Bloodline Revenge: The True Heir's Wrath

I stared at the fresh dirt covering my third set of foster parents. The pattern was undeniable. I was a walking curse. Breathing only meant spreading the rot.

When my biological parents finally tracked me down, cold sweat slicked my palms. I didn't want them anywhere near my toxicity. Day one in their mansion.

They flanked their adopted son, Cole, forming a solid wall against me. They took one look at my scuffed shoes and decided I was the trash who stole his diamond watch.

My shoulders dropped. The tight knot in my chest finally unraveled. They hated me. Good. Before anyone could blink, I snatched the heavy metal watch off the table.

I shoved it past my teeth and swallowed hard. The cold steel scraped down my throat. Then, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Chloe’s hand collided with my face.

The impact jerked my jaw open. The watch clattered onto the hardwood floor, coated in saliva.

Chloe stared at it, her lip curling in disgust. "Street rats are always so manipulative," she sneered. "Did you really think this cheap trick for attention would work on us?" "People who actually want to die don't leave time for a rescue." I nodded slowly.

She made a valid point. The door clicked shut behind them. I grabbed a leather belt from the closet, looped it over the ceiling fixture, and kicked the chair away.

But the door burst open again. Chloe marched back in to deliver one last threat. She stopped dead in her tracks. This time, the look in her eyes completely changed.

Chapter 1 The crushing weight of asphyxiation had triggered my primal instincts, forcing my limbs to thrash blindly before the dark finally pulled me under.

But the sharp smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils told me everything I needed to know. I was still breathing. I was in a hospital. My eyelids fluttered open.

Cole was already hovering over my bed, his face a wet, blotchy mess of theatrical tears. He threw himself forward. "Rowan! It’s just a watch.

If I knew you'd react like this, I never would have exposed you." Vincent and Evelyn instantly softened.

They crowded around him, their hands rubbing his shoulders and patting his back in a synchronized display of comfort. Chloe stood a few feet back. Her nose wrinkled.

She stared down at me, arms crossed tight over her chest. "Mom, Dad, he's just playing the victim." She pointed a manicured finger at my bed. "He calculated the exact moment I’d come back to warn him.

That’s the only reason he staged this whole thing." She scoffed. "Why else would he choose the absolute slowest way to die out of all the options?

He’s just trying to guilttrip us into kicking Cole out!" Vincent and Evelyn exchanged a heavy glance. The hesitation in their eyes gave them away.

I had just walked into their lives; my emotional bank account with them sat at a solid zero. Naturally, they were going to back the kid they’d raised.

Honestly, they were giving me way too much credit. They had stuck me in a barebones guest room. Second floor. A jump from that window would only shatter my legs, not my skull.

If I had better options, I wouldn't have gone with the belt. Cole’s sobbing hitched, playing the wronged victim to perfection.

Vincent and Evelyn practically tripped over themselves to soothe him. "Cole, listen to me," Vincent said, gripping his shoulders. "You are our son. Always.

No one is taking your place." Evelyn wiped a tear from his cheek. "Sweetheart, stop crying.

You’re going to give yourself a headache." Watching them huddle together, a strange pressure built behind my eyes. My mind drifted back to my first set of foster parents.

I wasn't their blood, but they never made me feel like an outsider. They didn't have fancy degrees or a mansion. But the second things went sideways, they were my human shields.

Even when I screwed up, the lectures happened behind closed doors, never in public. He busted his back on construction sites; she scraped together cash with odd jobs.

They constantly apologized for not giving me a wealthy life. If someone had suddenly shown up to replace me in their lives, I probably would have lost my mind, too.

Moisture seeped into my pillowcase before I even realized it. Chloe caught the tear tracking down my temple.

She froze, but her features quickly hardened back into a sneer. "Copycat. Do you honestly think squeezing out a few tears is going to make us pity you?

I see exactly what you're doing." I opened my mouth to set the record straight. I didn't want their golden boy out of the house. I didn't want to compete.

I just wanted to check out. But as I pushed air past my lips, nothing came out. Dead silence. The belt must have crushed my vocal cords. Whatever.

But my silence only fed their narrative. To them, it looked like guilt.

