Supreme Legacy: Rise and Revenge

Chapter 3: Daisy’s Revenge

With his vengeance complete, Adrian Doyle walked straight out of the hotel.

As he passed the front parking lot, a muffled sob drew his attention. He followed the sound and found a slender woman sitting on the ground, crying.

The white wedding dress told him at once: the bride—Daisy Hill.

Her makeup was streaked by tears, the pristine hem pooled on the asphalt, hair slightly undone. Even so, her beauty stunned.

Adrian remembered Daisy slapping Felix before running out. He hadn’t expected to find her here, alone.

Of all the people blindsided tonight, Daisy was the one truly crushed by it.

She had believed she’d found the right man, only to learn he was a fraud. For that to happen on her wedding day—how was she supposed to withstand it?

A pang of guilt pricked Adrian. He had staged this, after all. He stepped forward, bent slightly, and said, “Miss Daisy, what are you doing down here? The ground’s filthy. Please—let me help you up.”

He lifted her to her feet.

She studied him. “And you are…? One of our employees?”

Hill Group had over a thousand staff; even if she’d seen Adrian before, there’d be no impression. Anyone at the wedding who wasn’t family or a friend had to be from the company—and he clearly wasn’t one of her acquaintances.

“Yes. I work for Hill Group.”

He dropped his gaze quickly—partly from guilt, partly because Daisy’s beauty and cool, untouchable air were disarming.

“Your employee ID?”

“20240128.”

“You’re one of ours, then. I’m not feeling well. Drive me home,” she ordered.

Seeing her unsteady on her feet, Adrian’s guilt deepened. But his right hand was injured. “I’m sorry, Miss Daisy. My right arm’s not usable.”

“At least help me into the car.”

She clicked her key fob; a Rolls-Royce blinked awake a short distance away.

Adrian guided her over and opened the rear door. As he moved to settle her inside, her body gave way and collapsed into his arms.

A sharp breath hissed through his teeth—his right arm throbbed with pain.

Daisy’s arms hooked around his neck; off-balance, they tumbled together onto the broad back seat. A heady mix of perfume and wine washed over his face.

Before storming out, Daisy had downed a brimming glass out of sheer fury. Now, flushed and tipsy, she looked at Adrian with wounded eyes.

“What do I lack that she has? Is it money? Beauty?”

“You’re far beyond her,” Adrian answered, simply and sincerely.

“Really? Then do you like me?”

His eyes flew wide. He started to sit up, but Daisy’s arms tightened around his neck. “Answer me,” she insisted.

With her softness pressed to him, the bead at his chest suddenly burned hot. Honesty slipped out of him. “I do.”

Daisy pulled his head against her, burying his face at her heart. Her scent filled his breath. Heat surged through him; her breath brushed his ear, low and heady. “Kiss me. Now.”

In his mind, Miss Daisy had always been icily composed—he’d never imagined a fierce hunger beneath.

“Miss Daisy, you’ve had too much. Let me go buy something to sober you up—”

“I’m not drunk,” she said, a raw edge in her voice. “All my life I’ve never had a choice. I’ve done exactly what I was told. I loved art; they forced me into business. I didn’t want to marry; they insisted—because the Hill family has no male heir and needs a reliable son-in-law for the company.”

“And the punchline? Felix Irving—their carefully chosen prince. I had resigned myself to it. I was ready to accept the script. And then fate made a fool of me.”

“Let him cheat, let him betray—I can stomach that. What I can’t accept is losing to another woman. Just because I refused to sleep with him before marriage? Because I wouldn’t be as shameless as she is?”

Her words broke into sobs.

Adrian murmured soothingly, and little by little her crying softened. What replaced it was a rougher, quicker breath.

He lifted his gaze, meeting hers. Something in her steadied, as if a decision had been locked. “I want revenge,” she said. “On all of them. I’ll give my first time to you—a nobody on the bottom rung of our company. I want to see their faces when they find out.”

She reached back and tugged down the zipper. The elegant, strapless gown melted away. In an instant, she was bared to him.

Adrian had only meant to comfort her; he hadn’t imagined the night spiraling here.

Then—crack.

The violet bead at his chest burst. A coil of black vapor slid into him.

Desire flared, bright and consuming. The ache already straining in him tightened again. He stopped holding back.

His hand cupped her, rough with urgency; silk tore. The silken weight of her in his palm sent a shock through him.

She quivered, whispering, “Wait…”

“Do you regret it?”

“Who said I regret it?”

“Good.”

He eased the gown away. Perfection unfolded: the proud arch of her breasts, rose-tipped; a waist that fit his hands; long, pale legs; delicate, enticing feet.

Adrian had grown up poor. Apart from adult videos, he’d never seen a woman like this—not in the flesh, and certainly not a woman like Daisy Hill.

She trembled; fear flickered through her, but she made no move to resist. Her mind was set.

…

In the hushed cabin, heat climbed. Adrian moved against her; Daisy arched to meet him.

Suddenly she froze, rigid with alarm. “I think I heard someone.”

Annoyance pricked him; he stilled—and blinked in shock. His right arm no longer hurt. The injury felt… gone.

He stared, bewildered. Since when did this have healing properties? Then he knew—the bead.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on the window.

Daisy curled into him, silent and small.

“Daisy? Are you there? Daisy?”

At the familiar voice, she and Adrian traded a glance.

Felix Irving—at the door.