/1/105816/coverbig.jpg?v=f1aeb8a5a033c91eedd0a96d9c9876b7)
I woke up in a sterile hospital bed with the smell of antiseptic burning my throat, having just had my stomach pumped six hours ago. Before the sedatives even wore off, my mother called, not to ask if I was alive, but to demand I show up at my sister's birthday gala in two hours. To her, I wasn't a daughter; I was a three-hundred-million-dollar signature needed for a corporate merger. She didn't care that I was suicidal, or that my fiancé, Franco, was currently at a luxury hotel with his "secretary" while I was hooked up to an IV. At the gala, the humiliation only deepened. I watched my fiancé walk in with his mistress, the air thick with her cloying perfume. When my grandmother's "lost" emeralds-my rightful inheritance-spilled out of the mistress's purse, my mother didn't flinch. Instead, she hissed at me to give them back to avoid a scene. My sister, the "perfect" golden child, took the stage and told the elite crowd that I was mentally unstable and "confused" due to my medication. I stood there, drenched in champagne and bleeding from a glass shard, while my own family gaslighted me in front of the world's press. Franco didn't even look at me as he shielded his mistress from the cameras, leaving me to stand alone in the wreckage of a life they had dismantled. I realized then that my parents didn't want a daughter; they wanted a pawn who wouldn't talk back. Why was my life worth less than a line item in a budget? How could a mother hand her daughter's legacy to a mistress just to keep a contract intact? As my sister lunged at me in a fit of rage, I kicked her into the infinity pool and watched the "perfect" family mask finally shatter. I didn't wait for them to pull me down; I let the weight of my gown drag me into the dark water myself. Let them think the broken Kalea Alexander is gone. When I surface, I'm not coming back as a daughter-I'm coming back as their worst nightmare.
Contents
Chapter 1 No.1
The smell of antiseptic was the first thing to assault her senses, sharp and chemical, burning the back of her throat. Kalea Alexander opened her eyes, the stark white ceiling tiles swimming into focus before blurring again. Her head felt heavy, stuffed with cotton, a lingering effect of the sedatives they had pumped into her system only hours ago.
A nurse was adjusting the drip on the IV stand next to the bed. The woman's movements were efficient, but her eyes darted toward Kalea's face with a curiosity that felt invasive. It was the look people gave when they were trying to reconcile the woman in the hospital bed with the headlines they scrolled past on their phones. Kalea knew that look well. It was a mixture of pity and a hunger for gossip.
The phone on the bedside table vibrated against the hard plastic, a harsh, buzzing sound that seemed to drill into Kalea's temples. The screen lit up, displaying a single word: Mother.
Kalea stared at the name. Her hand hovered in the air, fingers trembling slightly. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was a physical resistance, her body rejecting the impending interaction before her mind even processed it. She let it buzz three times, four times. On the fifth buzz, she picked it up and swiped the green icon.
"Eleanor," Kalea said. Her voice was a rasp, dry and unused.
"You're late," Eleanor Alexander's voice came through the speaker, crystal clear and devoid of any warmth. There was no question about her health, no inquiry about why she was in a private hospital room on a Tuesday afternoon. "Haleigh's birthday dinner starts in two hours. The stylist has been waiting at the penthouse for forty minutes."
Kalea felt a spasm in her stomach, a tight knot of nausea that had nothing to do with the medication. She sat up, the room tilting dangerously. She closed her eyes until the dizziness passed.
"I'm in the hospital, Mother," Kalea said, forcing the words out through grit teeth. "I had my stomach pumped six hours ago."
"And now you are awake," Eleanor cut in, her tone clipped. "This is a family event, Kalea. The press will be there. The Prestons will be there. We need a united front for the merger announcements. I don't care if you have to crawl there, you will be in that ballroom."
Kalea looked down at the back of her hand. The IV tape was peeling slightly at the corner. She imagined Haleigh right now, standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the family estate, surrounded by assistants fawning over her hemline, sipping sparkling water with a slice of organic lemon. Haleigh, the perfect daughter. Haleigh, the one who didn't end up in emergency rooms.
A cold, bitter laugh escaped Kalea's lips. It was the sound of something breaking, or perhaps, something finally hardening.
"One million," Kalea said.