Evelyn sighed, the sound thick with disappointment. "Cole might be adopted, but we raised him for twentyfive years," she said. "He is our flesh and blood in every way that matters." Vincent stepped up, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If you want to stay in this family, you will accept him." They turned their backs and ushered Cole out of the hospital room.

I didn't reach out. I didn't feel a single shred of heartbreak. I just missed my real family. I waited until their footsteps faded down the hall.

Throwing the blankets aside, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I tugged the collar of the hospital gown up to hide the dark bruising ringing my neck.

Step by step, I navigated the sterile corridors, keeping to the shadows. Chloe’s advice echoed in my head. Find a quiet place and get it over with.

I pushed open the heavy metal door to the hospital roof. Empty. Perfect. My eyes locked onto the concrete ledge. Adrenaline spiked. I crossed the tarred roof in seconds.

I hoisted one foot onto the edge, the cold wind whipping against my face. A drop from this height guaranteed a flatline. The corners of my mouth tugged upward into a genuine smile.

Mom, Dad, I'm coming. Chapter 2 A hand clamped onto the back of my hospital gown. The fabric bit into my throat as someone hauled me backward with bonejarring force.

Voices blurred into a frantic ringing in my ears, but my eyes stayed locked on the concrete ledge—the only exit I cared about. I thrashed, kicking wildly at the empty air.

Multiple pairs of hands pinned my limbs, dragging my dead weight all the way back to the sterile room. Another failure.

I stared blankly at the acoustic ceiling tiles, my muscles turning to lead. Chloe braced her hands on her knees, sucking in ragged breaths.

Vincent and Evelyn stood frozen, the color drained from their faces. Cole was entirely forgotten.

He hovered near the door, his hands twisting the hem of his shirt before he shot me a venomous glare. Twice. Seriously, what was with this family’s obsession with dramatic Uturns?

Chloe snapped upright. "It’s a setup! He knew we didn't actually leave!

He knew we were watching from the stairwell to see if he was faking, so he put on a show!" The sheer stupidity of the statement hung in the air for exactly one second before Evelyn’s hand connected with Chloe’s cheek.

The crack echoed off the linoleum walls. "If I hadn't grabbed his shirt, he’d be a smear on the pavement!" Evelyn’s chest heaved. "You think he faked stepping off a roof?!" Evelyn spun toward the open window, her hands visibly trembling as she slammed it shut and threw the lock.

We were on the second floor. A fall from here wouldn't even do the job.

But she scoured the room anyway, her eyes darting frantically until she snatched the heavy glass water pitcher off the bedside table and swapped it for a flimsy plastic cup.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Cole had already buried his face in his hands.

He bolted for the door—at a surprisingly slow, dramatic jog. "It’s my fault," his voice wavered perfectly. "I should just pack my bags and disappear.

Then Rowan wouldn't want to die…" Panic instantly overrode Evelyn and Vincent’s lingering shock.

Terrified he might actually do something drastic, they bolted out into the hallway after him.

But not before Vincent threw a harsh command over his shoulder. "Chloe, watch him." Stuck on babysitting duty, Chloe glared at me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe.

She paced the length of the bed, her eyes darting toward the hallway. "Why did you even come back?" she muttered. "Everything was perfect until you showed up." I could see the gears turning in her head, calculating every tear Cole had shed since I walked through the front door.

Her jaw tightened, and the venom returned to her voice. "I heard you bounced around three different foster families." She tilted her head, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "I looked them up." "None of them had happy endings, did they?

Makes you wonder… are you just a walking curse?" The monitor beside my bed instantly spiked, the steady beep accelerating into a frantic rhythm.

Cold numbness washed over my extremities. Ten years old. Mangled metal and shattered glass on the highway. My fingernails dug into my palms. Sixteen years old.

The sharp, suffocating stench of carbon monoxide. The air in the hospital room suddenly felt too thin to breathe. Twentysix years old. Two hospital beds. Two flatlines. Cancer.

A violent shudder ripped through my spine. Three families. Three caskets.

The suffocating weight of being the sole survivor crushed my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs until black spots danced in my vision.

