Betrayed by Blood: The Heiress’s Path to Revenge Novel – It was a stormy night of wind and snow at the Chapel of Haros. “Ms. Johnson, please don’t torture yourself over this. When you tumbled into the river, Ms. Celinda had on your cloak, so Mr. Steele saved the wrong person. He still has feelings for you. He does—deep down.” Layla Johnson stirred and slowly opened her eyes to the gentle voices. It was Heidi Olson, her personal maid. What… Isn’t Heidi supposed to be dead, beaten to death in the chapel while trying to shield me? Layla’s temples throbbed as if a hammer had struck them. Her thoughts were a mess. Without thinking, she turned toward the window and asked, “What time is it?” Heidi hurried to her side and helped her sit up.
“Ms. Johnson, you were made to kneel for three full hours. It’s already late evening now.” Late evening? Layla lowered her lashes, a dark emotion sliding through her gaze. “Go call Nathan.” Heidi’s expression crumpled at once, torn between anger and distress. “Ms. Johnson, are you really going to give in? Agree to Mr. Nathan’s scheme and let Mr. Steele marry Ms. Celinda as his second wife? You and Ms. Celinda fell into the river together. He saved the wrong one. That wasn’t your fault. “You can’t let Ms. Celinda step all over your dignity. And this engagement was promised to you by Lady Steele. It was meant to secure your future with the Steele family.
How could that illegitimate girl possibly deserve it?” To Heidi, Layla’s position was beyond question. She was a legitimate noble daughter. Her mother’s family had spilled blood on the battlefield for generations. Her betrothed was the marquis’ heir, a prodigy admired across Braya. Letting an illegitimate girl walk into the Steele household beside her? Impossible. A mistress’ seat would have been more fitting. Just what was Nathan thinking? His real sister was standing right here, yet he kept defending an outsider. “Enough. Go.” Layla straightened her legs, grabbed a chunk of wood, and dropped it into the brazier. The cold was biting to the bone. Heidi’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t dare argue further and quietly slipped out. … The moment the door closed, a blade of icy wind sliced into the room. Layla pulled her red fox-fur mantle tighter around herself.
Her face was no more than fifteen or sixteen—fine-boned, striking, the kind that drew the eye without trying. Last night, she and her half-sister had fallen into the river together. Her fiance had turned his back on her and rushed to save the other woman. After that, her own brother didn’t defend her. Instead, he seized the moment, claiming it was for the half-sister’s reputation, and urged their father to arrange for her fiance to take Celinda as a second wife. Layla cried. She fought back, refusing to concede. Her reward was being exiled to the Chapel of Haros to repent and reflect. Snow pressed loudly against the windows. Cold seeped in through every crack in the meditation hall. She had been kneeling before the statue of God when the dream came. In that dream, she was locked here for a full month. The priests meddled with her meals, destroying her martial art skills.
They forced her to sleep in a wood shed, fed her slop, made her drink filthy water—grinding her down until she barely resembled a person at all. Not long after she was finally brought home, she died on another bitter night of storm and snowfall. She once believed her death would finally wake her father and brothers. She was wrong. They didn’t even hesitate. Instead, they celebrated as they prepared for their half sister’s wedding. Even now, Layla couldn’t understand it. Celinda Johnson was born illegitimate—so why did their father treasure her? Why did her brothers dote on her? Why did even her fiance fall for her? Layla was the true daughter of the Johnson family—their real sister. … Outside the meditation hall, snow fell in hushed sheets. Wind clawed at the door, sharp with frost. She swallowed the ache in her chest and lifted her gaze to the statue of God. Was the god showing her mercy? Sending her that dream as a warning—pulling her back from the abyss? If the dream was real, then tonight, Celinda would pretend to fall ill. Nathan would hear the news and rush down the mountain with his men, leaving her and Heidi alone behind. That would be dangerous. Soon, hurried footsteps and voices echoed outside.
“Ms. Johnson, Mr. Nathan has arrived!” A rush of cold air swept in as the door opened. Layla turned her head. A young man in a white fox-fur cloak stood in the doorway—polished, elegant, effortlessly handsome. Nathan Johnson—the second son of the Johnson family. At the sight of the once-familiar yet now distant face again, pain surged through Layla’s chest. Once upon a time, she had been the jewel of the Johnson family—cherished by both father and brothers. When she burned with fever, Nathan had stayed by her bedside for three days and nights straight, praying without rest for her recovery. However, Celinda was brought home, everything tilted. For Celinda’s sake, they drove Layla straight toward her death with their own hands. Layla crushed those memories deep inside and took a few steps forward. Her nod was restrained and distant. “Hello, Nathan.” Chapter 2 Marrying Her Nathan lifted a brow, already bracing himself for another outburst—expecting her to snap at him like a spoiled princess or drown him in tears and grievances.