The line went silent. For a moment, Kalea could hear the background noise on the other end-the clinking of silverware, the murmur of staff preparing for the party. Then, the sound of Eleanor's sharp intake of breath.
"Excuse me?" Eleanor asked, her voice dropping an octave.
"You want me to play the part of the dutiful sister and the happy fiancée?" Kalea leaned back against the pillows, staring at the sterile wall. "My appearance fee is one million dollars. Seven figures. Transfer it now, or you can explain to the press why your eldest daughter is absent."
"You mercenary little-" Eleanor's composure cracked, venom seeping through the phone. "You are an Alexander. You do not hold your family for ransom. After everything we have done to clean up your messes, you dare to ask for money?"
Kalea gripped the phone so tight her knuckles turned white. The plastic case dug into her palm. "Clean up my messes?" she whispered, the memory of a cold examination table and flashlights in her eyes flickering through her mind. She pushed it down. "Transfer the money, Eleanor. Or I stay in this bed."
There was a pause, heavy and suffocating. Then, Eleanor's voice returned, cold as ice. "Fine. But fix your face. You look like a corpse."
The call ended. Kalea lowered the phone, her chest heaving as if she had just run a mile.
Seconds later, a notification chimed. A deposit of $1,000,000 had been made to the immediate-access trust account linked to her name. An account Eleanor had set up, one she no doubt still had strings attached to. But for now, the money was hers to command.
Kalea stared at the number. It was a lot of money to most people. To Eleanor, it was a nuisance fee. A line item in the budget for image maintenance.
Kalea reached for the IV line on her hand. She didn't call the nurse. She didn't hesitate. She ripped the tape off and pulled the needle out in one smooth, jagged motion.
Blood welled up instantly, a bright red bead that turned into a trickle, running down the side of her hand and dripping onto the pristine white sheet.
"Ms. Alexander!" The nurse gasped, rushing over from the corner of the room with a gauze pad. "What are you doing? You haven't been discharged!"
Kalea watched the nurse press the gauze over the wound. She didn't feel the sting. She felt numb, a spreading coldness that started in her chest and worked its way out to her extremities.
"I'm leaving," Kalea said. Her legs felt like jelly as she swung them over the edge of the bed. She gripped the mattress, waiting for the black spots in her vision to clear.
She walked to the narrow closet in the corner of the room. Hanging there was a garment bag Eleanor's assistant must have dropped off earlier. Kalea unzipped it. Inside was a dress that was undeniably beautiful and completely not her style. It was a pale, icy blue, high-necked, conservative. It was a dress for a doll. A dress for a prop.
Kalea moved to the small mirror over the sink. Her reflection stared back-hollow cheeks, pale lips, dark circles under eyes that looked too old for her twenty-four years. She looked like a ghost haunting her own life.
She picked up a makeup brush from the kit on the counter. She wielded it like a weapon. Layer by layer, she painted over the exhaustion. Foundation to hide the pallor. Concealer to hide the shadows. And finally, a deep, blood-red lipstick to hide the fact that her lips were trembling.
The door to the room swung open with a bang. The sound of rapid, angry high heels clattered against the linoleum floor.
"I swear to God, if you are dead, I am going to kill you myself," a voice shouted.
Frida O'Connor stood in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag that smelled of grease and comfort. She took one look at Kalea standing there in the icy blue gown, her face painted for war, and the bag slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
"Kalea?" Frida's eyes went wide. "What the hell? You just had your stomach pumped. You're supposed to be resting. Why are you dressed like... that?"
Kalea picked up her phone and turned the screen toward Frida, showing the bank notification.
"I sold my soul for the evening," Kalea said, a humorless smile stretching her red lips. "Or rented it, at least."
Frida looked at the phone, then back at Kalea's face. Her expression shifted from shock to fury. "They're making you go? To Haleigh's birthday? After you-" Frida stopped, her voice choking up. "I saw the Instagram post, Kalea. Haleigh posted a 'family' photo an hour ago. Just her, your parents, and... him. The caption was 'My whole world.' You weren't even tagged."
Kalea felt a sharp pierce in her chest, precise and deep. She turned away from Frida, reaching back to pull the zipper of the dress up. It snagged for a moment, then closed with a finality that sounded like a prison door locking.
"It doesn't matter," Kalea said, staring at her reflection one last time. "This is the last time, Frida. I promise."