Having a warm home, only to watch it burn down over and over again—it was a sick, twisted joke, and I was the punchline.

Oblivious to my spiraling, Chloe kept running her mouth. "Just so we're clear, I only acknowledge one brother in this house." She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Rowan, as long as you know your place and don't try to compete with Cole, the lifestyle you'll get here is miles beyond anything those dirtpoor hicks could ever offer you." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, trash breeds trash.

It’s no wonder they raised someone so petty and manipulative. Now that you're here, we're going to have to scrub all those lowclass habits out of you—" I didn't think.

I didn't hesitate. I swung my arm, the IV line ripping out of the back of my hand with a sharp tear. My palm cracked against the unbruised side of her face.

The sting radiated up my forearm. She could call me a curse. She could call me trash. But nobody touched their memory. Nobody.

Chloe stumbled back, a hand flying to her rapidly reddening cheek.

Her eyes blew wide, shock morphing into pure outrage. "You hit me?" Her voice spiked into a shrill pitch. "I'm your actual sister!

You hit me over a bunch of dead nobodies?!" Chapter 3 She wasn't my sister. My real sister died in the mangled steel of a car wreck years ago.

If she had lived, she would be exactly Chloe’s age, probably giving me a hard time and constantly chattering my ear off. My throat burned like I was swallowing shattered glass.

I forced the words out, one agonizing syllable at a time. "You… aren't… her," I rasped. "My sister… was sweet." I dragged in a ragged breath, the effort pulling at my bruised windpipe. "I didn't… want… to come here.

You… dragged me… back." After burying my third set of foster parents, my plan had been simple. A locked room, a handful of stolen painkillers, and the end of the line.

But Vincent and Evelyn’s security team had tracked me down first. They tossed me into the back of an SUV and hauled me to their estate.

After fighting them off the first few times, the adrenaline just drained out of me. Watching three families lower into the ground strips away whatever fight you have left inside.

The Ye family’s massive wealth? Their status? It was just background noise. Chloe didn't buy a single word of it.

In her world, no one turned down a trust fund to mourn workingclass foster parents. She rolled her eyes, fully convinced this was just another calculated layer of my act.

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving me alone in the sterile room. I laid there, staring at the ceiling tiles until they blurred. Sleep dragged me under without warning.

It wasn't peaceful. Faces flashed in the dark—three sets of parents, their mouths moving, shouting warnings or apologies I couldn't hear.

I twisted in the stiff hospital sheets, trapped in a suffocating halfsleep. Hands clamped onto my shoulders, jerking me awake.

Chloe loomed over the bed, her features tight with absolute fury. She didn't offer a single explanation.

She just yanked me out of the ward and dragged me straight back to the family estate. The house was pure chaos.

Cole lay propped up in his massive custom bed, his face artfully pale. Chloe shoved me hard from behind. The back of her boot caught my calf.

My knees slammed onto the hardwood floor. "This is all your fault!" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "Cole was already feeling insecure about not being blood, and then you pull that pathetic stunt on the roof to trigger him!" She stepped closer, towering over me. "He swallowed pills because of you!

Get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness right now!" Cole let out a weak, breathy cough from his pillows. "Chloe, stop.

It's not Rowan's fault." His voice was a fragile, manufactured whisper. "I'm just useless.

It's my fault for taking up space in a family that isn't mine." He looked away, a perfectly timed tear slipping down his cheek. "If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have tried to end his life." Evelyn crumbled.

She wiped her eyes and turned to me, her voice thick with desperation. "Rowan, please. Just apologize to him." She wrung her hands. "He’s so sensitive.

He can't handle this kind of stress. If you don't say you're sorry, the guilt will eat him alive." Chloe scoffed. "And that's not all.

When we introduce you to our circle, you're going to be his hired companion.

I will not have people gossiping about Cole's position in this family." Vincent and Evelyn stood silently. Not a single word of objection.

Chloe crossed her arms, her tone dropping into a businesslike negotiation. "I'm not unreasonable.

Play along, apologize properly, and keep your mouth shut about your real identity, and I'll grant you one request." She stood tall, dripping with the arrogance of the family heir.

