The Heiress Novels & Stories

The billionaire who couldn’t be broken. I don’t clap. I can’t. Because while the world sees triumph, I see the truth. She doesn’t trust this peace. Not for a second. Her posture is too rigid. Her jaw too tight. Every muscle in her body is still waiting for a blow that isn’t coming. She is celebrated, untouchable, unstoppable, but still braced for war. She did after all mess with a lot of powerful people, leaked their secrets in this war with the Cross family.

“You think you’re clever? You’ll be gone soon enough.” Now that she was close, Izora recognized her. Aralyn Nathaniel. Of course. The Aralyn heiress of ANFI, the fashion empire. The woman who once wore the title of Kaiser's fiancée. There was no rumor. She was real. And terrifying. Before Izora could form words, heavy footsteps approached. Kaiser. His voice cut through the moment like a blade dipped in ice. “If you’re going to make a scene in my house,” he said, voice calm but dangerous, “then leave.”

I felt like a new being, the usual cold breeze now turned hot on my skin. “Silver!” a familiar voice called. This could only be one person. I darted my eyes to confirm my doubts. It was Amelia. Of course, she was. Wrapped in a golden-colored gown that fitted her curvy frame, her golden hair pinned like a crown around her cruel, perfect face. She was her mother’s favorite. The pack’s pride. The heir to everything I had never been allowed to dream of. “I am sorry for keeping you waiting.” “Still alive?” she said, sipping from the silver tea cup she was holding, as if it offended her that I still drew breathe.

Yet the Suttons persisted. The truth was simple: none of us had any desire to inherit the empire. Rowan’s passion was law. Mine was medicine. Kai lived for the stage and the roar of his fans. But now… with the possibility of a missing sister, everything had changed. If she were found, she might be the one to inherit. She might be the Harrison Heiress. I escorted Rowan and Kai to the airport, then drove straight to the Sutton estate. Malum met me at the door with his polished charm and led me into his study. Before I could sit, he barked an order across the hall.

It was almost 12:00 am She saved the document and closed it, feeling a small sense of satisfaction. Then, instead of shutting the laptop completely, she clicked around absentmindedly. Old files. Archived links. Things she hadn’t looked at in a long time. That was when she saw it. An old headline, saved in a forgotten folder. She clicked. The article loaded, and she laughed under her breath almost immediately. WILFRED HEIRESS CAUSES STIR AT RACING EVENT — Sources Say Billionaire’s Daughter ‘Unapologetically Reckless’

Isabella cursed inwardly. So this was one of the so-called elite. She recognized him now—Williams Edinburgh. Chairman of Crown Real Estate. Rank: tenth on the rich list. Reputation: disgusting. As expected. He reached for her again. This time, with more force. He was already dragging her toward the couch when— A hand landed on her shoulder. Cold. Steady. Familiar. Before she could react, she was pulled back— —and the next second, she was pressed into a firm embrace.

For three seconds there was silence in the auditorium. Then the room erupted. The reporters were typing furiously on their tablets. The condescension in the room was gone. Now people were scared. They realized that the heiress in overalls was not a figurehead. She was the architect. Silas looked down at Avery. He had a smile on his face. He was proud of her. He reached out under the cover of the podium. His hand gripped hers. They had officially left the yards. The crown was hers. The board belonged entirely to Avery and Silas.

Lyn handed her some papers, “your grandfather asked me to hide your identity as the heiress. Only me and the assistant manager knew.” ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

He didn't look homeless, and one can tell from one glance that he is well-read. The truth is I was not finding any of his questions funny as I felt miserable and pained from all the embarrassment I had earlier encountered. I pulled down my shirt for him to see out of annoyance. “Here it is sir, it is a fucking birthmark and I hate it, I will gladly give you if you want it," I said in frustration. “I'm so sorry to bother you my lady, but I happen to come from London, and this mark of yours is a mark that is mostly associated with the royal family, I think if that mark is real, that you may be a princess,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.