View More Comments on App
Other books by Sakakawea
More/0/89213/coverbig.jpg?v=c48768381d82b76d4ea0f39656970b34)
Five Years, One Devastating Lie
RomanceMy husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage. Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer. An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them? The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind? I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."
/1/102555/coverbig.jpg?v=d210300266401538383930c5fa2037f4)
Faked Death, Found Freedom
ModernAt eight months pregnant, I discovered my husband Holden' s secret living trust. The password wasn't our anniversary, but the birthday of his young protégée, Anika. His entire fortune wasn't for me or our unborn child. It was all for her. When I confronted him, the truth was a death sentence. He called me a "vessel," a surrogate to carry an heir for Anika, who was too fragile to bear a child herself. "She will raise him," he said, his eyes cold. Then I found the recordings. Once our son was born, I was to be eliminated in a "tragic accident." My seven-year marriage was a lie, a transaction to produce an heir. They wanted me dead and my baby stolen. So I gave them one of their wishes. I faked my own death, burned my old life to the ground, and disappeared with my son.
/1/101836/coverbig.jpg?v=c3d36d47b14591d95da5fc639acfb91e)
Died Alone, My Spirit Watches
Romance"We'll release one woman. Your choice, Mr. Shannon." Facing the kidnappers, my husband didn't hesitate. He pointed at his sobbing high school sweetheart, Flora. "Release Flora," he commanded, his voice steady. "She's fragile. Adrianne is tough enough to handle this." I tried to tell him I was bleeding, that I was pregnant with our first child, but he pushed me toward the knife without a backward glance. "Don't be dramatic, Adrianne," were his last words to me. I died alone in that cold, dark basement. But my soul didn't leave. I hovered invisibly, watching as my husband ignored calls from my phone for two days. He told his friends I was just "playing games" to punish him for saving Flora. He didn't know those calls were from my killers, laughing at his stupidity while his wife lay dead. It wasn't until my brother dragged him to the morgue and ripped the sheet off my body that his arrogance finally shattered. "She was carrying your child, you idiot!" Staring at my pale, lifeless face, the crisis manager who thought he could fix everything fell to his knees, a broken man. But tears won't bring me back. And now, he has to pay.
/0/86637/coverbig.jpg?v=12630a491edcd39376ac1d599fe7407a)
Betrayed Bride, Reborn Architect
RomanceMy masterpiece, "Greenhaven," was about to change the world. Five years of my life, my soul, poured into sustainable architecture, culminating tonight in a grand unveiling. I scanned the ballroom for David, my fiancé, my partner in work and life. We were a team, meant to marry after this launch. But he was distant, cloaked in late-night meetings, telling me to trust him. Then I saw him on stage, not with me, but with Victoria Hayes, my ruthless rival, her arm possessively around his waist. The CEO announced "Elysian Fields," a project backed by David Thompson and Victoria Hayes. My designs flashed on screen, every detail mine, but my name was nowhere. The applause was thunderous. David leaned into the microphone, his smile sickeningly bright. "Victoria has not only been my partner in business but has become the partner of my heart. We're engaged." Cameras flashed, capturing their faces, the thieves who stole my life's work and my future. My phone vibrated: a text from my boss. "Don't come to the office tomorrow. You're done. We can't be associated with this kind of scandal." Blacklisted, ruined. In one moment, I lost my project, my fiancé, my career. My world, built around David, crumbled. I stumbled out into the night, nowhere to go. My apartment was our apartment; my friends our friends. I had one last, desperate hope: my estranged uncle Robert. He was a disgraced civil engineer, a recluse I hadn't spoken to in a decade. "Sarah?" he answered, his voice raspy. "Uncle Robert," I choked, "I need help. I have nowhere else to go." A long pause, then: "I have a car coming for you. It will be there in twenty minutes. It will bring you to me." He hung up. Sliding down the cold brick wall, I understood. I was leaving my old life behind, a lie. I was running toward a future I couldn't imagine, a future that began with a man I barely knew. My only family left. But the betrayal didn't stop there. Weeks later, David arrived at my uncle's, demanding I sign away my design rights, threatening to sue me for breach of partnership. Victoria emerged, displaying expertly faked emails framing me for industrial espionage. "Sign the papers, Sarah," Victoria hissed. "Or this gets leaked to every news outlet and the district attorney. Industrial espionage carries a hefty prison sentence." Just when I thought I was utterly trapped, two large men grabbed me. "Take her. We'll hold her somewhere she can have time to reconsider her position." I was thrown into a car, plunged into darkness. They weren't just destroying my career; they were taking my freedom. The cold isolation in their private facility was designed to break me, but it only fueled my rage. Victoria appeared, demanding I sign a confession, cementing their false narrative. "No," I defied. The guard tasered me. But the real breaking point came when Victoria, with chilling calm, slammed a heavy book onto my hand, twisting my fingers at unnatural angles. "Architects are nothing without their hands," she sneered. My scream echoed the agony and a new, burning hatred. They were celebrating their wedding in my designed atrium in two days, while I was imprisoned, crippled. They aimed to destroy me, but they had only forged me into something stronger. This was no longer about a career or a broken heart. This was about justice. This was war.
