ethan!"

Jax snarled, his face twisted in disgust.

"Since you have dirty hands and love to cheat, you need to be taught a lesson."

Without warning, he lifted his heavy combat boot and stomped directly onto my right hand.

Crack.

The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed clearly in the quiet living room.

"Ahhh!"

I opened my mouth to scream, but my swollen throat could only produce a pathetic, airless hiss.

The pain of crushed fingers shot straight to my heart.

My entire body convulsed, cold sweat instantly soaking through my thin shirt.

"Can't even take a little pain? And you call yourself a Sterling?"

Jax ground his boot down harder, laughing coldly.

Then, he turned to the coffee table, picked up the box containing my EpiPen, and tossed it into the trash can.

To make sure I had no hope left, he grabbed a cup of hot black coffee from the table and poured it directly into the trash, soaking the medicine.

My last hope of survival was completely destroyed by my own brothers.

Olivia shrank back into our mother, Eleanors, arms, covering her mouth in mock terror.

"Jax, stop. Tori looked like she was really hurting..."

"Oh, Olivia. You are far too sweet and naive."

Eleanor patted Olivias back comfortingly. When she looked at me, her eyes turned ice-cold.

"Today is your and Olivia's birthday. You just had to ruin it and cause a scene, didn't you? You always want to make everyone miserable."

"Arthur, lock her in the basement freezer. Let her cool her head and think about what she did!"

Arthur nodded coldly.

"An ungrateful brat needs to learn her lesson. Lock her up for the night. Let's see if she dares to play tricks again."

Laughing and chatting, they escorted Olivia toward the dining room.

There was a six-tier designer cake waiting for her, surrounded by a mountain of luxury gifts.

Meanwhile, I was dragged away like a dead dog by the family bodyguards.

And thrown into the dark, sub-zero basement freezer.

The heavy metal door slammed shut with a resounding thud, cutting off all light and sound from the outside world.

The temperature inside was negative ten degrees.

The biting, freezing air instantly pierced through my thin clothes, making me shiver violently.

But the cold wasn't the real killer. It was the lack of oxygen.

My allergic reaction was reaching its final, fatal stage.

My vision went completely pitch-black. My brain spun from the lack of oxygen.

I curled up on the freezing floor, gasping like a fish out of water, my mouth wide open, unable to pull in a single breath.

Why? I asked myself a thousand times in the dark.

I was their biological daughter.

I was the one who had been kidnapped and suffered for eighteen years in poverty.

Why did they give all their love to an adopted impostor?

Was it because I didn't know how to act cute?

Was it because I lacked Olivias elegant, high-society manners?

For two years in this house, I had lived worse than a dog.

Whenever Olivia casually said she "liked my bedroom," I was kicked out and sent to the drafty attic.

Whenever Olivia claimed my poor grades "embarrassed the family," I was forced to drop out of college and do chores around the house.

Even this cursed card-drawing game was suggested by Olivia "by accident."

And every time, she drew the Ace of Hearts.

I used to think I just had bad luck. I thought I didn't deserve happiness.

But tonight, as death gripped my throat, the truth finally flashed through my fading mind.

There was no such thing as luck.

How could anyone draw the Ace of Hearts perfectly, every single day, for two straight years from a full deck?

It was a setup. A blatant, slow-motion murder disguised as a game.

My consciousness was slipping.

My heartbeat grew faint, and my limbs lost all sensation.

Just when I thought I was going to die in this cold, dark tomb, a warm, kindly face flashed in my mind.

My grandfather, James Vance.

"Chloe, if those Sterlings ever make you unhappy, come to New York. My home will always be your shield."

James Vance was the head of the Vance Group, one of the most powerful conglomerates in New York.

Two years ago, when I was found, James had tried to take me in. But Arthur, obsessed with his public image, refused to let me go.

Back then, I naively believed my biological parents would eventually love me.

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

I couldn't die here. I refused to die in this filthy, dark corner!

I hadn't exposed Olivia's lies yet. I hadn't made these blind monsters pay for what they did to me!

A sudden, fierce will to live erupted from the depths of my soul.

I bit my tongue hard. The sharp pain brought a brief moment of clarity.

Groping around in the dark with my unbroken left hand, I grabbed a heavy, frozen leg of ham from the shelf.

Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I smashed it against the small glass ventilation window in the corner.

Bang!

Bang!

Shatter!

The sound of breaking glass sliced through the dark.

Fresh, freezing night air rushed into the room through the broken window.

I dragged myself over and pressed my face against the jagged frame, inhaling greedy, desperate gulps of air.

The cold air stung my swollen lungs like needles, but I could breathe.

I was alive.

Using my elbows, I squeezed my bruised body through the small window frame and crawled out.

Outside was the dark backyard of the estate. The night was silent, save for the wind rustling the leaves.

Dragging my broken right hand, I limped out of the Sterling estate.

The night wind was freezing, but the fire of hatred in my chest burned hot.

I didn't go to the hospital.

I knew that the moment I checked into a local clinic, the Sterlings would find me.

They would drag me back and find slower, crueler ways to torture me.

I had to run. I had to escape this hell completely.

Ignoring the agonizing pain in my hand and my weakened body, I walked all the way to the citys grand suspension bridge.

The water below was deep, dark, and wild.

I took off my worn-out canvas sneakers and placed them neatly by the guardrail.

Then, I tore a piece of fabric from my shirt and pressed it hard against the open wound of my broken hand.

The dark red blood dripped onto the concrete, staining the floor and the metal railing.

Finally, I snagged the bloody piece of cloth on the wire mesh of the barrier.

Without looking back, I walked away into the dark.

From this day on, Victoria Sterling was dead.

She died on the cold night of her twentieth birthday.

I walked to a public payphone on a deserted street corner and dialed a number I had memorized but never dared to call.

"Hello? Who is this?"

James Vances voice came through the receiverold, but commanding and powerful.

Hearing his voice, my mask of strength crumbled, and tears flooded my eyes.

"Grandpa James..."

"Its me... Tori..."

"Save me..."

The line went silent for a second, followed by a sharp, furious gasp from James.

"Tori?! Where are you?! Don't be scared, sweetheart. I'm sending my men right now!"

Thirty minutes later, three black Mercedes-Maybachs pulled silently into the dim alleyway where I was hiding.

A dozen suited bodyguards immediately surrounded me.

When the head butler saw me covered in blood, pale and shivering, his eyes turned red with anger.

"Miss Victoria, look what they did to you..."

"Mr. Vance is waiting at our private medical facility. Let's get you home."

Sitting in the spacious, heated leather seat of the car, I watched the city lights fade away.

A cold, dark smile crept onto my lips.

The Sterlings. Olivia.

Everything you owe me, I will collect. With interest.