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Chapter 6

last update Última actualización: 2025-06-09 15:49:51

{Hailey’s pov}

“Enough.” Agne’s husband stepped in. “We will sort this out.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be sorted.” Mr. Smith reentered the strife.

“You will find the will is indefensible, with significant disincentives to any who might be tempted to challenge it.” I translated that to mean, roughly, shut up and sit down.

“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Smith looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Aaron Lachlan, Marcus Lachlan, Luca Lachlan, and Julian Lachlan I leave…”

“Everything,” Agnes muttered bitterly.

Mr. Smith spoke over her. “Two hundred thousand dollars, payable on their birthday, until such time to be managed by Clara Smith trustee.”

“What?” Clara sounded shocked. “I mean… what?”

“The hell,” Aaron told her pleasantly. “The phrase you’re looking for, darlin’, is what the hell?”

George hadn’t left everything to his grandsons. Given the scope of his fortune, he’d left them a pittance.

“What is going on here?” Julian asked, each word deadly and precise.

George Lachlan didn’t leave everything to his grandsons. He didn’t leave everything to his daughters. My brain ground to a halt right there. My ears rang.

“Please, everyone,” Mr. Smith held up his hand. “Allow me to finish.”

Forty-six point two billion dollars, I thought, my heart attacking my rib cage and my mouth sandpaper-dry. George Lachlan was worth forty-six point two billion dollars, and he left his grandsons a million dollars, combined. Hundred thousand total to his daughters. Another half million to his servants, The math in this equation did not add up. It couldn’t add up.

One by one, the other occupants of the room turned to stare at me.

“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Smith read,

“including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Hailey Vale.”

This is not happening.

This cannot be happening.

I’m dreaming.

I’m delusional.

“He left everything to her?” Debra’s voice was shrill enough to break through my stupor.

“Why?” Gone was the woman who’d mused about my astrological sign and regaled me with tales of her sons and lovers. This Debra looked like she could kill someone. Literally.

“Who the hell is she?” Agnes’s voice was knife-edged and clear as a bell.

“There must be some mistake,” Julian spoke like a person used to dealing with mistakes. Bribe, threaten, buy out, I thought. What would the “heir apparent” do to me?

This is not happening. I felt that with every beat of my heart, every breath in, every breath out. This cannot be happening.

“He’s right.” My words came out in a whisper, lost to voices being raised all around. I tried again, louder.

“Julian’s right.” Heads started turning in my direction.

“There must be some mistake.” My voice was hoarse. I felt like I’d just jumped out of a plane. Like I was skydiving and waiting for my tube to open.

This is not real. It can’t be.

“Hailey.” Kiara nudged me in the ribs, clearly telegraphing that I should shut up and stop talking about mistakes.

But there was no way. There had to have been some kind of mix-up. A man I’d never met hadn’t just left me a multi-billion-dollar fortune. Things like that didn’t happen, period.

“You see?” Debra latched on to what I’d said. “Even Helly agrees this is ridiculous.”

This time, I was pretty sure she’d gotten my name wrong on purpose. The remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Hailey Vale. Debra Lachlan knew my name now.

They all did.

“I assure you, there is no mistake.” Mr. Smith met my gaze, then turned his attention to the others. “And I assure the rest of you, George Lachlan's last will is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Hailey, we’ll cease with the drama. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Hailey’s inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely.”

Hailey’s inheritance. I felt dizzy, almost nauseous. Traps upon traps,” Marcus murmured. “And riddles upon riddles.” I could feel his dark green eyes on mine.

“I think you should leave,” Julian told me curtly. Not a request. An order.

“Technically…” Clara Smith sounded like she’d just swallowed arsenic. “It’s her house.”

She really hadn’t known what was in the will. She’d been kept in the dark, just like the family. How could George Lachlan blindside them like this? What kind of person does that to their own flesh and blood?

“I don’t understand,” I said out loud, dizzy and numb, because none of this made any kind of sense.

“My daughter is correct.” Mr. Smith kept his tone neutral. “You own it all, Ms.Vale. Not just the fortune, but all of Mr.Lachlan’s properties, including Lachlan House. Per the terms of your inheritance, which I will gladly go over with you, the current occupants have been granted tenancy unless—and until—they give you cause for removal.” He let those words hang in the air. “Under no circumstances,” he continued gravely, his words rife with warning. “Will those tenants remove you.”

The room was suddenly silent and still. They’re going to kill me. Someone in this room is going to kill me.

The man I’d pegged as a former military strode to stand between me and George Lachlan’s family. He said nothing, crossing his arms over his chest, keeping me behind him and the rest of them in his sight.

“Williams!” Agnes sounded shocked. “You work for this family.”

“I worked for Mr. Lachlan.” Williams Brown paused and held up a piece of paper. It took me a moment to realize that it was his letter. “It was his last request that I continue in the employment of Ms. Hailey Vale.” He glanced at me. “Security. You’ll need it.”

“And not just to protect you from us!” Aaron added to my left.

“Take a step back, please,” Williams ordered.

Aaron held his hands up. “Peace,” he declared. “I make bad predictions in peace!”

“Aaron’a right.” Marcus smiled like this was all a game.

“The entire world’s going to want a piece of you, Mystery Girl. This has the story of the century written all over it.”

Story of the century. My brain kicked back into gear because this was every indication. It wasn't a joke.