/1/103582/coverbig.jpg?v=fb5b6af4f48238271e0ff9827afb0637)
From Jilted Bride To Ruthless CEO
ModernI was Jocelyn Cruz, heiress to a billion-dollar empire, and I was supposed to marry my childhood sweetheart, Jake. My father had groomed him to be my king, and our life was a storybook romance. But just before my 25th birthday gala, I saw him kissing Djuna-the fragile orphan my father took in, the woman I treated like a sister. Their betrayal ran deeper than I could imagine. They drugged me to cause a riding accident, then gaslit me to make me think I was losing my mind. At a public auction, Jake froze my accounts and bought a family heirloom I cherished, only to gift it to her in front of everyone, leaving me broken and humiliated. He wanted to shatter me, to turn me into a mindless puppet he could control. So when he played a secret video of me crying for him at my own birthday party, I didn't break. Instead, I smiled. Because I had my own recordings, and I was about to show everyone the vipers he and his "true love" really were.
/0/86907/coverbig.jpg?v=ea2393805bc96447cef8c8e01f50eee3)
His Cruelty, Her Rebirth
RomanceI died once, charred by the flames that consumed me in a house set ablaze by the man who vowed to destroy me. On his 23rd birthday, I was reborn back to a day they called the "blind pick," where 20 women vied for the chance to become Ethan Thompson' s wife. In my past life, I drew the red card, believing it a fairytale beginning, only for Ethan to blame me when his true love, Scarlett, died in a car accident he barely remembered. He never believed me, never listened, his hatred burning hotter than any love we once shared. He dragged me into our home, his eyes filled with terrifying darkness. "You took her from me," he whispered, tightening his hands around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you." He beat me, doused the room in gasoline, and watched with twisted satisfaction as I burned, branded a murderer and unloved. Reborn, I found Scarlett, the true manipulator, still alive, ready to claim Ethan' s love. I avoided the red card that day, trying to escape a cursed fate Ethan, still the monster, forced me on my knees, made me watch him brutally murder my beloved dog, Sunny, and then cooked it for me to eat. He coerced me into donating my kidney to Scarlett, claiming I owed her, all while Scarlett and her mother, Maria, gloated about their deception, admitting they engineered every twisted event after my original death. Why did they do this? How could Ethan be so blind, so cruel, after I saved his life? But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. I signed the organ donation papers, but my escape was already in motion, orchestrated by my family and a forgotten friend.
You'll also like
/1/101418/coverbig.jpg?v=d2f85018e2899e922621a98046c4cb2c)
Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge
RabbitMy husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.
/0/78074/coverbig.jpg?v=33be47cb9bf2e9ee13aab96be12d99d2)
Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart
Audrey C LeilaniLuna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.
/0/77277/coverbig.jpg?v=a86bff6b59d20bdaf60c7f33dd496c80)
When Love Is A Lie
Ingrim DempsterKatherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"
/0/64977/coverbig.jpg?v=02e092613713dd4e070d4c5259584f8c)
Reborn And Remade: Pursued By The Billionaire
CancanIn her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."
/1/105410/coverbig.jpg?v=a5437111c15a40b1920987fddb1ddf34)
One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel StoneI woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.
/0/86394/coverbig.jpg?v=6c717af0cf3e2e392924cb63e04f2a1b)
Irresistible Seduction: Married For Deception, Loved For Real
Chickie KertisFive years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
Referrals
TOP
APP STORE
GOOGLE PLAY