All Chapters of RISE OF THE FORSAKEN HEIR : Chapter 21
- Chapter 30
110 chapters
chapter 21
Chapter 21: No Mercy I haven’t slept. Not really. Not since the video dropped and the world decided to tear Bella apart again. It’s 4:17 a.m. The penthouse is dark except for the blue glow from the tablet on my lap. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard, watching Bella sleep beside me. She’s curled on her side, one hand resting on the small swell of her stomach, breathing slow and even like nothing in the world is trying to break her. She’s wrong. Everything is trying to break her. The comments are still coming in. I turned off notifications hours ago but the numbers keep climbing. #BellaTheMistress is trending again. Someone posted a side-by-side of the leaked video and her press conference speech today, captioning it “From homewrecker to queen in 24 hours? Pick a lane.” Another user: “Damian deserves better than a side c
chapter 22
Chapter 22: The Shadow Strikes I don’t sleep on the flight back. Bella does — head on my shoulder, breathing soft and even, one hand curled protectively over her stomach even in sleep. I keep my arm around her the whole time, like if I let go for a second the world might snatch her away again. The photo is still burned into my brain. Bella asleep in our bed. Red laser dot on her belly. “You protected her once. Try again.” Someone was inside the penthouse. Inside our fucking home. While I was bleeding out on a rooftop, while Bella was holding my life together in a hospital waiting room, someone slipped past every layer of security Marcus built and took that photo. I don’t know who yet. But I will. And when I do, there won’t be a body left to identify. We land at 5:47 a.m. local time. The SUV ride back to the penthouse is quiet. Bel
chapter 23
Chapter 23: The Reckoning Begins The penthouse lights are low when I walk in. Just the warm glow from the living-room lamps and the city bleeding through the windows like spilled gold. Bella is on the couch, knees drawn up, wrapped in one of my old sweatshirts that swallows her whole. Lydia sits across from her, tablet in hand, speaking in that quiet, measured way she has when she’s trying not to scare someone. They both look up as the elevator doors slide open. Bella’s eyes find mine first. Relief flickers there, then worry, then something sharper anger at whatever she sees on my face. “You’re back,” she says, voice soft but steady. She pushes off the couch and crosses the room in three steps, hands coming up to frame my face like she needs to make sure I’m real. Her thumbs brush the stubble along my jaw. “You’re okay.” I cover her hands with mine. “I’m okay.” She searches my eyes a second longer, then nods. Doesn’t ask ab
chapter 24
The Hunt The penthouse feels smaller after Sofia’s confession, like the walls are leaning in, listening. I stand at the window for a long time, watching the city wake up below us—taxis crawling like insects, lights blinking out one by one as morning takes over. Bella is in the kitchen making coffee, the normal sound of it grounding me more than anything else could right now. The machine hisses, cups clink, and when she brings me one, her fingers brush mine on purpose. “Black, no sugar,” she says quietly. “The way you like it when you’re about to do something stupid.” I take the cup, let the heat seep into my palms. “Not stupid. Necessary.” She leans against the counter beside me. “Sofia gave us the locker number at Grand Central. Drop point for the next payment. If Vanessa or Ethan is collecting, someone will show.” I nod. “Marcus is already pulling CCTV from every angle around that locker bank. If anyone touches it in the
chapter 25
Chapter 25: No Way Out The room doesn’t explode with bullets the way movies make you think. It’s faster, uglier, quieter at first. Ethan raises his gun a fraction of a second before I do. Vanessa steps sideways, smooth as if she rehearsed it, putting herself just out of my direct line. Bella doesn’t hesitate she drops low, pivots, and fires once at Ethan’s knee. The shot cracks sharp against the concrete walls. He staggers, curses, but doesn’t go down. His leg buckles, blood blooming dark through his pant leg, yet he keeps the gun up, swinging it toward her. I’m already moving. I close the distance in three strides, slam my forearm into his wrist. The pistol flies, skittering across the floor. Ethan snarls, swings a fist at my jaw. I take the hit stars burst behind my eyes but I drive my knee into his wounded leg. He howls, drops to one knee. I follow with an elbow to the temple. He crumples sideways, breathing ragged. Vanessa s
chapter 26
