The Heiress Novels & Stories

I wish he was here to see how far I have gone, I wish he could see that I fulfilled his dying wish. But Mason was right, I make a very good Heiress, and my father will always remain a proud dad because today marks a year since I became CEO of white nova robotics. Nova was my second name, and my dad had made sure to name his achievement after him like he knew one day it would be mine. I looked down at my hands, the diamond ring on my finger sparkled under the light of the stars and moon. It felt heavy because it cost a fortune and Mason had given it to me.

**ADRIAN** Adrian stood at the back of the ballroom, his champagne glass frozen halfway to his mouth. Heiress. The word kept repeating in his head. Heiress to the Ashford legacy. Not just some distant family member. Not just the daughter of a wealthy businessman. The heiress. The entire Ashford empire. Hotels. Resorts. Real estate. Investments spanning the entire country. And Kira was at the center of it all. Adrian’s hand tightened around his glass.

"S-Sorry." "Look, miss, look what you've done! Damn---wait, are you Keisha Santillan?" My forehead creased because I know her; when she removed her glasses, my jaw dropped; she looks sophisticated. And if I'm not mistaken, she was a famous model and commonly known as the only heiress of Jacinto Entertainment. "Y-Yes, it's me," I don't know why I'm so nervous as we wait for our order. I don't know how she persuaded me; I was preoccupied. I really had a bad feeling about this; it seems like something will happen that I won't like.

She retorted. "Heiress, how much does he pay you?" Zayn chimed in. "Come and work for me. I’ll pay you double." Axel narrowed his eyes as he darted his gaze at Zayn. "Why do you keep calling her an heiress?" "What I chose to call her is none of your fucking business!" Zayn snarled. "I could choose to call her princess, queen, or heiress." It’s none of your fucking business."

Elsie expressed. “Not every ladies’ dream, only the unserious fellows like you,” he split out. “And I am saying it right to your face now. You can never be an option. Not even at the present of no option other than you.” She bent to the left side and crossed her hands across her chest, snickering, “those are just words of tongue. I mean, it’s a slip of tongues. I am beautiful and well endowed. I am from a conglomerate heiress from the biggest family in the city,”

I asked Sebastian, not looking up. “The heiress,” he said. “Officially.” “Officially,” I repeated. “No interviews about her.” That bothered me more than resistance ever could. I searched for her name yet again. Vanderbilt heiress. Alessandra Vanderbilt. The results were thin. A Wikipedia page. A family tree. Her name is listed without a hyperlink. I clicked it, and nothing happened, even though I had done this several times. I leaned back, lips pressing into a thin smile that didn’t reach anywhere else.

The crest of a certain powerful and influential family. The young woman looked up at the soaring glass ceiling of the Wisteria Heights building, a small, mirthless smile playing on her lips. They thought she was a "loser." They thought she was a servant. They had no idea that the girl clearing their floors was the heir to a legacy that had once toppled an empire. She was a hidden heir. And she was a winner. And in the city of Wisteria, a new game was about to begin. The "loser" was back. And this time, she was coming for everything.

She gently eased out of Daphne’s grasp and stood, her steps unsteady but deliberate as she walked into the open space between us all. Every eye followed her without being asked to. She stopped, drew in a breath that seemed to catch halfway down, and pressed her lips together as if bracing herself. “I…” Her voice wavered, then steadied. “I’m the one you’re looking for.” Thorne stiffened. Killian turned fully toward her. Calista’s eyes widened, sharp and calculating. “I’m the heiress,” Isla said again, quieter now, the words tasting unfamiliar in her mouth. She swallowed hard. “I always have been.”

“That I’m nothing here?” Her father looked at her. And for the first time There was no warmth in his eyes. “You are my daughter,” he said. “But you are not the heir.” The room went completely still. Elara felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Not the heir. Just like that. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Then who is it? Why won’t you say it?” “That is not your concern,” he said firmly.