No Longer Their Daughter

The call ended, but the knife was still pressed to my throat, icy against my skin.

The kidnapper's leader glared at me. "Your dad doesn't want you. So do you wanna die now, or be buried alive? Pick one."

I looked up at him, my gaze calm and empty as I recited a string of numbers.

"An offshore private bank. The account holder is the Howe Corporation Trust. Password is 778899. There's ten million inside, money Nelson Howe was preparing to move overseas for his illegitimate son."

His hand jerked. The blade sliced into my skin.

"Kidnapping me for a one-million-dollar ransom gets you prison," I said hoarsely, my voice low and coaxing. "Taking money that can't see daylight means no one will call the cops. Let me go. You keep the cash. Courtesy of the Howes."

Ten minutes later, after the transfer cleared, he stared at me like I was some kind of monster.

He kicked me out of the car and dumped me on a winding mountain road under pouring rain.

"Hell of a move, Ms. Howe."

I dragged my bleeding left hand, step by step, back to the Howe estate.

Rain washed over the wounds. The pain of my severed finger had gone numb, leaving only a cold that sank into my bones.

It was phantom pain from how I had died last time, and this time, the price I paid by cutting it off myself to convince the kidnappers.

The estate was brightly lit.

Cheerful jazz floated through the rain, music for a celebration thrown to calm Lilith Howe after her "narrow escape".

I rang the doorbell.

The butler opened the door. The moment his eyes landed on my mud-soaked, blood-stained body, his brows twisted, and he covered his nose without thinking.

"Ms. Alexis… You're back?"

There was no surprise. Only disgust.

"Mr. Howe is inside cutting cake with Ms. Lilith. You'll scare her if you go in like this."

I pushed past him and walked straight into the hall.

The lively banquet room fell dead silent.

Every gaze locked onto me, as if I were a beggar who had wandered into a palace.

Under the crystal chandelier, Lilith stood in a custom white dress, fragile as porcelain, surrounded by people fawning over her.

My mother froze for a second, then rushed toward me.

Her eyes reddened. She reached out as if to hug me, but stopped short when she saw dirty water dripping from my clothes onto the expensive rug.

She turned and snapped at the staff, "Get towels! Don't let the mess spread."

Then she handed me a dry towel, her voice full of blame, wrapped in fake concern.

"I'm so glad you're back. But why didn't you use the side entrance? Lilith just had a scare. She's not doing very well. What if she saw blood and got upset?"