The Heiress's Revenge のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, I woke up to the soft buzz of the city, its lights still glistening like the promise of things I used to believe in. The dull memory of the late hour and the wine I had sipped—more out of anxious habit than thirst—was the throb in my brain. Alexander slept still next to me, breathing steadily, as if our evening together had been just another transaction in his neatly structured universe.However, it had not felt like business at all last night.My bare feet brushed the plush carpeting as I slid out of bed. His warmth and the echo of his flesh on mine were still palpable to my body, and I was not sure whether I should be happy about it or afraid of the vulnerability it brought. My biggest danger had always been to reveal who I was, my secrets, my worries. And yet here I was, unprotected, in the arms of the guy I had foolishly married.Silently, I put on the plain gray dress I had on before. The sheen of silk across my skin was visible even in the

My suit was just pressed when I got to Reid Industries, and I was already planning for eventualities. The faint sound of my footfall as soon as I entered the foyer served as a reminder of how vulnerable we had become. Ethan's antics were no longer an annoyance; rather, they posed a direct risk to Sophia's security and the meticulously maintained incognito she still maintained. Marta, my assistant, greeted me at the elevators with a somber look on her face. "You must see this, sir." She gave me a tablet with a breaking-news push alert on it( "Uncovering the Mysterious Heiress: Barista 'Sophia Thomas' Is not Who She Says She Is") My heart pounded. A murky image from a paparazzo's long-lens photograph accompanied the headline Sophia exiting The Lantern Café, her face vaguely familiar to everyone who had seen her in the boardroom. A source at Lancaster Industries who had "revealed all" was alluded to in the story. I tapped the article open and scowled. It gave details of rumors that S

Despite the long hours, Alexander's fine gray suit was still well-pressed as he came out of his study. He placed a stack of documents on the coffee table between us, including newspaper articles, board reports, and legal filings. "This afternoon, I had a conversation with your father," he stated in a firm but kind tone. "He wants you to attend tomorrow night's charity gala. It is essential to the reputation of Lancaster Industries. I looked over at him. I am aware that he inquired. However, I do not feel ready to host again so quickly. He scowled. "Your presence will reinforce the authenticity narrative after today's triumph. It will demonstrate your support for both families. I folded my arms. However, I did not choose this life to be shown as a prize. I choose it to assist people—to change things that do not make the news. He clenched his jaw. "To win the game, you sometimes have to act the part." I became enraged. "It sounds just like the world I was trying to get away from."

I could feel the nervousness making my hands slippery, even in the bright light. Despite Alexander's reluctance, I had insisted on co-hosting this event since it was my gala. The first round of scholarships awarded by the "Thomas Initiative," the organization I had subtly established before anybody knew my identity, will be up for auction tonight. As I smoothed the fabric of my emerald-green gown, I encouraged myself to take a deep breath. The color was striking and out of the ordinary for an heiress, but I had picked it on purpose.Black and blue are not colors I would hide in. I would radiate green, the hue of rebirth and expansion. I allowed my eyes to settle on the elevated dais at the far end of the room, where my father and Alexander stood with courteous but aloof looks. Whether by blood or contract, we were family, and we had to look like one tonight. I started as I felt a gentle touch on my elbow. Uncle Bruce was standing there as I turned around, his silver-gray hair styled

With a glass of iced green tea in hand, I entered the penthouse terrace into the balmy late-summer evening air. As Alexander and I held a small rooftop supper, a few of my best friends from The Lantern Café—Marisol, Jay, Lila, Marco, and Tess—moved about inside and settled into comfortable seats. Manhattan's cityscape stretched below us like a living tapestry while string lights twinkled above. I felt calm for the first time since my whole life had fallen apart. I silently lifted my cup in toast. "To fresh starts—and to friends who help me remember who I really am." Their grins were real and brilliant as they clinked their glasses against mine. Warm bread and fresh basil from the little herb garden at my feet blended with the aroma of marinated fish. Stories of Alexander's ­­—admittedly hilarious—attempts to create latte art and other café mishaps caused laughter to erupt all around me. Alexander looked at me from the other side of the table. He lowered his voice to a whisper and l