Ruthless Resurrection: The Outlaw Heiress Returns

"All right, Aimee Bennett-your sentence ends today. Someone came to take you out of here."

The officer's icy announcement rolled through the visitation room while Aimee hovered over her final release form. Her pen stalled mid-stroke, a dark bead of ink sinking into the page.

Lifting her head with a stiff, weary motion, she caught sight of the man waiting beyond the iron bars-Laurence Bennett, the Bennett family's polished second son, her so-called brother by blood.

"Mom and Dad insisted I come here to bring you home." His tailored suit sat flawlessly on his broad frame, and the gleam of his high-end watch flickered under the harsh ceiling lights. "These three years must have been rough. We'll make it up to you."

Make it up to her? The thought tugged a dry, humorless scoff from her chest. That honeyed promise-she'd heard it once before, in her previous life.

She was the real daughter of the Bennett family, but a nurse had accidentally placed another newborn girl in the bed with her name on it, leading that girl to live her life.

When that girl, Rylie Bennett, was facing prison time, the Bennett family sought her out, acknowledged her as the true Bennett daughter and Rylie's sister, and then lured her into taking the sentence in Rylie's place.

Those brutal years crawled by, and when the cell door finally opened, no one from the Bennett family bothered to show up. Thugs hired by Rylie cornered her on the roadside and tortured her to death like she was nothing.

In the aftermath, the Bennett family erased her from their family tree with frightening speed, refusing even to retrieve her ashes.

Bitterness gnawed at her.

Her spirit drifted for what felt like an eternity, fueled by a hatred so sharp it kept her tethered to the world.

Only then did she uncover the truth that cut deeper than any betrayal-her swapped life had been the Bennett family's doing.

Years ago, a so-called fortune teller declared she would doom the Bennett family, and her biological parents deliberately traded her for Rylie, abandoning her to grow up in a remote village with strangers.

That festering resentment had dragged on for so many lonely years that it clawed open a second chance, hurling her back into the third year of her sentence.

Armed with the memories of her past life, she had quietly joined forces with Andreas Reid, a powerful business magnate whose influence smoothed the path to her early release.

Back to the present-she set the pen aside, her tone disturbingly steady. "Three years ago, when you dragged me back into the Bennett family, you fed me the same promise-that you'd make it up to me."

Her gaze lifted, flat and cold. "And what did I get in return? I took Rylie's place in that commercial fraud case and spent three years being beaten down inside those walls."

A shadow of irritation darkened Laurence's expression. "Things were complicated back then. Rylie's health was fragile... she never would've survived prison. As her sister, you should..."

So she was expected to sacrifice herself for that impostor?

A chilly laugh slipped from Aimee before she could stop it. "Laurence, did the entire Bennett family lose their minds? You're really choosing an outsider over your own blood?"

Laurence shot to his feet, palm slamming against the table. "Watch your fucking mouth, Aimee! Did you forget what basic manners are? Who gave you the damn right to talk about Rylie that way?"

Manners? Aimee let out a low, contemptuous chuckle. She'd been tossed aside by her own parents and raised on the pity of strangers-where exactly was she supposed to have learned these refined "manners" he liked to preach about?

She refused to waste another breath on him. Scooping up her few belongings-a worn canvas bag with frayed straps-she strode toward the door without looking back.

Laurence's voice erupted behind her. "Hold it right there! If you walk away from the Bennett family now, where the hell do you think you're going?"

She didn't bother turning around. "Somewhere I actually belong," she muttered, her voice low and edged with finality.

Warm light spilled over her as she pushed through the prison gates, making her eyes sting. Three years locked away from the sun had nearly erased the memory of how gentle its heat could feel on her skin.

While she lingered by the gate, a sleek black Maybach eased to the curb, its tinted window gliding down to reveal a man she didn't recognize.

"Miss Bennett, I'm here on Mr. Reid's orders to pick you up," the driver informed, his tone steady and deferential as he stepped out to open the door.

Aimee dipped her chin in acknowledgment and slid into the plush interior without a flicker of doubt.

From the rearview mirror, she caught sight of Laurence bursting out of the prison gates, frozen in stunned disbelief as the multimillion-dollar luxury car carried her away.

Within the upscale enclave of Serenity Estates, Aimee's ride glided to a halt at the foot of a grand estate-an imposing villa that sprawled across nearly a thousand square meters.

In the courtyard, Andreas in a perfectly cut black suit stood with his back to her, fingertips brushing a maple leaf as he admired the trees.

"Mr. Reid, Miss Aimee Bennett just arrived," the driver murmured with a respectful tilt of his head.

At that, Andreas pivoted with unhurried grace. Sunlight flared behind him, casting a warm halo around his tall frame.

For the first time, Aimee truly took in the famed business titan-early thirties, lean lines sharpened by power, and eyes with a hawk-like clarity that made the air around him shift.