: Morning Light and Lingering ShadowsSunlight cuts through the blinds in sharp, golden bars across the bedroom floor. I wake first, the way I always do now—listening for Bella’s breathing before I even open my eyes. She’s curled on her side facing me, one arm tucked under her pillow, the other hand resting open on the sheet between us like she reached for me in her sleep and didn’t quite find me.Her face is soft in the morning light. No tension in her jaw, no crease between her brows. For the first time in days the lines around her mouth are gone. She looks peaceful. Almost fragile. But I know better. The woman who put a bullet through Ethan’s knee last night isn’t fragile. She’s just resting.I don’t move yet. I watch her chest rise and fall, count the slow rhythm until my own heartbeat matches it. The bruise on my jaw from Ethan’s punch throbs dully, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest when I think about how close we came to losing everything.She stirs. Lashes flutt
chapter 27
Red Carpet Reckoning:The elevator doors slide open on the seventy-eighth floor of Lockwood Tower, and the sound hits first—low hum of conversation, clink of champagne flutes, camera shutters snapping like distant gunfire. The grand ballroom is already alive: crystal chandeliers throwing light across black ties and evening gowns, waiters gliding with trays of caviar and vintage Dom Pérignon, a string quartet playing something elegant and forgettable in the corner. Every eye turns when we step out.Bella’s hand is in mine, steady as steel. She doesn’t flinch under the stares. The emerald gown catches the light like deep water, the slit flashing just enough leg to remind everyone she’s not here to be overlooked. Her chin is up, shoulders back, the small swell of her pregnancy hidden but not erased—more like a quiet declaration: this is what we’re protecting, this is what we’ve built.Security is invisible but everywhere. Marcus’s men in tailored suits at every exit, earpieces glinting.
chapter 28
: The Man in CharcoalMarcus moves like smoke through the crowd—never rushing, never drawing eyes, just a shadow in a suit slipping past clusters of investors and reporters. Reginald Hale reaches the side exit, pushes through the heavy door marked “Service Only.” The door swings shut behind him with a soft thud.Bella and I are already moving. I keep her hand in mine, guiding her through the thinning edge of the crowd. Guests are still applauding the speech, still buzzing about the interrupted audio, still pretending they didn’t hear what they heard. No one notices us leave the main floor.We slip into the service corridor—dim, concrete, lined with rolling carts and emergency lights. The air smells like bleach and old coffee. Marcus waits at the far end, earpiece glowing red. He nods once when he sees us.“Stairwell B,” he says low. “He’s heading down to the parking garage. No backup visible. No weapon drawn. He’s running scared.”Bella’s grip tightens. “Scared means he knows somethin
chapter 29
Chapter 29: After the LightsThe ballroom lights dimmed to a soft amber as the last guests trickled out. The quartet packed their instruments, waiters cleared the last champagne flutes, and the place started to feel empty in that way big rooms do when the party's over. Bella and I lingered near the edge of the dance floor, her head resting on my shoulder while we watched the staff move like ghosts through the space.She hadn't let go of my hand since we came back upstairs from the garage. Her fingers stayed laced with mine, thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles. I could feel the faint tremble in her every now and then—not fear, just the body catching up to the adrenaline crash."You want to stay a little longer?" I asked quietly.She shook her head against me. "No. I want to go home. Real home. Not the penthouse tonight. The house upstate. The one with the big windows and the fireplace that actually works."I smiled into her hair. "You read my mind."Marcus appeared at the side
chapter 30
: Coffee and Cold LeadsMorning came slow at the upstate house. Sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin gold lines, warming the hardwood floor where last night’s clothes still lay scattered like forgotten promises. I woke to the smell of coffee drifting up from downstairs and the soft sound of Bella humming in the kitchen some old song she always fell back on when she was thinking too hard.I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, padded barefoot down the stairs. She stood at the island in one of my flannel shirts, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair messy from sleep and my hands. The coffee maker gurgled its last drops. She poured two mugs without looking up, slid one across the counter to me when I sat on the stool opposite her.“Black,” she said. “Figured you’d need it strong today.”I took the mug, wrapped my hands around it. “You sleep okay?”She shrugged one shoulder. “Better than I expected. The baby was active half the night kicking like they’re training for soccer. Or maybe