The True Heiress Returns: His Bitter Regret

"Ariel? Sweetie, can you hear me?"

The voice was too sweet. It scraped against Ariel's eardrums like sandpaper.

She forced her heavy eyelids open. The harsh glare of the surgical lights sliced through her retinas. She blinked, her throat burning like swallowed glass.

The blurry shapes around her bed sharpened. Five figures stood over her.

Three men in bespoke suits. An older man leaning on a custom mahogany cane. A woman dripping in diamonds.

The Washington family.

Ariel's stomach dropped. Bile rose in the back of her throat. She was inside the book. The Wall Street corporate warfare novel she had finished reading at 2 AM last night.

Cherilyn threw herself at the edge of the mattress. She grabbed Ariel's hand.

"Oh, thank God," Cherilyn sobbed. Her Upper East Side accent was flawless. "I was so worried about you, sister."

Ariel coughed. Her lungs felt tight.

Look at this fake bitch, Ariel thought. She's probably going to spike my IV bag with potassium next.

The thought didn't stay in her head.

It rang out. Sharp, clear, and metallic. It echoed directly inside the minds of the five Washington family members in the room.

Conrad's hand clamped down on the gold head of his cane. The wood groaned. His knuckles turned bone-white. His sharp eyes darted to the ceiling, hunting for a hidden speaker.

Eleanor stumbled back. Her stiletto heel caught on the linoleum floor. She slammed into the metal IV pole. The saline bags swayed violently.

Jonas's hand shot to his waistband. His fingers brushed the cold fabric of his suit jacket, right where he kept his concealed Glock. His jaw locked.

Greggory ripped his Tom Ford sunglasses off his face, his hand flying to his temple as if struck by a sudden migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting in pain as the sound bypassed his eardrums entirely and echoed directly in the very center of his consciousness.

Devontae yanked his encrypted phone from his pocket. His thumbs flew across the screen, scanning for rogue Bluetooth frequencies.

Ariel watched them. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

What is wrong with these Wall Street wolves? Ariel thought. They look like they just got struck by lightning. No wonder they all end up jumping off a building after the hostile takeover.

The words jumping off a building exploded in their skulls.

Jonas froze. His hand dropped from his waist. He stared at the girl on the bed. His chest stopped moving.

Conrad swallowed hard. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He forced his hand to relax on the cane.

"Ariel," Conrad said. His voice was thick. "How are you feeling?"

Ariel put on a weak, obedient smile. "A little dizzy, Father."

Keep acting like a loving dad, you old fox, Ariel thought. You're all going to be sleeping on the streets in a year anyway.

This time, they saw it. Ariel's lips didn't move. But the voice came directly from her.

Eleanor slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes turned bloodshot. Her chest he heave as panic seized her lungs. Sleeping on the streets. The words paralyzed her.

Cherilyn didn't flinch. She couldn't hear it.

"Here, drink some water," Cherilyn said softly. She picked up a glass from the nightstand and brought it to Ariel's lips.

Don't touch me! Ariel screamed in her mind. You sociopath! You faked a pregnancy to steal the shares and killed a man!

Greggory's head snapped toward Cherilyn. The protective warmth in his eyes vanished. Pure, unfiltered disgust replaced it.

Devontae moved faster than anyone.

He lunged forward and smacked the glass out of Cherilyn's hand.

"It's too cold," Devontae barked. "Bad for her stomach."

The glass hit the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces. Water splashed onto Cherilyn's designer heels.

Cherilyn gasped. She stepped back, her perfect mask cracking for a fraction of a second.

Ariel flinched at the loud crash.

This third brother has severe anger issues, Ariel thought. No wonder he gets stabbed to death in federal prison.

Devontae's face lost all its color. He looked like a corpse. His hands shook so violently he almost dropped his phone.

Conrad stepped forward. His presence sucked the air out of the room.

"Cherilyn," Conrad ordered. His tone left no room for argument. "Go find the doctor. Now."

Cherilyn bit her lower lip. Her eyes pooled with real tears of frustration. She turned and walked out of the room, her heels clicking angrily against the floor.

The heavy door clicked shut.

Silence suffocated the room.

Five pairs of eyes locked onto Ariel. They stared at her like she was a ticking bomb.