I wasn’t delusional

I wasn't dreaming

I was an heiress.

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  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 75

    When Julian left, Williams walked me back to the house. His presence was silent but heavy, like the echo of everything I couldn’t stop replaying in my head.“How much did you hear?” I asked him. My voice sounded calm, but inside, I was barely holding it together.Williams gave me that steady, unreadable look of his. “How much do you want me to have heard?”I bit my lip. “You knew George Lachlan. Tell me honestly, would he have picked me just because Eloise Laughlin died on my birthday? Did he leave his entire fortune to someone random? Like he was drawing names from a hat?”Williams shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Hailey. The only person who ever really knew what George Lachlan was thinking was Mr. Lachlan himself.”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.The hallways of Lachlan House felt colder than usual as we walked through them, too wide, too polished, too empty. Somewhere behind one of those doors, Marcus was probably destroying something. Julian was probably disappearing into silenc

  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 74

    There had to be more.There had to be.I couldn’t just be a random person picked because I was born on the right calendar date. That couldn’t be the whole story.What about my mother? What about the secret she had whispered to me on my fifteenth birthday—one year before Eloise had died? She had been dying then herself, her voice thin but determined. I have a secret, about the day you were born…What about George Lachlan’s letter? The only thing it had said was: I’m sorry.Sorry for what? He hadn’t just picked a birthday out of a hat. He hadn’t just chosen some girl at random.There had to be more.And yet, I could still hear Luca’s words circling my brain like vultures: You’re the glass ballerina—or the knife.Maybe both.“I’m sorry,” Julian said suddenly beside me. His voice was rough, like it had been dragged across gravel. “It’s not Marcus’s fault that he’s like this. It’s not Marcus’s fault…” His throat tightened. “That this is how the game ends.”Julian Lachlan. The one who never

  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 73

    I’d only halfway believed Aaron when he’d promised me a helicopter, but there it was, on the front lawn of Lachlan House, blades still. Williams wouldn’t let me step foot aboard until he’d checked it over. Even then, he insisted on taking the pilot’s spot. I climbed in the back and discovered Marcus already there. “Order a helicopter?” he asked me, like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. I buckled myself into the seat next to him. “I’m surprised you waited for liftoff.” “I told you, Heiress.” He gave me a crooked smile. “I don’t want to do this alone.” For a split second, it was like the two of us were back at the racetrack, barreling toward the finish line, then outside the helicopter, a flash of black caught my eye. A tuxedo. Julian’s expression was impossible to read as he climbed on board. Did Marcus tell you that I killed her? The echo of the question was deafening in my mind. The way both of them quarreled, I don’t know who to believe anymore. Marcus’s head whipped tow

  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 72

    I survived dinner without anyone trying to poison me or stab me under the table. That counted as a win. Marcus never showed, though, and that left an emptiness I couldn’t name.When the meal ended, I leaned close to Clara. “I need some air.”She didn’t argue. I didn’t go outside, though. I couldn’t face the cameras or reporters waiting to shout questions at me again. Instead, I slipped into another wing of the museum, Williams trailing behind me like my shadow.This part of the building was closed for the evening. The lights were dim, the rooms roped off, and the air was cool and still. As I walked down the long hall, my heels clicked softly against the floor. Williams’ steady footsteps followed mine.Then, up ahead, a door stood open. A light spilled out, sharp and bright, almost blinding compared to the dark corridor. Someone had pushed the velvet cord aside, leaving the room exposed.I stepped in.The sudden brightness felt like stepping into sunlight after sitting in a dark theate

  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 71

    “Hailey, look over here!”“Any comment about Craig Benson’s arrest?”“Can you comment on the future of the Lachlan Foundation?”“Is it true your mother was once arrested for solicitation?”The last question would have knocked me off my feet if I hadn’t been through seven rounds of practice with Adam. Instead of snapping back with the words I wanted—words with plenty of curse words—I kept my face calm. I stood still by the car, waiting.And then came the question I had been prepared for.“With everything that’s happened, how do you feel?”I looked straight at the reporter who asked. “I’m grateful to be alive,” I said clearly. “And I’m grateful to be here tonight.”The gala was inside an art museum. We entered on the upper floor and descended a sweeping marble staircase that seemed to go on forever. By the time I was halfway down, everyone in the huge hall below had turned their eyes toward me—or looked away in that deliberate, heavy way that was even worse.At the bottom of the stairs,

  • The Stripping Heiress    Chapter 70

    After my session with Adam, he left me in my bedroom where a small army was already waiting Clara’s chosen stylists, all sharp-eyed and buzzing with energy. I could have told them to leave. I could have said I wasn’t going to the gala. But Adam’s words echoed in my head. What message would that send if I refused? That I was scared? That I had something to hide? That Kiara was guilty? She’s not. I repeated it to myself like a prayer. She’s not guilty. I was halfway through hair and makeup when the door opened. Kiara slipped inside, her face blotchy, streaked with mascara. She’d been crying. My heart jumped painfully in my chest. She didn’t do anything wrong. She couldn’t have. Kiara froze for a second, just long enough for me to notice the panic in her eyes. Then she rushed forward and threw her arms around me, squeezing like she was afraid to ever let go. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against my shoulder. “I am so, so sorry.” My blood went cold. Just for a moment. “I s

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