The broken heiress: lost it all, boldly taking it back

Gunshots shattered the silence, the echoes ricocheting through the room.

The fight ended almost as quickly as it started. Logan's movements were precise, deadly, and efficient. In less than five minutes, all the intruders lay motionless. Thomas stood to the side, his expression calm, as if watching such chaos unfold was part of his daily routine.

With the flick of his wrist, Logan unrolled his sleeves, smoothing them meticulously before taking his suit jacket from Thomas. His face betrayed no emotion, but the lethal aura surrounding him was undeniable.

The elevator chimed softly, revealing a group of men who quickly set to work clearing the bodies.

"Looks like someone needs a permanent reminder," Logan remarked. His voice had the sharp chill of a glacier. It was a tone that could cut through the warmest of emotions yet remained eerily calm. Together, he and Thomas stepped into the elevator.

***

Isabelle is in a study room that she casually found. Using the computer on the desk, she comes online with a new social account. She searches for Sonia's account, and it pops up.

Her heart thudded dully as the profile popped up, displaying pictures of Sonia's radiant smiles and an aura of innocence that felt painfully hypocritical.

A particular photo caught Isabelle's eye—Sonia and Catherine at a beach, the sun casting a golden glow over their carefree expressions. Isabelle's jaw tightened. If I had actually ended up dead, they would've gotten away with it... and enjoying their lives while I rotted.

Her phone vibrates; the name on the screen made her stomach churn. It was a message from Sonia.

Speak of the devil.

[Hy Isabelle:) There is going to be an audition at Starlight Entertainment tomorrow. You should definitely participate]

Isabelle's heart skipped. Starlight Entertainment? The company was legendary, a dream for aspiring actresses and models. Every one of their models and actresses is very popular both locally and globally.

[Really?? I will gladly participate :)]

[Great! I'll send you the address.]

---

Sonia flashed a smug smile as she typed in the address on her phone. Her posture was relaxed as she sat on a plush sofa, her legs elegantly crossed on a stool. Williams, her partner, appeared behind her and planted a loving kiss on her cheek before settling onto the couch beside her.

Sonia's expression softened, her eyes flickering with faux sweetness. "How was work, babe?" she purred, tilting her head up to look at him.

"It was hectic. I missed you so much. Did you miss me?" His gaze was teasing, his tone suggestive.

Sonia's lips curled into a delicate pout as she ran her fingers across his jawline. "Of course I missed you," she cooed, her voice honeyed.

William smirked as he snaked his arm into her tank top, his fingers caressing her nipple.

A soft moan escapes her lips as she strokes his crotch, feeling a bulge form in his trousers in response. In a swift motion, he scooped her up and laid her out on the sofa. Sonia giggled, her lashes fluttering with mock innocence. 

Sonia whispered shyly, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Are we... doing it here?"

Williams grinned wickedly. "I made sure the servants wouldn't disturb us," he murmured, unbuckling his trousers.

Sonia's smirk deepened inwardly, her mind briefly flicking to Ruby. I hope you're watching from hell, Ruby. He's mine, wrapped around my finger.

---

Isabelle stayed indoors all day surfing through the internet researching Starlight Industry. She sent Alice on an errand. Tired and exhausted, she rests her head on the desk and falls asleep.

She has a dream. Logan in front of her, his deep red eyes full of smiles. She noticed they were at a wedding venue, and she was the bride.

"Do you accept him as your lawfully wedded husband?" She hears the priest remark.

"I do" She found herself saying those words, like she wasn't in control as she saw herself putting a ring on Logan's finger.

"Do you accept her as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." He did likewise.

"May the groom kiss the bride."

Logan leaned closer, but as his lips neared hers, a sharp pain tore through her abdomen. Isabelle gasped, her hands flying to the source of the agony. A knife protruded from her stomach, its hilt gripped by Logan. His smirk twisted into something dark and cruel as she collapsed to the ground.

"Why..." she heard herself say.

"That is what you deserve. Till death do us part," Logan sneered at her.

Logan is back at home; every servant he passed straightened, their faces a blend of respect and apprehension. His presence, commanding and deliberate, made the atmosphere feel charged. He didn't slow down as he approached the chief servant.

"Where is she?" Logan's piercing gaze left no room for hesitation.

"In the study room, sir," the servant responded, bowing slightly.

Logan nodded once and made his way to the study. When he pushed the door open, the sight before him made him pause. Isabelle was slumped over the desk, her breathing uneven, beads of sweat glistening on her brow.

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. Her lips moved faintly, forming fragmented words.

