Revenge on Live TV: The Heiress They Killed Is Back

Eva Whitlock had been kidnapped. Along with her adopted sister, Ivy Whitlock.

Damn. This place reeked of rust.

The plastic zip tie around her wrists cut in tight, and every breath she took felt like swallowing dust and mold.

Behind her, Ivy was crying.

That dramatic, attention-grabbing kind of sobbing — making sure the whole world could hear just how miserable she was.

God, even in a place like this, she never stopped performing.

But here, nobody was buying it.

A stubble-faced kidnapper spun around. He cursed, lifted his heavy boot, and slammed it hard into Ivy's stomach.

"Shut up! You stupid bitch! One more sound and I'll blow your head off first!"

Then three black SUVs tore into the warehouse like wild animals, tires screaming against the floor, their headlights slashing through the dark.

Eva squinted. Her family was here.

And just like that, hope slithered into her chest like a poisonous snake.

They came. They came to save her.

Figures stepped out from the blinding light.

Adrian Whitlock, her oldest brother — always in a suit, always perfectly put together. He looked like he was heading to a board meeting, not rescuing his sister.

Eleanor Montgomery, her mother, already falling apart, her eyes locked on Ivy. She didn't spare Eva a single glance.

Julian Whitlock, wearing that same smug, nauseating look of superiority, like he was watching a show he'd directed himself.

And Cole Whitlock. His face was white as a ghost. His eyes kept moving back and forth between her and Ivy, loaded with guilt.

Good. The brother who lost her all those years ago had better feel guilty.

She already knew they weren't here for her. They were here for Ivy.

Because Ivy was the one who grew up in the Whitlock family. Not her. They didn't love her. They didn't care about her.

What Eva didn't expect was Liam Thornton — her boyfriend — stepping out of one of the cars.

The look on his face was a kind of fear she'd never seen from him before. Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes started to burn.

In this godforsaken place, in this godforsaken world, Liam was the only one who actually cared about her.

"What do you want?" Adrian spoke. His voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

"Money!" The kidnapper jerked his gun up, pointing it at Ivy's head, screaming like a man coming apart. "Or nobody leaves! I swear I'll blow both their heads clean off!"

"Put the gun down and name your price." Julian stepped forward, that sickening confidence filling his eyes. "Money's not a problem. It never is. The Whitlocks have more than enough."

"Fifty million dollars!" the kidnapper roared. Greed flickered in his eyes.

"Done." Julian didn't hesitate. "A hundred million if you want. Just let them go. Give me your account number right now."

Silence.

Dead silence.

The kidnapper stared at Julian. Then he looked over this group of suited, tight-faced rich people, and let out a cold laugh.

He pointed his gun at Eva, then swung it toward Ivy.

"Two little princesses." He grinned. "Like something straight out of a fairy tale. Right?"

He smiled wide, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "Now you've got a choice. You can only take one person. The other stays here for me to toy with. I'll let the second one go only after I confirm the money has landed in my account.”"

The air froze.

Eleanor's crying stopped cold. She pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes full of terror — but she was still looking at Ivy. Always Ivy.

"This is insane," Adrian said, trying to take back control. "We're not making that choice."

"Then she dies first!" The kidnapper swung the gun straight at Ivy.

"No!" Eleanor screamed. "No! Not her! Let Ivy go! Please, let her go first! She's just a child!"

Eva let out a cold laugh. The rag stuffed in her mouth turned it into something closer to a whimper.

A child? Ivy was only a year younger than her.

"It's the most logical choice," Julian agreed, his voice smooth as poison. "Ivy — she can't handle something like this. Eva is different."

Eva stopped caring about what they were saying. She looked past all of them, eyes fixed hard on Liam.

Please. Liam. Don't. Don't be like the rest of them.

She recalled the previous night, when she and Liam made love. His fingers glided over her skin, and his lips pressed against her ear while he murmured quietly.

He'd said: "Eva, you're mine. Always."

The weight of his body, his scent, and the feeling as he entered her.

He'd told her she was the center of his world.

So prove it. Prove it right now.

Liam's lips trembled. He looked at Ivy's tear-streaked face, then turned to Eva.

His eyes were full of a painful, twisting struggle.

"Liam—!" Ivy called his name in that voice she always used — the one that could break a man apart.

Cole lurched forward. "We can't just—"

"Cole!" Adrian snapped. "Don't be an idiot!"

Liam closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he wasn't looking at Eva.

He was looking at the kidnapper.

"Let Ivy go." His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. "Eva is strong. She can get through this."

Strong.

The word hit her like a bullet, straight to the heart.

The world lost all its sound and color in an instant.

Eleanor's screaming, Adrian's orders, the kidnapper's laughter — all of it faded into distant background noise.

All she could see was Liam's mouth moving, forming the word that sealed her fate.

Why the hell do I have to stay strong?

So being strong meant she deserved to be left behind. Being strong meant she deserved to die. Being strong meant she was supposed to step aside for an adopted daughter.

Something cold and unfamiliar rose up inside her, swallowing the fear, swallowing the heartbreak. Rage. The kind that destroys everything in its path.

To hell with all of it.

To hell with Liam.

To hell with every single one of the Whitlocks.

Eva stopped looking at them. She started twisting her wrists hard, dragging the zip tie against the sharp edge of a rusted metal beam behind her.

She was getting out herself. She was escaping on her own. And if she made it out of this place alive, she was going to make every last one of them pay.

Maybe her movements were too obvious. Whatever the reason, the situation snapped out of control.

The kidnapper whipped around like a bull that had been pushed too far. "Where the hell do you think you're going, you little bitch?!"

He screamed, and time seemed to slow down.

Eva watched him raise the gun. Watched him pull the trigger.

A blast tore through the warehouse.

A searing, burning pain ripped through her stomach — like a red-hot iron pressed hard against her skin.

She looked down. Blood was spreading fast across her dark T-shirt.

The strength drained out of her all at once, and Eva fell backward.