All Chapters of HEIRESS REBORN: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

POV: VIVIAN HALEI hate corporate politics. I hate meetings where people say a lot without saying anything. I hate that I have to fake-smile at men who think they built this company, when every inch of it is Kaia’s blood. But today? Today I hate something else more.I hate liars who look you in the face and call it loyalty.I’ve been working the same angle all week. Subtle check-ins, late-night phone calls masked as “compliance questions,” the kind of fake-casual probing that makes even seasoned execs sweat behind their teeth-whitened smiles. Kaia didn’t want a witch hunt—just the truth. But truth doesn’t come clean in places like this. It comes soaked in layers.And tonight, sitting at my desk at the edge of midnight, I think I’ve peeled back enough.I hit send on the last email. I stare at the list I’ve compiled. Only one name is circled in red.I say it out loud, just to hear how it lands.“Reed.”“Kaia,” I say the second I walk into her office, even though the lights are low and s

POV: VIVIAN HALEI hate corporate politics. I hate meetings where people say a lot without saying anything. I hate that I have to fake-smile at men who think they built this company, when every inch of it is Kaia’s blood. But today? Today I hate something else more.I hate liars who look you in the face and call it loyalty.I’ve been working the same angle all week. Subtle check-ins, late-night phone calls masked as “compliance questions,” the kind of fake-casual probing that makes even seasoned execs sweat behind their teeth-whitened smiles. Kaia didn’t want a witch hunt—just the truth. But truth doesn’t come clean in places like this. It comes soaked in layers.And tonight, sitting at my desk at the edge of midnight, I think I’ve peeled back enough.I hit send on the last email. I stare at the list I’ve compiled. Only one name is circled in red.I say it out loud, just to hear how it lands.“Reed.”“Kaia,” I say the second I walk into her office, even though the lights are low and s

POV: DETECTIVE ARLEN KADEThere’s no warning.One minute, I’m sipping half-warm coffee over the precinct’s busted copier, and the next—glass doors slam open, badges flash, and everything goes to hell.“Internal Affairs! Nobody moves!”The air goes sharp. My stomach knots. I set the coffee down before it spills, because I know what this is. I just didn’t expect it this fast.They sweep in like they’ve rehearsed it—two teams, six deep, computers bagged, files boxed, hard drives yanked from desks like we’re harboring state secrets. They’re not subtle. They want us to panic.But I’m already calm. Too calm.Because I was waiting for this.I walk back to my desk slowly, careful not to look at the drawer where the original file used to sit. The one labeled Alina Rivers – Closed, Deceased. It's empty now. Wiped three nights ago. I made sure of it. Burned the original, copied the backups to three separate encrypted drives, and buried one in a cloud account not even the Bureau uses.I open my d

POV: NATHANIELThey think they can corner me.They think if they leak enough, stir the water long enough, I’ll slip. Panic. Run. Confess. Break.They don’t know me.I sit behind my desk, the lights low, blinds drawn, the weight of silence pressing in around me. I like the quiet when it’s like this — thick with threat, humming with tension.Across from me, Jasper drops the dossier with too much noise. I don’t even look at him.“Go,” I say.He nods and walks out without another word. Smart. Knows not to linger when my jaw is set like this.I flip the file open.Nina Rhodes’s article is the first thing I see. Printed in red ink. Underlined: "The Ghost CEO: Who’s Really Running Ashen?"Then Kaia’s face. A surveillance shot from a gala two weeks ago. Close-up. Angled. The kind of photo meant to unsettle.Underneath that—Kade’s reopened case notes. A body that was never recovered. A death certificate without a signature. A grave dug up and empty, declared “tampered with.”Then there’s the w

POV: KAIA (ALINA) It starts with the second leak.No headlines. No hashtags. Just a quiet drip—strategic, venomous, and perfectly timed. A two-minute clip shot from across a marina in Monaco. Elena, on a yacht, surrounded by three twenty-something men who look like they model for fragrances they can’t pronounce. Champagne in her hand. Laughing. Tossing her heels into the sea. One of the boys grabs her waist. She lets him. The other slips something into her mouth. She swallows it without asking what it is.There's no voiceover, no context. Just footage.I watch it alone from my laptop, sitting in the far corner of Ashen’s private floor. Vivian’s out doing her song and dance for a Cross-adjacent firm that’s getting slaughtered in a merger we orchestrated. She doesn’t need to see this part. This one's mine.It uploads through a shell media outlet I own through five levels of misdirection. Just like the last leak.The comments start flooding in within minutes.“How old is she again?”“Wh