Banished by Blood

As I walked out of the Bentley estate, it started to pour.

Within seconds, I was soaked to the bone. Dragging my suitcase behind me, I struggled down the side of the road.

The roar of an engine suddenly came from behind me.

My older brother, Conor Bentley, tore past in his sports car. The tires plowed through a puddle, drenching me in muddy water.

A moment later, the car screeched to a stop in front of me. The driver's window rolled down, revealing Conor's smug, mocking grin.

"Addison Bentley, without us, you won't even be able to feed yourself! Even if you freeze to death out here tonight, don't come crawling back and beg me to let you in!"

The instant the words left his mouth, the text above his head flickered.

[Luck: 5%]

It plunged straight to—

[Luck: 1%]

Death was staring him in the face. He just didn't know it yet.

"Don't worry," I said calmly. "Even if you begged me to come back, I wouldn't."

Conor let out a scornful snort before slamming on the gas and speeding away.

I turned and headed straight for Hawthorne Antique Market.

Suddenly, my attention landed on a grimy rock propping up the leg of a vendor's table. Its surface was caked with dirt, but in my eyes, it blazed with dazzling golden light.

[Luck Aura: 99%]

[Contains top-grade collectors' emerald.]

I walked over, pulled out the last $110 I had, and slapped it onto the table.

"I'll take this one. Cut it open right here."

The crowd burst into laughter, amused that someone who looked like a homeless drifter had the nerve to gamble on rough stone.

Then the saw bit into the stone, and a streak of brilliant emerald green appeared.

"Holy crap! It's emerald!"

"It's solid green!"

The crowd erupted. The same people who had been laughing seconds earlier were now staring so hard their eyes practically popped out.

Ten minutes later, after a jeweler wired $1.4 million directly into my account, I slipped my brand-new black card into my pocket. With that money, I could finally cut all ties with the Bentleys and start over.

I had barely stepped out of Hawthorne Antique Market when three SUVs rushed in and boxed me into the middle of the street.

The doors flew open, and my adoptive mother, Whitney Bentley, climbed out with several bodyguards. Her eyes were bloodshot as she shrieked, "You little curse! Conor was just in a car accident! Both his legs are ruined! This is all your fault!

"Tie her up and take her to the hospital! I don't care if you have to drain every last drop of her blood. Conor is going to live!"