"Aimee Bennett." His voice rolled across the courtyard, low and steady, as he spoke her name. "You're nothing like the picture I had in my head."

In Andreas's mind, the woman who had predicted three market crashes from inside a prison cell-earning him billions-had seemed like someone who would be formidable in appearance. Instead, Aimee stood before him, thinner than expected, her skin washed pale, yet her eyes burned with a sharp, arresting clarity.

"What version of me did you expect, Mr. Reid?" Aimee held his gaze without flinching, her posture calm but unyielding.

A slow smile tugged at Andreas's lips. Those vividly bright eyes-he'd seen them, frame after frame, in every video conference with her. No matter how brutal life had been, the spark in those eyes had never once gone out.

He shifted the conversation, lifting a hand toward the opulent villa towering behind him. "What's your impression of this place?"

Aimee let her gaze sweep across the grounds. "Serenity Estates ranks as the most exclusive neighborhood in the city. This one sits on the prime south-facing ridge, with a garden crafted by a renowned landscape artist, and the interior..."

"So... it appeals to you?" he cut in, voice steady. "If that's the case, then consider it yours-a small gesture to mark our partnership."

Aimee felt a jolt at the sheer scale of his generosity. Every villa in Serenity Estates easily carried a price tag of at least three hundred million.

"Mr. Reid, you're surprisingly lavish," she remarked, steadying her breath as she faced him. "Aren't you worried I'll cash it out and disappear?"

Andreas closed the distance with unhurried steps, the warm trace of sandalwood drifting from his suit as he stopped before her. "Miss Bennett, the fortune you earned for me could pay for ten more just like it. And besides..."

His voice dipped with purpose. "You and I are working toward the same end."

Aimee understood perfectly. They were both aiming to topple the Bennett Group.

In her previous life, Andreas once waged a brutal, high-profile acquisition war against the Bennett Group-one that left both sides in ruins.

"Here's to our partnership prospering." She offered a handshake with quiet resolve.

Andreas accepted it, his fingers cool against her skin. "Your room's upstairs on the second floor. The walk-in closet's already been stocked. Go rest for a bit," he said, his voice steady as his gaze flicked briefly over her, almost protective.

...

Back at the Bennett family's villa, tension was already brewing.

"You're kidding-she actually got into someone else's car?" Henrik Bennett, Aimee's father, slammed his fist against the table, the sharp crack rattling the dishes. "Does she even see us as her family anymore?"

Sonya Bennett, Aimee's mother, dabbed at her damp lashes, her voice trembling. "Is she still holding a grudge against us for making her take the sentence in Rylie's place? Rylie grew up sheltered... she never could've survived a prison cell."

"Mom, please don't work yourself up," Rylie murmured as she stepped out of the kitchen, balancing a tray of warm cookies, her eyes still rimmed with red. "Everything spiraled because of me. If I hadn't messed up back then, Aimee wouldn't have suffered. I'll go get her right now and make things right."

Jackson Bennett, the eldest son of the Bennett family, cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Don't even think about it." He planted himself in her path. "You're in no condition to dash around the city."

He turned toward Laurence, asking. "Laurence, tell me-who does that car belong to?"

Laurence's brow tightened, a faint crease forming between his eyes. "That plate looks familiar... Wait-I've got it. That's Andreas Reid's car. I saw the exact model at the finance summit last month."

A sharp breath escaped Jackson. "Andreas Reid?" His expression darkened. "Why would Aimee have any connection to a man like him?"

A heavy stillness swept across the living room, settling over everyone like a storm cloud.

Reid Group and Bennett Group had been bitter rivals for years. And if Aimee had truly aligned herself with Andreas...

"Not a chance," Rylie cut in, her sugary tone masking the bite beneath. "Aimee was a country girl who rotted in prison for three years. How would someone like her ever cross paths with Andreas? There must be a misunderstanding or coincidence."

She lowered her gaze, letting her lashes shield the gleam of spite gathering in her eyes.

How could that bitch ever be worthy of standing anywhere near Andreas? This had to be nothing more than a glaring mistake.

Not that it mattered. Even with Aimee walking free, she still held countless methods to drag that worthless woman straight back behind bars.

And this time, she intended to ensure Aimee never walked out again.

Aimee had barely reached the last step, still weighing her next move, when Andreas snapped his fingers.

At once, the villa filled with the rhythmic thud of synchronized footsteps.

More than thirty impeccably trained servants streamed out from the inner hall, assembling themselves into three flawless rows with military precision.

At the front stood a poised woman in her early forties. She dipped her head in a graceful bow, her voice steady and warm. "Miss Bennett, welcome. I'm the housekeeper, Vicki Saunders. Please feel free to call me Vicki."

The moment her introduction ended, the servants behind her spoke in perfect unison, their greeting rolling through the hall like a practiced chorus. "Miss Bennett!"

