The Discarded Heiress Owns The Wasteland

The cold floor bit into Casey's cheek. A sharp, throbbing pain exploded at the base of her skull, pulling her from the void. Her eyes snapped open.

Blurry lights. The smell of synthetic cleaner and expensive perfume. Not the wasteland. Not the smell of ash and rot.

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She rolled, muscles coiling, pushing herself up into a crouch. Her hands curled into fists, knuckles white, ready to strike. Her eyes, sharp and cold as steel, swept the room.

A dressing room. Mirrors, bright lights, racks of clothes. A place for the privileged. A place she did not belong.

A wave of dizziness hit her. She grabbed the edge of the makeup counter, her nails scraping against the hard surface. Memories she had buried deep within her flooded her brain. Not just of the wasteland she had conquered-the decade spent as a ruthless warlord scavenging radioactive ruins, fighting feral mutants, leading a gang of hardened survivors. And then, the tear in reality. The blinding light. The death that was supposed to be final.

But death had not wanted her. Instead, she had woken up here. In a new body. A younger, softer body. A body that could do something her old one never could: shift. She could feel the beast coiled inside her ribs-a massive, fanged creature of fur and claw. In this strange future, she had become a shifter. A rare female. And in this society, females were treasures, allowed-even encouraged-to take multiple male mates.

The sharp click-clack of high heels echoed from the hallway. Fast. Deliberate. Getting closer.

The door flew open. Harsh light from the corridor spilled in, making Casey squint.

Coralie Henderson stood there. A white dress hugged her perfect body. Her face was a mask of concern, but her eyes flickered with a quick flash of disgust before she schooled her features.

"Sister!" Coralie rushed forward, hands outstretched, reaching for Casey's arm.

Casey moved. A simple shift of her body, a step to the side. Coralie's hands grabbed nothing but air. She stumbled slightly, her perfect smile freezing on her face.

"Don't touch me," Casey said. Her voice was flat. Empty.

Coralie blinked. Her eyes watered instantly. The tears looked practiced. "Casey, I'm so worried about you. You fell... you need to sign the contract. It's the only way to fix your reputation. Please, for the family."

Casey crossed her arms over her chest. She stared at Coralie. The girl was a terrible liar. Her pulse was steady. Her breathing was even. This was a performance.

Coralie shifted under the cold gaze. She swallowed hard and gestured to an assistant waiting by the door, who quickly brought a holographic tablet to her. Coralie snatched it and held it out like a shield.

"It's what Mommy wants," Coralie said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "She said if you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons."

Mommy. The word hit the air like a slap. Casey's eyes narrowed. A chill settled in her gaze. She reached out and snatched the tablet from Coralie's hands.

She didn't look at the main text. That was garbage. The main text was just the show's rules: survive on Planet A13 for one year, attract male mates, entertain the audience. The usual degrading spectacle designed to break people like her. She scrolled down, fast. Her eyes, trained by a decade of scanning for danger in the ruins, caught every word. Termination clauses. Liability waivers. And then, at the very bottom, in a font so small it was almost invisible.

Clause 7.4: Any participant surviving a full standard year on Planet A13 shall be granted absolute ownership of the planetary body and all resources contained therein.

Casey's breath hitched. A planet. Valued at 460 billion credits. A fortress. A home. A deal too good to be true. They thought they were sending a weak, disgraced girl to die on a monster-infested world, torn apart by beasts or rejected by her potential mates. But they didn't know about the wasteland. They didn't know about the

ten years of blood and fire. She was going to live. She was going to win. And she was going to own this planet.

Coralie leaned in, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I know it's scary, Casey. The wild planet is dangerous. But you have to try, right? For the men?"

Casey looked up. The cold calculation in her eyes made Coralie take a step back.

Casey grabbed the stylus from the counter. She pressed the tip to the screen. Coralie held her breath, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Casey signed her name. The strokes were sharp, aggressive, slashing across the digital paper like a blade.

A green light flashed. Contract binding.

Casey tossed the stylus onto the counter. It clattered loudly in the quiet room. She stood up straight. She was taller than Coralie. The height advantage, combined with the sheer force of her presence, turned the dynamic upside down.

Coralie stumbled back another step, her face pale.

Casey smirked. A look of pure contempt. She walked past Coralie, her shoulder brushing the other girl's, forcing her to move aside.

Casey grabbed the door handle and shoved it open.

The hallway exploded with light. Cameras flashed like strobes, blinding her. Microphones were shoved in her face. The noise was a physical assault.

"Miss Martinez! Are you here to stalk Kayson?"

"Did Henderson family force you out?"

"Are you planning to ruin the show?"

The questions were needles. The flashes were knives. Casey raised her hand, using the back of her wrist to shield her eyes. Her jaw clenched tight.

A male reporter stepped too close, his microphone almost hitting her chin. "Miss Martinez, any comments on being called a desperate stalker?"

Casey didn't speak. She dropped her shoulder and drove it forward, slamming into the reporter's chest.

