Filed to story: The Heiress Rises From Ashes Book PDF Free
She then muttered, “She ordered a ridiculous amount of expensive clothes! I can’t wait to see how she plans to pay for them!”
She then went downstairs and stationed herself in the living room, smugly waiting for Luca and Selene to come down. Soon enough, they exited the elevator, wheeling out the empty clothing racks. Rachael snorted, convinced they would soon come to her, begging for the bill to be settled.
But to her surprise, neither of them stopped to speak with anyone from the Harper family. They just went straight for the door and left. Confused, she hurried after them, calling from the steps, “Aren’t you going to ask for the money for the clothes?”
Luca and Selene didn’t spare Rachael a glance. Without a word, they loaded the racks into the MPV and drove off.
When Rosie stepped out of the doctor’s office, she finally checked her phone. As she scrolled through the messages, she clicked on the pictures Rachael had sent. She gasped in disbelief. “How on earth…”
The clothes in those photos… They weren’t just expensive. They were M&G’s exclusive, unreleased collection-pieces only seen in private fashion circles.
She had tried to secure them two months ago, but even with her connections, she was told they were unavailable. Yet somehow, Brenna-who had nothing-had gotten her hands on them. She was trembling with anger.
This couldn’t be happening. She had to take them from Brenna. Jaw tightening, she flung open the car door and got inside, saying sharply, “Drive.”
To her irritation, the car remained eerily silent-no engine start, no acknowledgment from the driver. Even if Neville worked for Ethan, he was still just an employee. How dare he just disregard her like this? She snapped her head up, ready to scold him-only to find the driver’s seat completely empty. Neville was already gone.
Grinding her teeth, she had no choice but to drive herself home.
Brenna had only just returned, yet the Harpers’ absence made it clear she was being disregarded, their indifference bordering on coldness. Still, she refused to let it affect her composure. Having never known the warmth of a real family in the Barrett household, she held onto a sliver of hope that things might be different with the Harpers.
Their reception was disappointing, but she wasn’t ready to write them off just yet. At exactly six o’clock, she came downstairs to the first-floor living room, waiting for the Harper family members to return. She scrolled through her phone while she waited, replying to messages. Rosie was the first to return. Brenna barely looked up before going back to her screen, disregarding Rosie.
Rosie looked at Brenna. Brenna lounged on the leather sofa, her smooth skin illuminated under the soft lighting. Her long, tea-colored curls, streaked with blue highlights, cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a beige floral dress that looked somewhat out of place. Looking at her, Rosie felt irritated.
Yet, despite the mismatched outfit, Brenna’s beauty was undeniable-her delicate face captivating even without makeup. Sitting there in quiet composure, she looked like she had stepped straight out of a movie.
Rosie strode over and scoffed, “Didn’t you see me walk in? Why didn’t you greet me? So rude.”
Brenna’s eyes flicked to Rosie’s ankle-wrapped in thick bandages. She had seen Rosie walking just fine earlier. She didn’t look like someone injured at all.
She snorted inwardly, instantly realizing that Rosie had been putting on an act for Ethan back at the restaurant.
“I only hear a stupid donkey braying,” Brenna said coldly, not even bothering to look up.
Rosie’s jaw clenched in fury, and she checked the time. It was eight past six in the evening. Her grandparents would be back soon.
She couldn’t afford to let them see her bullying Brenna.
Brenna’s dress was a featured piece from a world-famous fashion magazine, and she carried it with the effortless elegance of a runway model.
A thought sparked in Rosie’s mind. She made her way to the fridge, retrieved two ice creams, and extended one toward Brenna.
“This is handmade by our personal chef,” she said sweetly. “No artificial additives. It’s much better than any ice cream you’ve had before. Try it.”
Brenna didn’t even move. She wasn’t foolish enough to fall for Rosie’s sudden kindness; she knew she had ulterior motives.
“No, thanks,” she replied.
At that moment, Brenna noticed a black sedan roll through the gates. She turned and headed toward the entrance.
Just then, the ice cream slipped from Rosie’s hand, splattering against her dress. A thick, sticky stain spread across the elegant material, dripping onto her shoes.
Limping after Brenna, Rosie headed to the car to open the door.
Before anyone could even step out of the car, she exclaimed dramatically, “Grandpa! Grandma! Look at her! I tried to be nice by offering her ice cream, but she refused and made a mess! Now my dress is ruined!”
Rosie wanted their grandmother, Tessa Harper, to see Brenna as nothing but trouble-a reckless, inconsiderate woman who didn’t belong in the family. If she could paint Brenna in a bad light from the start, it would be much easier to get rid of her.
She pouted, putting on a wounded expression. “Grandma, you have to do something about her.”
To make her case stronger, she stretched out her foot, making sure the thick bandage around her ankle was clearly visible.
Tessa had always been fond of Rosie, her affection deepened by sympathy. Having lost her parents at a young age and been raised by her second uncle and aunt, Rosie had always received much more indulgence from Tessa.
“You should go change. It’s important to stay presentable,” Tessa said. Despite her affection, Tessa was not blind to manipulation. She had lived long enough to know Rosie wasn’t just complaining-she was stirring up trouble for Brenna.
Brenna watched their exchange without a hint of emotion, making no effort to insert herself. She wasn’t interested in currying favor. If this family didn’t want her, she would just leave and live on her own.
From the other side of the car, Luther Harper stepped out. Dressed in a sharp suit, he carried himself with quiet authority. His hair had turned completely gray, and his back was bent with age. But his eyes softened when they landed on Brenna.
He walked slowly toward her, tears gathering in his eyes as he gently grasped her arms.
Brenna met his gaze, her tone polite as she said, “Nice to meet you, Grandpa.”
Luther nodded quickly, his voice warm with affection. “Good girl, you’ve been through so much. But don’t worry; you are home now. Oh, look at you, so thin! We need to make sure you’re eating properly from now on.”
Rosie quickly noticed Luther talking to Brenna. She turned to Luther with an exaggerated pout, pointing at her ankle. “Grandpa, I went to pick Brenna up because I wanted to do something nice for her, but she got mad that I was late and pushed me. That’s how I sprained my ankle.”
She didn’t even try to be subtle. Instead, she cast a smug glance at Brenna, waiting for her reaction. She had spent years crafting her image-the sweet, caring, well-behaved granddaughter.
She was the well-mannered girl everyone adored. She was kind to the staff, respectful to the elders, and never stirred up trouble.
Rosie had no doubt that everyone would take her side, never questioning whether she was falsely accusing Brenna.
She glared at Brenna, daring her to protest, fully convinced that Brenna’s attempt to defend herself would fall on deaf ears.