Ariel's skin crawled. Cold sweat slicked her palms.

Why are they staring at me like that? Ariel thought. Did they figure out I'm an imposter? Are they going to tie me to a cinder block and throw me into the Hudson River?

Eleanor gasped. She forced the corners of her mouth up. It was a grotesque, trembling smile.

"We are just glad you are awake, sweetie," Eleanor choked out.

Ariel stared at her mother's twisted face.

They are completely insane, Ariel thought. I need to play dead.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the white hospital blanket over her nose.

The five titans of Wall Street stood frozen around the bed. Cold sweat dripped down their spines.

The dining room of the Washington Long Island estate felt like a mausoleum.

Ariel sat at the end of the massive mahogany table. She stared at the French omelet on her Versace plate.

This house is freezing, Ariel thought. It feels like a graveyard.

At the head of the table, Conrad held the Wall Street Journal. The corner of his mouth twitched. He gripped the paper tighter to stop his hands from shaking.

Cherilyn walked into the dining room. She wore a pristine silk robe. She carried a crystal glass filled with a thick, green liquid.

She set the glass down right in front of Ariel.

"I had this organic cold-pressed juice flown in from Brooklyn," Cherilyn said. Her voice dripped with honey. "It's exactly what your body needs to recover."

Ariel looked up. She forced a shy smile. "Thank you, sister."

Organic juice my ass, Ariel thought. It's laced with Adderall extract. It's going to fry my nervous system.

Eleanor was lifting a porcelain cup of black coffee to her lips.

The words Adderall extract hit her brain. Her hand jerked. Hot coffee splashed over the rim, staining her silk Hermes scarf.

Conrad lowered his newspaper. His eyes locked onto the green liquid. A cold, murderous intent flashed in his pupils.

Cherilyn didn't notice. She smiled down at Ariel.

"Drink it quickly," Cherilyn urged. "The antioxidants fade if it sits too long."

Antioxidants? Ariel rolled her eyes in her mind. You mean the drug will evaporate. You are a complete psychopath. All this just to steal my trust fund.

Conrad's grip on his newspaper tightened for a fraction of a second, a sharp, authoritative signal Eleanor had understood for forty years. His eyes darted to her, cold and expectant.

Ariel sighed. She reached out her hand. She planned to take a sip and spit it into her napkin.

Her fingertips brushed the cold crystal glass.

Eleanor stood up abruptly.

Her ankle twisted. She threw her entire body weight forward. Her arm swept across the mahogany wood.

Her wrist slammed into the crystal glass.

The glass launched into the air. The green liquid spun in the morning light. It splashed directly onto Cherilyn's pristine silk robe.

The glass hit the hardwood floor and shattered.

Cherilyn shrieked. She looked down at the dark green stains ruining her clothes. Her face turned purple with rage.

Eleanor clutched her chest. She gasped for air.

"Oh my goodness!" Eleanor cried out. "I am so sorry, Cherilyn. I stood up too fast. I felt so dizzy."

Ariel pulled her hand back. Her heart raced.

This woman never trips, Ariel thought. She walks like she's floating. Does she have early-onset cerebellar atrophy?

Eleanor's face froze. She swallowed hard and looked away.

"Get the butler," Eleanor told the maid. "Clean this up immediately."

Cherilyn forced her hands to uncurl. She squeezed a tear out of her eye.

"It's okay, Mother," Cherilyn whimpered. "I'm just sad Ariel didn't get to drink it."

"Go change," Conrad said. His voice was like cracked ice. "Do not stand in my dining room looking like that."

Cherilyn flinched. The coldness in his voice felt like a physical blow. She turned and practically ran out of the room.

Ariel watched her leave.

Keep crying, you snake, Ariel thought. If they sent that juice to a lab, you'd be sitting in a federal prison by tonight.

Conrad's eyes darted to the butler. He gave a sharp, almost invisible nod.

The butler knelt on the floor. He swept up the glass. With a swift motion, he pressed a sterile cotton cloth into the wet rug. He slipped the soaked cloth into a plastic ziplock bag in his pocket.

Wow, rich people's maids are so extra, Ariel thought. He's cleaning the floor like it's a crime scene.

Eleanor sat back down. She smoothed her stained scarf.

"Bring Ariel a glass of warm milk," Eleanor instructed the maid. Her voice trembled slightly.

