Rebirth: The Blind Heiress Makes A Deal With The Devil

Twenty minutes later, on the isolated outskirts of the city, Clara stood by the rusty guardrail of a coastal backroad.

The wind blew hard off the dark ocean below. The city skyline was just a distant line of blinking lights in the fog.

A sleek black SUV pulled up along the dirt shoulder, its headlights cutting through the mist. Two large men in casual clothes stepped out.

"Are you Clara from Kazarov’s estate?" the driver asked, his voice rough but polite.

"Yes! Yes, Mr. Carter sent me!" the maid said, running forward, clutching her small duffel bag to her chest. "Is it safe? Are we going to the airport?"

"Yeah, everything’s prepared," the man said, opening the back door for her. "Get in. We have to switch vehicles at the lookout point a mile ahead so nobody tracks this plate."

"Thank you so much," she gasped, climbing inside, tears of relief wiping away her fear. Kian had kept his word. She was going to get away with it.

The SUV drove another half-mile down the winding cliffside road, finally pulling off into a dark, gravel parking area right at the edge of a massive cliff overlooking the water. A second, older car was already parked there in the shadows, its engine idling.

"Alright, step out," the driver told her. "Hop into the sedan. That’s the one taking you to the airfield."

"Okay," the maid said happily. She opened her door, pulled her bag out, and took three steps toward the idling sedan.

’BANG.’

A single sharp gunshot shattered the quiet of the night air.

Clara didn’t even have time to turn around.

The bullet caught her square in the back of the head. Her body went instantly limp, dropping onto the cold gravel like a sack of wet stones, her small bag rolling to a stop near the edge of the cliff.

The driver of the sedan stepped out, tossing a small silencer into his pocket. He picked up his phone, dialing a quick number.

"Sir," the driver said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. "It’s done."

"Dispose of the body properly," Luke’s voice came through the speaker. "No traces."

"Got it."

The driver hung up, taking a long drag of smoke as he walked over to the corpse. The two men from the SUV walked over, looking down at the dead woman without a single drop of remorse.

"Usual spot?" one of the SUV men asked, tossing his key ring in his hand.

"Yeah, weigh her down and drop her over the cliff into the current," the driver scoffed, kicking a pebble off the edge into the black water below. "Kazarov’s men won’t find her for six months, and by then the fish will have done the work."

They laughed quietly, joking about the drafty night air as if they were discussing the weather, completely unfazed by the body lying three feet away from their boots.

The driver from the SUV waved a hand as he climbed back into his vehicle. "Alright, I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you boys. I’m getting a burger."

The SUV reversed smoothly, its tires crunching over the gravel before speeding back up the road toward the city lights, leaving the dark cliff behind.

The next morning, the bedroom in the Kazarov estate smelled of soft lavender and salt.

Inside the private bathroom, Isabella was on her knees in front of the porcelain toilet, her body retching violently as she threw up whatever little water was left in her stomach.

"Easy... Easy," a deep, rough voice murmured above her.

Aaron was kneeling beside her on the cold tile floor, one of his massive hands holding her dark hair back off her face, his other palm broad and warm against her bare lower back, rubbing steady, gentle circles as her body heaved.

When the wave finally passed, Isabella leaned back against his broad chest, gasping for air, her lips wet, her face drenched in cold sweat.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He took a damp, warm hand towel he had prepared and gently wiped her mouth and face. Then, effortlessly sliding his arms beneath her knees and back, he scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing at all.

"I can walk, Aaron..." she protested weakly, her voice raspy, her sightless eyes unfocused as her head rested against his neck.

"You’re too stubborn for your own good," Aaron growled softly, carrying her out of the bathroom and laying her down gently onto the massive king-sized bed. He pulled the heavy silk duvet up over her shoulders, tucking her in securely.

Isabella buried her face into the soft pillows, feeling suffocated by her own body. The weakness, the nausea, the dark blindness that kept her trapped in a world of shadows... it all felt like a prison she couldn’t wait to get out of.

Even with Aaron protecting her, even with a second chance at life, she felt pathetic.

She was a burden, a broken woman who couldn’t even keep her own stomach quiet while a giant Russian billionaire catered to her every whim like she was a helpless infant.

"Don’t look like that," Aaron murmured, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek.

Isabella turned her face away from his hand, her breath catching in her throat. "Aaron... please. Don’t look at me right now. I’m a mess. I hate this."

"Isabella," he said, his voice dropping into a stern, unyielding rumble.

"How did he even manage to get that information?" she whispered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly over her belly. "What if he takes everything from me? What if he uses this to lock me back in that house?"

"I told you," Aaron said, taking her trembling hand and forcing her to let go of the sheets. "It was a rat. And the rat has will be dealt with."

Isabella swallowed, recognizing the dark edge in his tone. She didn’t ask what "dealt with" meant. She didn’t want to know. But the fear was still there, a tight knot in her chest that made her try to pull her hand back from his grip.

Aaron frowned. He hated when she pulled away from him. He hated when she let that ghost of a husband creep back into her head and make her feel small.

Before she could pull her leg back under the covers, Aaron reached out, his big hand landing hard against her ass over the duvet... a sudden, sharp SMACK that echoed through the quiet bedroom.

Isabella gasped, her eyes widening in absolute shock as a bright, hot flush instantly flooded her pale cheeks. "Aaron!"

"Stop pulling away from me," Aaron said smoothly, a faint, dangerous amusement lacing his deep voice as he leaned down until his lips were brushing the shell of her burning ear. "You worry about resting. You worry about staying warm. Let me handle the rest."

Isabella’s heart was pounding, her face completely hot, her mind completely derailed from her dark thoughts. "You... you’re unbelievable!"

Before Aaron could reply, a quiet knock sounded at the bedroom door. A guard stepped inside, his face serious.

"Boss," he said softly. "The court-appointed medical team has just arrived at the front gate. Judge Daniel sent two doctors and a court official to conduct the pregnancy test."

The flush on Isabella’s face drained away instantly, replaced by a fresh wave of panic. Her hands clutched Aaron’s forearm. "They’re here..."

Aaron stood up slowly, smoothing the front of his shirt, his blue eyes calm and steady as he looked down at her terrified face. He reached down, cupping her face in his broad hands, forcing her to focus entirely on the warmth of his skin.

"Listen to me, small one," Aaron whispered, his voice dark, heavy, and absolute. "We’re going to let them take the blood and write their reports. It doesn’t matter if they confirm one baby or ten."

He kissed her forehead, slow and firm.

"You are getting that divorce," Aaron promised softly. "And no man on this earth is taking you away from me."

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