He gasped, stumbling backward into the crowd. Security guards scrambled, pulling up velvet ropes to hold back the press.

Casey didn't wait. She pushed through the gap, her boots clicking on the polished floor. She walked into the dark tunnel leading to the main stage. The roar of the crowd grew louder.

She took a breath and pushed open the heavy double doors.

Spotlights hit her. Three beams of blinding white light, pinning her in place. The heat from the lamps was suffocating.

Boos erupted from the audience. Thousands of people, screaming their hatred. Holographic comments floated in the air above her head.

Get out of A13!

Toxic bitch!

Go back to the slums!

Casey tilted her head back slightly, scanning the floating text. Her expression didn't change.

Kayson Cross stood on the other side of the stage. The golden boy. The idol. His arms were crossed over his chest, his handsome face twisted in disgust.

He saw her and started walking. Fast. Angry. He stopped inches away from her, towering over her.

"Listen to me," he hissed, his voice low but venomous. "Stop your disgusting games. Stay away from Coralie, or I'll make your life a living hell."

Casey looked at him. Really looked at him. She saw a spoiled brat. A boy playing tough. She felt nothing but a vague sense of confusion. Why was this insect talking to her?

Her silence, her utter lack of reaction, snapped something inside him. Kayson's face turned red. He lunged, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist.

Before he could pull back, her body reacted on pure instinct. She didn't dodge. Instead, she slammed the heel of her palm upward into his wrist, using his own momentum against him. The unexpected, brutal force made him cry out and stumble back. It wasn't a trained martial arts form, just the raw, desperate strength of someone used to fighting for their life.

Kayson gasped. A sharp intake of breath. His knees buckled. His tall frame bent awkwardly as pain shot up his arm.

The audience gasped. The holographic comments froze for a second, then exploded with exclamation marks.

Casey leaned in close, her lips near his ear. "Don't touch me," she whispered, her voice like ice. "You're dirty."

Kayson's face flushed crimson. Humiliation and rage battled in his eyes. He tried to yank his arm away.

Casey let go. Abruptly. He stumbled backward, nearly falling on his ass. He caught himself, rubbing his wrist, staring at her like she was a monster.

Casey slowly clapped her hands together, dusting off invisible dirt. The insult was clear.

The crowd went wild. The comments turned into a wall of hate, demanding her head, but amidst the flood of insults, a few stray comments flickered: 'Damn, that was a clean move.' 'He started it, lol.' 'Who is she? Kinda badass.'

Casey glanced at the floating text. A smirk touched her lips. She raised her left hand, tapping the interface on her wristband. She navigated to the settings.

She hit the button. The holographic comments vanished. The silence in her own head was sudden and absolute.

She turned her back on the audience.

Casey walked toward the edge of the stage. She didn't look back.

Callum Cabrera stepped out from the shadows. He was a wall of muscle, his face hard. He reached out and grabbed Kayson's shoulder, holding the sputtering idol back.

"Let me go!" Kayson yelled, trying to shake off Callum's grip. "She's crazy!"

"Shut up," Callum growled. His voice was deep, commanding. "We're live. Do you want to ruin your career?"

Kayson's chest heaved. He glared at Casey's back, but he stopped struggling.

From the side of the stage, Coralie appeared. She hurried over to Kayson, her face a picture of distress. She took his injured hand in hers, stroking it gently.

"Kayson, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Kayson's expression softened instantly. "I'm fine. She's just insane."

Coralie looked up, her gaze landing on Casey. For a split second, pure malice flickered in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by saintly sorrow.

She walked toward Casey. Her steps were small, careful. She stopped a foot away and opened her arms, offering a hug.

"Sister," Coralie said, her voice carrying through the microphones. "No matter what happens, I hope you find true love here."

Casey stopped walking. She turned her head slowly. She looked at Coralie's outstretched arms, then at her tear-streaked face.

Casey didn't move. She didn't step back. She just stood there, staring at Coralie like she was looking at a corpse.

The silence stretched. The audience held its breath. Coralie's arms hung in the air, trembling slightly. Her eyes widened, tears spilling over.

The holographic screens, though Casey couldn't see them, flashed red with anger.

Casey tilted her head. "Move," she said. Two words, cold as the vacuum of space.

Coralie flinched like she'd been slapped. Her body shook.

Callum was there in an instant. He stepped in front of Coralie, shielding her completely. He glared at Casey, his eyes promising violence.

"That's enough," he snarled. "Back off."

Casey shrugged. She looked bored. She sidestepped the pair of them, giving them a wide berth.

She walked to the far edge of the stage, into the darkest corner. She sat down on a metal bench, closed her eyes, and waited.

Behind her, Coralie collapsed against Callum's chest, sobbing. Callum held her, his eyes burning holes in Casey's back.

In the control room, Director Quinn Vance stared at the monitor. The ratings graph was a vertical line going straight up. He slammed his hand on the desk, laughing.