Aimee lifted a brow and flicked a questioning look toward Andreas. "Mr. Reid, what exactly is this supposed to mean?"

Andreas gave a faint, knowing curl of his lips, his voice steady and unyielding. "The Bennett family might refuse to acknowledge you, but I won't."

The words landed harder than she expected, sending a quick jolt through Aimee's chest.

Fresh out of prison and officially cut off from the Bennett family, she knew it was only a matter of time before everyone in high society learned she'd been tossed aside like she never existed. By then, anyone could step on her without consequence.

Yet Andreas's quiet intervention felt like a public decree-Aimee Bennett belonged under his shield now.

"I appreciate it, Mr. Reid-truly." Her voice softened, almost swallowed by the room's stillness. She understood perfectly well that he wasn't some benevolent savior-he extended dignity only to those who served a purpose.

Even so, that was enough for her. Compared to those cold-blooded relatives, Andreas, as an ally, proved far more reliable.

"Vicki has been working for me for years. You can trust her with anything," Andreas said, offering a brief, confident nod before turning away.

Aimee quickened her steps to follow him. "Mr. Reid, about our cooperation..."

He didn't slow, yet his voice drifted back to her with effortless authority. "There's no hurry. I'm looking forward to seeing what you're capable of, Miss Bennett."

With that final remark, the Maybach's door clicked shut and the engine's soft growl drifted into the distance, leaving only a faint trail of exhaust in the cool air.

He really left her here without a second thought?!

Aimee narrowed her eyes, a slow breath steadying her pulse. Fine. Being left alone only meant she finally had room to strategize.

"Miss Bennett, this was arranged specifically for you by Mr. Reid." Vicki stepped forward and offered a sleek black bank card resting on her open palm. "There's no spending limit. You may use it however you like."

A faint, appreciative smile curved across Aimee's lips as she took the card. Andreas truly knew how to be generous when he wanted to be.

"You've just gotten out. You should take some time to rest well," Vicki said gently, her tone wrapped in warmth. "The bath is prepared. Once you're done, I'll give you a proper tour."

Aimee offered a quiet nod and trailed after the servants, her steps light as they guided her upstairs.

Steam drifted through the bathroom, carrying the warm sweetness of rose oil and the calming trace of aromatherapy.

Reclining along the smooth rim of the bathtub, she let her eyes drift shut, letting the scent coax her nerves into stillness as the past month replayed in her mind.

After her rebirth, her first instinct had been to reach out to Andreas.

In her previous life-after her body failed and she roamed as nothing more than a restless shadow-she had watched every brutal clash between Andreas and the Bennett family.

For all his cold-blooded tactics, he had been generous toward anyone who earned his trust.

She had rolled the dice on a wild plan. By forecasting three major market swings with razor-sharp accuracy, she warned Andreas exactly when to duck the incoming risks.

In exchange, he pulled strings to secure her early release and quietly funneled her the funds she needed to start over.

Her end of the bargain was simple-a tenfold return within three months.

"Andreas, you won't be failed." A low whisper slipped from her throat, a cold smile sharpening the edges of her face.

Vengeance alone wasn't enough-she intended to make the Bennett family watch from below as she climbed to a height none of them could ever reach.

Once she finished her bath, she stepped into the designer dress Vicki had set out, the fabric hugging her curves with effortless elegance. Soft curls framed her face, her makeup was polished to perfection, and her entire presence carried a new, commanding glow.

Vicki's gaze brightened with genuine admiration. "Miss Bennett, this style suits you incredibly well."

Aimee let a small, knowing smile tug at her lips. "I need you to look into someone for me-Nicola Gibson."

Starting fresh meant gathering allies, winning hearts, and rebuilding her power from the ground up.

An hour later, she arrived at Vogue Plaza, the glittering heart of every top luxury brand in the city.

As Aimee crossed the polished threshold of a boutique, a sales assistant glided toward her with a practiced smile. "Miss, is there a particular style you'd like today?"

Aimee hadn't even opened her mouth when a soft, sugar-coated voice chimed in behind her.

"Laurence, this dress is absolutely stunning!"

Aimee's fingers stilled, then she turned, cautious and unhurried.

Rylie clung to Laurence's arm like a spoiled ornament, her manicured finger aimed at a dress tagged at half a million dollars.

Laurence smoothed a hand over her hair with indulgent ease. "Go ahead and try it. If it suits you, we'll take it."

The sales assistant, who was serving them, stiffened, worry flickering across her face. "My apologies... this piece is limited edition. Customers aren't allowed to try it on."

Laurence's expression tightened, a shadow slipping across his features. "What's that supposed to mean? Worried we don't have the money?"

The sales assistant flinched and rushed to clarify. "Not at all, sir. It's simply the brand's policy..."

Before the sales assistant could finish, a smooth, icy female voice cut cleanly through the tension.

"Wrap it up. I'm buying it."