Ariel stared at the empty spot on the table. Her stomach tied into knots.

The poison juice failed, Ariel thought. Now they are switching to milk? This family is trying so hard to murder me.

Conrad and Eleanor looked at each other. They couldn't breathe. The weight of the misunderstanding crushed their chests.

The steel door of the underground bunker hissed as it sealed shut.

It was a soundproof vault beneath the Long Island estate. No cell service. No Wi-Fi.

Conrad tossed a manila folder onto the black walnut desk.

"The toxicology report from the private lab in Manhattan," Conrad said. His voice was gravel.

Jonas snatched the paper. His eyes scanned the text.

High concentration of hallucinogenic and neurotoxic compounds.

Jonas slammed his fist into the concrete wall. The skin on his knuckles split. Blood welled up.

"That bitch," Jonas snarled. "She actually poisoned her in our own house."

Eleanor collapsed onto the leather sofa. She buried her face in her hands. Dry sobs racked her shoulders.

"If we hadn't heard that voice," Eleanor gasped, "my baby would be brain-damaged right now."

Greggory paced the floor. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and bit the end off. He didn't light it.

"We all hear it, right?" Greggory asked. His chest heaved. "The voice in her head. The predictions."

Devontae sat in the corner. He stared at his laptop screen.

"It defies every law of physics," Devontae muttered. "But it's real. I checked the hedge fund code she mentioned yesterday. There was a backdoor vulnerability. Exactly where she said it would be."

Jonas wiped the blood from his hand. He looked at his father.

"We need to go to her room," Jonas said. "We tell her we can hear her. We make her tell us everything that's going to happen."

Conrad nodded slowly. He picked up his cane.

"Let's go," Conrad said.

He took one step toward the steel door. He opened his mouth to say, We are going to tell Ariel.

His throat closed.

It wasn't a metaphor. An invisible hand clamped around Conrad's windpipe.

His face turned dark purple. The veins on his forehead bulged against his skin. He dropped his cane. His hands clawed at his own neck. He couldn't pull in a single ounce of oxygen.

"Dad!" Jonas yelled. He lunged forward.

Jonas thought, I need to tell Ariel.

Instantly, Jonas's vocal cords paralyzed. His knees buckled. He hit the floor, gasping like a fish on dry land.

Eleanor screamed. She rushed to them.

"Stop!" Devontae yelled. He realized it first. "Don't think about telling her! Stop thinking about it!"

Conrad forced his mind blank. He focused on the concrete floor.

Air rushed back into his lungs. He coughed violently, spitting saliva onto the floor. Jonas dragged himself up, his chest heaving.

They sat in silence. Cold sweat soaked through their expensive shirts.

"A rule," Devontae whispered. His hands shook. "We can use the information. But we cannot tell her. The universe won't let us."

Greggory let out a dark, bitter laugh. "No wonder she thinks we are psychopaths. We can't even explain ourselves."

Conrad picked up his cane. He leaned heavily on it. His eyes hardened into black stones.

"From this second on," Conrad ordered, "Ariel's thoughts are classified as Tier-One corporate intelligence. We act. We do not speak."

Suddenly, Ariel's voice bloomed in their minds again, as clear and sharp as if she were standing right beside them.

Ariel was in her bedroom on the second floor.

This mansion is so creepy at night, Ariel thought. I bet Jonas is sleeping like a baby. He doesn't know Caspian is going to steal everything from him tomorrow.

Jonas's head snapped up. His heart skipped a beat. Caspian was his best friend from college.

Caspian took the bribe from the rival firm, Ariel's voice echoed in their heads. He's going to copy Jonas's cloud keys at the golf club tomorrow at 3 PM.

Jonas's stomach twisted into a tight knot. Acid burned the back of his throat.

Conrad stared at Jonas.

Jonas pulled out his phone. He opened his messages.

Caspian: Golf club tomorrow. 3 PM. Don't be late, brother.

The time. The place. The person. It was a perfect match.

Whatever, Ariel thought. The Washingtons are doomed anyway. I need to save up for a plane ticket to Hawaii and run away.

The five of them sat in the bunker. They listened to her plan her escape from their sinking ship.

Jonas gripped his phone until the screen cracked. He wasn't going to let this ship sink.