Justice for the Vance Heiress

I woke up on my wedding day, the morning sun streaming into my opulent Charleston bedroom.

But the taste of asphalt and blood was still in my mouth, memories of screeching tires and a crushing impact vivid in my mind.

My stepfather' s perfect plan: a staged hit-and-run, his neat solution to inherit my mother' s fortune.

Because I had died.

Now I was back, alive, staring at the date-my wedding day, the day he had me killed.

A wave of phantom pain, of broken bones and crushed hope, washed over me.