Rebirth Of The Fallen Heir

Chapter 1: The Blood of the Wolf

The air in the VIP ward smelled of industrial bleach and decaying white lilies. Austin Vance lay perfectly paralyzed on the array bed, a shattered husk of a man crushed by a meticulously planned car accident on the lower district highway. At forty-two years old, he had the wealth to buy the city, yet he could not even raise a finger to wipe away the cold sweat pooling in his eyes. The only thing tying his soul to the mortal realm was the rhythmic, synthetic hiss of the ventilator.

Beside his bed stood Vivienne. She was not looking at him. She was casually adjusting her flawless makeup in the reflection of the glass window, the rare diamonds on her fingers—diamonds he had poured from his family's wealth at her feet—glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Disconnect it," Vivienne said, her voice completely devoid of warmth.

The attending doctor hesitated, his fingers trembling over the control panel. "Madam... Mr. Vance's vital matrix is still stable. If we begin the advanced Aether infusion therapy right now, his core might—"

"I said, pull the plug." Vivienne picked up her designer purse, her tone sharpening into an icicle that cut through the sterile room. "The Vance family's core assets have already been legally signed over to the Cross corporation. Keeping this useless creature breathing is just a waste of premium spirit stones. Do it."

The bribed doctor lowered his head, refusing to meet Austin's eyes, and toggled the master switch.

Click.

The mechanical hum died instantly. The heavy breathing tube was violently wrenched from Austin’s throat. His chest buckled. His lungs spasmed with frantic, agonizing violence as the oxygen vanished. He wanted to scream, to tear her throat out with his bare teeth, but he could only lie there as his face turned a dark purple, his bloodshot eyes staring at his wife in sheer horror.

Vivienne leaned down, bringing her face mere inches from his. The suffocatingly expensive perfume she wore—a high-end brand he bought for her by the dozen whenever she pouted—smelled sickeningly sweet.

"Did you really think a high-and-mighty Walker heir like you was ever anything more than a tool to me?" she whispered, tapping a sharp, manicured nail against his trembling, freezing cheek. "For twenty long years, you were such a good, obedient dog. You completely severed ties with your wealthy parents just because I shed a few fake tears. You let your gentle sister Olivia rot in a nameless, unmarked grave while you spent your fortune paying off my brother’s gang debts and my mother’s drug habits. You even shattered your own Aetherial Core taking a fatal blow from the Syndicate to save my life."

A low, cruel laugh escaped her throat, vibrating with absolute triumph.

"And what did you get for being so devoted, Austin? Look at yourself. Those five children you spent twenty years slaving away to raise, nursing through fevers and enduring their slights? Not a single one of them carries your filthy Walker blood. Every single one of them belongs to Harrison Cross. Die quickly. Harrison is waiting downstairs in his sports car right now. We're going to the Obsidian Club to celebrate our engagement."

The words hit Austin’s fading consciousness harder than the physical impact that had crushed his spine.

Not mine.

Twenty years of late nights, broken bones, and absolute degradation, all to raise a nest of vipers. Because of this woman, he had broken his mother’s heart, ignored his father’s dying words, and let his innocent sister die alone in poverty. He had traded his true family for a parasitic illusion.

Grief, thick and suffocating, tore through the remnants of his soul before instantly hardening into a catastrophic, primordial hatred. As the absolute darkness began to swarm his peripheral vision and his chest collapsed entirely, his soul howled into the empty void of the universe with everything he had left.

If the heavens have eyes, if the earth has a soul, give me back my life! If there is a second chance, I will turn their paradise into a bloody slaughterhouse, and I will be the one who salts the earth!

The heart monitor stretched into a flat, continuous wail.