A new sports car, a penthouse downtown, a blank check—she had the capital to make it happen. I stared at the floor. I wanted nothing. My silence snapped her patience.

She snatched a plastic bottle off the bedside table and hurled it straight at my head. "Who do you think you are?" she snapped. "Cole is flawless.

You are nothing compared to him!" The heavy plastic slammed into my temple. A dull throb radiated across my forehead.

My reflexes kicked in, and I caught the bottle before it hit the floor. I brushed my thumb over the prescription label. Eszopiclone. Sleeping pills.

Chapter 4 "Enough." Vincent’s voice cut through the chaos. He rubbed his temples, his face lined with exhaustion as he laid down the final verdict. "Rowan, apologize to Cole.

We can figure out the details of your identity later—" He froze. His pupils dilated. The empty plastic bottle lay at my feet. My cheeks bulged, packed tight with chalky blue pills.

They were all against me. If my real parents were still breathing, they never would have let me stand here and take this. "Ah!" Cole shrieked.

The piercing sound snapped the room out of its paralysis. Vincent lunged. He tackled me around the waist, his thick fingers instantly digging into the back of my throat.

Chloe’s face twisted into a dark scowl as she joined in, prying my jaws apart and clawing at my tongue. "Are you out of your mind?!" she yelled, spit flying from her lips. "Are you doing this just to trigger Cole?!" Without water, the pills were like swallowing dry sand.

Someone jammed the metal handle of a spoon down my throat. Bile surged up my esophagus. My stomach convulsed, heaving a slurry of blue sludge and acid onto the hardwood floor.

Dying was seriously too much work. They locked me up. A psychiatrist came by to ask pointless questions, his voice a persistent drone that made me want to claw my own ears off.

I scoured the room for anything sharp, anything heavy. Nothing. They had even padded the walls with thick acoustic foam. I couldn't even crack my skull open if I tried.

Once the doctor stamped "Severe Clinical Depression" on my chart, the 24/7 surveillance began. They forced pills down my throat every single morning. The medication was heavy.

It didn't cure anything; it just turned my blood to sludge and wrapped my brain in thick cotton.

The memories of my dead families started slipping through my fingers, blunted and out of reach. Time bled together.

I'd watch the morning sun hit the window, blink, and suddenly the room was pitch black. Tonight, they missed a dose.

The chemical fog lifted just enough to leave me wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Muffled voices drifted through the heavy oak door. Cole. And Chloe.

My name slipped through the crack in the doorframe. They were relentlessly exhausting. The night nurse who usually watched me was nowhere to be seen.

I dragged myself out from under the covers. I just wanted to tell them to shut up and leave me alone. My bare feet made no sound against the carpet.

As I neared the door, the muffled words sharpened into focus. "Mom, Dad, if I just move out…" Cole was saying. Chloe cut him off instantly. "Absolutely not.

You've never had to rough it a day in your life.

How are we supposed to sleep at night knowing you're out there all by yourself?" I could picture her stepping in front of him, playing the fiercely protective sister. "Are you two regretting this?" Chloe's voice dropped a fraction. "Don't forget, we found Rowan a long time ago.

We intentionally left him in the foster system for Cole's sake. It was all for Cole's health." My hand froze inches from the brass doorknob.

The English language suddenly sounded like static. "If you ask me, we should have just written those hicks a fat check and let them keep Rowan forever," Chloe continued, her tone frighteningly casual. "But you two insisted that he was your biological son." "You were terrified he'd get too attached to those foster families and refuse to acknowledge you later.

So you engineered those accidents." "You killed off his foster parents, over and over, just to uproot him and stick him in a new home." Ice water injected straight into my veins.

The floor tilted beneath my feet. "Every time he built a bond with a new family, you wiped them out," she stated, listing off the atrocities like a grocery list. "When you were scared he’d leave the state for college, you paid someone to void his SAT scores.

When he started excelling at that corporate job, you framed him for embezzlement so he'd get blacklisted from the entire industry." "He's a broken mess because you made him one.

You already chose Cole. What’s the point of playing the guilty, weeping parents now?" I stood paralyzed in the dark. Chapter 5