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Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian Novel Cover

Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian

Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended. A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life. Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout. When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip. "She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!" The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away. Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins. They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again? She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town. "The engagement is over," she announced coldly. Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
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Chapter 4

Hiram dropped to one knee in front of the sofa.

His large, calloused hand reached out and wrapped entirely around Antoinette's slender, pale ankle.

His palm was burning hot. The intense heat pressed against her cool skin, sending a violent shiver up her calf.

Hiram's thick fingers pressed gently into the swollen flesh.

Antoinette flinched, a sharp hiss escaping her lips. She tried to pull her leg back.

Hiram didn't look up. "Don't move," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the quiet room.

The sheer authority in his tone pinned her to the cushions. She froze, not daring to breathe.

Satisfied nothing was broken, Hiram stood up. He walked over to the kitchenette cabinets and pulled out a standard hotel first-aid kit.

He cracked an instant cold pack, wrapped it in a clean hand towel, and returned to the sofa. He carefully pressed the makeshift ice pack against her throbbing ankle.

Once it was secure, he grabbed a throw blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it over her bare legs. Only then did he turn around, walk into the bedroom, and put on a dark grey bathrobe.

When he walked back out, the flush on Antoinette's face had slightly faded. She quickly grabbed the crumpled insurance claim form she had dropped on the cushion and held it out to him.

"Fabian withheld some of the original documents," she explained, her voice slightly shaky. "He was trying to delay the payout so he could control me."

Hiram took the paper. His dark eyes scanned the legal jargon. As he read, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. His eyes turned into chips of black ice.

He didn't yell. He didn't scold her for being careless.

He walked over to the coffee table and picked up the suite's landline phone.

He dialed a number from memory. "Get the Detroit legal team on the line," he ordered, his voice laced with lethal calm.

He paced the length of the room. "I want a cease and desist sent to Fabian Cash within twenty-four hours. File for a restraining order. And contact the insurance underwriter. Every single cent of that payout goes directly into a new, independent trust account under Antoinette Rasmussen's name. If Cash tries to block it, bury him in litigation until he bankrupts."

Five minutes later, Hiram slammed the phone down. He turned to look at the girl sitting on the sofa.

"Fabian Cash is no longer a problem," Hiram stated. "His plans are dead."

The tight knot of anxiety that had been sitting in Antoinette's chest since she woke up at the funeral finally unraveled. She let out a long, shaky exhale. Hot tears of pure relief pricked the corners of her eyes.

Hiram walked over to the single armchair opposite the sofa and sat down. He crossed his long legs, his posture dominant and unyielding.

He looked at her with absolute seriousness. "Starting today, I am initiating the legal process."

He leaned forward slightly. "I am fulfilling my promise to your father. I will be your sole legal guardian."

Antoinette stared at him. In her past life, she had fought alone. She had never known what it felt like to have someone stand in front of her like a brick wall.

She swallowed hard and nodded her head firmly. "Okay."

Hiram watched her obedient response. The hard, unforgiving lines around his mouth softened by a fraction of a millimeter.

He stood up. "Stay in this room tonight. Keep your weight off that foot."

He walked toward the connecting door. "I need to meet with Alex next door to finalize the paperwork."

Hiram stepped through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind him.

Click.

The sound of the lock didn't make Antoinette feel trapped. For the first time since she opened her eyes in this life, she felt entirely, undeniably safe.

She leaned back against the sofa, looking at the ice pack on her ankle. She had found her fortress.

On the other side of the door, Hiram stared at a faxed background check on Fabian Cash. His eyes were pitch black. Taking the documents was just the legal step. He fully intended to make sure the boy learned what happened when you touched someone under the protection of Hiram Graves.

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