"Why..." she murmured, her voice fraught with distress.

Logan crouched beside her, his hand hesitating for a moment before he gently shook her shoulder. "Isabelle, wake up," he said, his voice steady, trying to sound soft. "You're having a nightmare."

Isabelle's eyes fluttered open, wide, and disoriented. The moment her gaze met Logan's, she jerked back instinctively, the motion so sudden that she slipped off her chair and landed on the floor with a muted thud.

"Ouch!" she winced, rubbing her lower back as her cheeks flushed. "You startled me," she added quickly, attempting to mask her embarrassment.

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Were you having a terrible dream?" His tone was calm, but his penetrating stare made her uncomfortable.

Her mind flashed back to the dream—the wedding, his cold eyes, the knife, and the blood. A shiver coursed through her as she forced a nervous laugh. "Kind of," she said, avoiding his gaze. "But I'm fine now. A bath will fix it."

Logan didn't miss the way her voice wavered or the slight tremor in her hands. Without a word, he stepped closer and scooped her up effortlessly.

"It's fine…" Isabelle gasped, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "I can take myself there."

Logan ignored her protest, his expression unreadable. He carried her out of the study, his strides steady and purposeful. She realizes they are not heading towards her bedroom but instead towards the dining room. He carefully guides her to a seat and helps her sit down.

"You need to eat," he said simply, signaling the chief servant. "Dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Isabelle muttered, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. The remnants of her dream still lingered, and being around Logan wasn't helping. It was just a dream, right? 

Logan tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. "What would you like to eat?" he asked, ignoring her protest.

Realizing he wasn't going to let this go, Isabelle sighed. "Fine. Pancakes with chocolate yogurt."

The servants disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her alone with Logan. The silence stretched, and Isabelle fidgeted under his watchful eyes. Thirty minutes later, when the dessert arrived, she forced a bite, and her face softened as the sweet flavors melted on her tongue.

"This is... really good," she admitted, momentarily distracted.

Logan's intense gaze didn't waver as she finished her plate. When the table was cleared, Logan lifted her once more and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. He set her down gently on the bed, leaving Isabelle unsure of how she should react.

"You remember our agreement," he reminded her. "To behave intimately around others."

Oh, so that's what this is about.

Isabelle suddenly recalled their contract marriage and her secondary mission within it. She made a facial expression that showed she understood and was willing to fulfill her end of the deal. The man's gaze lingered before he turned and exited the room.

In the solitude of his room, Logan's demeanor shifted. He approached the bookshelf, his fingers brushing against a concealed button. With a quiet click, a hidden door slid open, revealing a dimly lit corridor. The fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow as he walked down the passage.

At the end, he entered a room dominated by a large portrait. His eyes lingered on it, a storm brewing within him. His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his hands flexed until his knuckles cracked audibly.

Turning abruptly, he headed toward another door. When it opened, the sharp scent of metal and blood hit the air. The man inside was barely conscious, his body a canvas of cuts and bruises.

Logan's presence was enough to make the man flinch. "You won't get anything out of me," the captive rasped as he lay on the floor, weak from all the pain that is coursing through his entire body. 

Logan's lips curled into a cold smile. "We'll see about that." He strode to a table and picked up a syringe filled with a swirling red-and-black serum. The man's eyes widened in terror.

"No…please…I beg you..." the man pleaded. He knows what that serum is and what it can do. It's better to die a quick death than be injected with the serum.

"I'll talk!"

Logan raised a brow, his gaze icy. "Who sent you?"

"I am from the Emerald group. I and my men were sent here to retrieve the lost key to the Golden Treasury."

Logan already knew that part.

"Who gave you the intel that it would be here?"

"I only followed orders from my master. I don't know the intel."

A tinge of annoyance appeared on his face. Whoever revealed the location wants to ruin his plan. If the Emerald group knows, it means the other group knows, and it will become a bloody battle.

His patience thinned, his expression darkening. "You were never going to find it anyway," he muttered, stepping closer with the syringe.

The man's breathing quickened, panic etched into every line of his face. "One of our high members," he blurted out, his words tumbling over each other, "is attending the masked party! That's all I know. Please... please spare me."

Logan stopped mid-step, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he lowered the syringe and placed it back on the table with unnerving precision. He turned back to the man, his gaze icy. "I guess you're still useful... for now."

Relief washed over him, but he knew better than to feel safe. Logan reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His fingers danced over the screen as he brought it to his ear.

"I have a job for you," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. Ending the call, Logan cast one last glance at the trembling man before exiting the room.