The Unmasked Heiress: Isabella Hartman is back

Bella's pov-I gazed at myself in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair, my fine dark chestnut hair cascading in gentle waves over my shoulders, my eyes clear and appraising for the first time in months. My navy suit was custom fit to my body, and its simple yet sophisticated look was a silent protest against the thick make-up that Ethan used to insist that I wear to cover up my old life. Today, I wasn’t hiding. Today I was Isabella Hartman, not Bella Sinclair.My phone was vibrating, but I ignored it, staring at the television screen that was bombarding the headlines on every major network. My phone kept vibrating like crazy on the glass coffee table. “Isabella Hartman, Long-Lost Heiress of the Ashcroft Empire, Comes Home to Claim Her Birthright!” The words scrolled across the screen, bold, below a photo of me from my press conference last night. San Francisco was stunned — everyone assumed I’d died. When my father, Victor Hartman, died and my mother gone, I had disappeared,

Bella's pov-I was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to my chest, staring at the silent TV, where reporters were breaking down the viral video of Ethan and Lilian. The headlines had been refocused, thanks to Maggie. My best friend, ever the intense influencer, had launched her platforms with the same fervor, as she filmed a fiery video defending me. "It wasn’t Isabella Hartman who leaked that video," she had declared. “She’s not some bitter ex looking for revenge. Ethan Blackvale cheated on her with her own stepsister and now he’s the victim? Shame on him.”What she said changed the momentum. And while social media was previously abuzz with accusations that I’d leaked the footage out of revenge, it was now full of sympathy for me. Comments referred to me as “strong,” “resilient,” even “iconic.” Maggie enlisted her faithful devotees to amplify her message, and for the first time since the scandal erupted, I experienced a glimmer of relief. I was wide open, my heart aching from Etha

Bella’s povThe stranger’s dark amber eyes captured mine, his faint smile as disarming as Ethan’s never was. My heart rattled as I stood in the pulsating hall, my black gown a sharp contrast to the plastic chair I had just been pulled up from. “Who are you?” It was a struggle to keep my voice even in face of the shock of seeing his face again.“I’m Elijah Blackvale,” he said, low and with a soft voice. “Ethan’s twin.” He held out his hand, his sharp blazer and jeans projecting a polished yet approachable vibe where Ethan went for cool, tailored suits. “And I think I must be the E. Black who invested a billion dollars in Ashcroft.”My jaw nearly dropped again. Elijah Blackvale? Ethan’s twin? I shook his hand, my mind spinning. “I had no idea that Ethan had a twin.” I said, my eyes scanning his face. The resemblance was eerie — the same chiseled jaw, the same imposing height — but Elijah’s presence was more inviting, his mussed grown up brown hair a softening influence on the sharp angl

Bella's povThe text threat seared through my brain, its chilling words —Step down as Ashcroft heiress, or you’ll be dead by week’s end—a perfect reminder of those closing in on me. I shook as I shoved my phone in my pocket, gazing through the glass walls of my office and, I was certain, at the reflection of my haggard face. Elijah slightly furrowed his eyes at the change in my tone, but I restrained the push. I had lived through betrayal; I refused to be paralyzed by fear. But the enormity of it all — Kilan’s threats, Ethan’s games, and now this — sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I needed a distraction, a person to hold me down before I fell apart.“Elijah,” I said, my voice more even than I felt, “wanna get lunch?” I’d invited him on a whim, feeling a sudden longing for company while the creeping terror began to cloud my reality. His smile was bright, a real smile that erased the chiseled lines he had passed on to Ethan, and still felt wrong. “I would enjoy that,” he said

Bella’s pov-I could still hear the tires screeching as Elijah reached down and yanked me out of the street, his muscular arms clutching me, holding me to his chest. My heart pounded, not just from the car that almost hit me, but also from the force of his grip. His gaze connected with mine, a fierce but warm amber intensity that triggered a memory I couldn't find. His presence — protective, unyielding — felt so… familiar, a repeat of the moment I once imagined Ethan saved me from a bullet. But I could feel Elijah’s presence, unguarded and raw, unlike Ethan’s smooth charm. “You okay?” he said, his voice low, even, his hands still holding me up.I nodded and took a step back, my gown flapping in the cool wind. “Thanks,” I said, my voice quavering. My security ran ahead, searching the street for the disappeared car, but I was thinking of Elijah. The way he’d called my name, and the urgency with which he’d held my wrist, it awoke something deep, something unsettled. Was this connected to