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Broken Doll's Revenge: The Heiress's Sting
img img Broken Doll's Revenge: The Heiress's Sting img Chapter 5 5
5 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 5 5

The apartment Anna shared with Sloane was in Queens. It was small, cluttered, and smelled of Sloane's acrylic paints and cheap incense. It was the only place in the world that felt like home.

Anna walked in and dropped her bag on the floor.

Sloane was sitting on the counter, eating cereal. She looked at Anna's face and put the spoon down.

"I saw the news," Sloane said. "He's a pig. A literal pig in a three-thousand-dollar suit."

"He's predictable," Anna said. She walked to the bedroom and pulled a suitcase from under the bed.

"You're leaving?" Sloane asked, hopping off the counter.

"I'm moving the timeline up," Anna said. She started throwing clothes into the bag. "I can't stay in the penthouse anymore. It's not safe."

She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone. She opened the Signal group chat.

Jaylene was sending photos of flower arrangements for the gala. Victoria was sending heart emojis.

Anna didn't type a goodbye. She didn't type a curse word.

She tapped the three dots in the corner.

Leave Group.

System Message: Anna Roth has left the group.

It was a small line of text in a sea of sycophancy. But it felt like pulling the pin on a grenade.

In a glass-walled office in Midtown, Grayson Warren was in a meeting about the Tressel acquisition.

His phone sat face up on the mahogany table.

The notification popped up.

Anna Roth has left the group.

Grayson frowned. He stopped listening to the lawyer droning on about liability caps.

She left the group?

Anna never did anything without permission. She didn't have the spine for it. She was probably throwing a tantrum because of the Page Six article.

He picked up the phone. He opened her contact.

He tapped out a message, then deleted it. This wasn't a lover's quarrel; it was a breach of protocol. He dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Same result.

A cold spike of adrenaline hit his stomach. It wasn't heartbreak. It was the shock of a tool malfunctioning in his hand.

The door to his office burst open.

Preston Warren, his older brother, stormed in. Preston looked pale. He was holding a tablet.

"Get out," Preston barked at the lawyers. "Now."

The lawyers scrambled to gather their papers and fled.

"What is it?" Grayson asked, standing up. "Did Anna call you?"

"Worse," Preston said. He threw the tablet onto the desk. "Look at this."

Grayson looked.

It was a grainy video feed. Security footage. The timestamp was twenty minutes ago.

The location was the pedestrian path of the Queensboro Bridge.

A woman was standing by the railing. She was wearing a beige trench coat. Her hair was whipping in the wind.

It was Anna.

She was leaning over the rail. She was looking down at the dark, churning water of the East River. She looked small. She looked desperate.

In the video, she raised her hand. She was holding something.

"Is she..." Grayson's voice failed him.

"She's going to jump," Preston hissed. "Or she's thinking about it. This was sent to our PR team by a freelancer. We bought it before it hit TMZ."

On the screen, Anna threw the object into the water. Then she stood there, staring down, her hands gripping the rail.

Grayson felt his heart hammer against his ribs.

He didn't care if she died. He told himself that. But if she died now, right after the Jaylene news...

"If she jumps," Preston said, "Warren Capital tanks. We look like monsters. Jaylene's soft launch becomes a PR massacre."

Grayson stared at the figure on the screen.

"She's not going to jump," Grayson whispered. "She's too weak."

But his hands were shaking.

"Find her," Preston yelled. "Call security. Get her back. Put her in a clinic. Drug her. I don't care. Just get her off that bridge and out of the public eye."

Grayson grabbed his jacket. He ran out of the office.

He pulled out his phone as he sprinted to the elevator. He opened the tracking app he had installed on her phone three years ago.

Signal Lost.

The dot was gone.

She had thrown the phone into the river.

That's what he saw on the video. She wasn't jumping. She was destroying the leash.

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded his veins.

"Anna," he growled as the elevator doors closed. "You stupid, stupid girl."

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