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Chapter 9: The weight of choices
Last Updated:
2025-08-11 21:33:30
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Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 11: Stepping into Power
The black SUV pulled up to the towering glass building that dominated the city skyline. Even through the tinted windows, I could see the gold lettering that spelled out "Jones Group" across the marble entrance. My stomach fluttered as I stared up at the structure that would one day be mine."Ready?" Mother asked, her hand finding mine.I nodded, though my mouth felt dry. The transformation over the past week had been remarkable. The cream-colored blazer fit perfectly, the heels no longer felt like torture devices, and when I caught my reflection in the car window, I barely recognized myself. Dalia's lessons had worked. I looked like someone who belonged here.The driver opened our door with a slight bow. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I felt the weight of curious stares. Business people in expensive suits paused mid-conversation. A few discreetly pulled out their phones."Chin up," Mother whispered. "You're a Jones."The lobby was all marble and crystal, with fresh orchids arranged o
Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 10: Someone Sees You
Emelda's POVIt had been four days since the stylists invaded my house, since Mother declared I would rise from the ashes whether I liked it or not. The fittings, the lessons, the hours spent learning how to walk into a room like I owned it—sometimes I wondered if I’d ever feel like I truly did.I was in the middle of a particularly brutal session with Dalia, learning how to walk gracefully in heels that felt like stilts, when my phone buzzed on the side table."Focus, Miss Jones," Dalia said sharply. "Grace comes from the core, not the feet."But I was already reaching for my phone, grateful for any distraction. The message made my breath catch.Hi Emelda. I know our first meeting didn't end well, but I'd like to try again if you're willing. Would you have coffee with me tomorrow? I can pick you up at 4pm if that works. - SmithMy heart hammered against my ribs. I'd been thinking about him for days—the way he'd looked when I'd accused him of using me, the hurt in his eyes when I'd ru
Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 9: The weight of choices
Rachel slammed the guest room door open so hard the hinges rattled. She stood there for a second, scanning the now-empty livingroom, her breath coming out in short, angry bursts. Katherina was gone— of course she was. The stylist stood awkwardly by the coffee table, clutching her sewing kit like a shield.Rachel’s eyes snapped to her. “Go home.”The stylist blinked. “Ma’am, I…”“Go. Now. We’ll reschedule when I’m not being treated like garbage in my own house.”The woman looked over at Allen, who was still standing by the stairs. He just nodded at her, looking helpless. She grabbed her pins and fabric pieces, whispered “Thank you, Mr. Carter,” and rushed out. The front door shut behind her.Rachel turned around, arms crossed tight over her chest. The half-zipped wedding dress was gone now, replaced by a simple slip that couldn't hide how angry she was.“Are you going to say something?” she hissed.Allen let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Rachel…”"Don't 'Rachel' me
Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 8: A Mother’s Fury
Author's POVAllen was in his study going through some office work.Meanwhile downstairs, Rachel's laughter mixed with her stylist's voice as they discussed fabric choices. He was halfway through reading a report when a loud, sharp voice cut through the air like a whip.“Allen!”The sound jolted him from his chair. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. His mother’s voice could make grown men sweat—and Allen had spent a lifetime learning not to flinch when she used it.He stepped out of his study just as Katherina swept into the living room. Her coat was still draped over her shoulders, her heels clicking across the polished floor like gunfire. Her eyes, dark and sharp, were locked onto the scene in front of her.Rachel stood near the large mirror in the corner, a white satin wedding gown half-zipped at her back. The stylist, a nervous young woman, was frozen mid-pin, eyes darting from Rachel to Katherina as if she might vanish if she stayed too still.Rachel turned, a bright smile
Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 7: Stilled Grace
By the time James pulled into the driveway, my head was pounding. I climbed the steps to my room like a ghost, the heavy front door clicking shut behind me. The moment I stepped inside my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my purse onto the floor.I didn’t want to think about the restaurant, the paparazzi, or the way Smith’s eyes had looked when I’d left him standing there. But the memory clung to me like wet clothes.I sank down onto the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. The soft blue dress that had felt safe this afternoon now felt like a costume. Who was I even trying to be?A soft knock broke the silence. I barely had time to say “Come in” before Mother pushed open the door, her perfume drifting in before her. She was still in her navy blazer and pearls, as polished at nine at night as she’d been at breakfast.“Well?” she asked, her eyes flicking over my face. “How did it go with Smith?”I forced my lips into a smile. “It went fine.”“Fine?” Sh
Return Of The Betrayed Heiress Chapter 6: First Impressions
I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, changing outfits for the third time.By the time two o’clock rolled around, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I’d changed my outfit three times—too formal, too casual, too much like I was trying to look like someone I wasn’t. In the end, I’d settled on a soft blue dress I’d worn once to a charity lunch. It made me feel safe, somehow, like a small piece of my old self still existed beneath the mess Allen had left behind.I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror before leaving. My hair looked okay, my makeup was subtle but fresh. The circles under my eyes were still faint shadows, but at least they were just shadows now—not dark pits that told the whole world how broken I felt inside.“Ma’am?” Mrs. Howell appeared at the bottom of the staircase, wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled at me, a kind, motherly smile that almost made me cry. “You look lovely. Don’t fret so much.”“Thank you, Mrs. Howell.” I forced a small laugh. “I feel like I’m g
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