Todos os capítulos de The Heiress' Return For Vengeance : Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

ELISERight after the boardroom incident, the major networks announce an "exclusive interview" with Natasha and Alexander.Maria tries to hide the remote from me, but I insist on watching.The pristine white studio has soft, flattering lighting that makes both of them look angelic.Natasha and Alexander sit side by side on a cream-colored couch. Her face is red, suggesting she's been crying without actually looking unattractive while Alexander’s expression is grave.The host, known for her "empathetic" interviews with celebrities in crisis, leans forward with fake concern."Let's start with what everyone wants to know." Her voice is warm, inviting, designed to make her subjects feel safe enough to reveal their deepest secrets."Mr. Westfield, you dropped several bombshells in that boardroom. Can you tell us why you felt compelled to reveal such personal family information?"Alexander takes Natasha's hand as though he's struggling with difficult emotions."It wasn't easy," he begins. "

ELISEAn entire week passes in a blur of restless sleep and waking nightmares.I cry without knowing why, with tears streaming down my face before consciousness fully returns each morning.Some days I curl into a ball, sobbing into the pillow until it's soaked through.Maria finds me like this and immediately pulls me into her arms."I don't know why I'm crying," I gasp between sobs. "I just can't stop. Everyone hates me. Everyone thinks my mother was a whore and I'm a fraud. The whole country watched me fall apart."Other days I sleep for sixteen hours straight, hiding from consciousness, from the reality of what my life has become.When I finally wake, disoriented and groggy, Vera brings soup with gentle insistence.I take three sips before my stomach rebels.The spoon clatters against the bowl as I push it away."I'm not hungry!"The sharpness in my voice when Vera tries to coax me to eat more makes her flinch.I see the hurt in her eyes and feel a stab of guilt, but I can't seem t

ELISEBartholomew Westfield looks much younger than his years. His dark hair is barely touched with silver and his face unlined and handsome in a cold, aristocratic way.He's dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit.Everything about him radiates power and control, from his perfect posture to the way his eyes assess everything."Father-in-law," I say with polite formality despite the tension crackling through the room.His gaze flicks to me. Then a single, low "Hmm" is his only acknowledgment of my greeting before he gestures with one elegant hand toward an empty chair.Beside him sits his first wife, Abigail Westfield. A sharp-faced woman with blonde hair and cold dark eyes that have watched decades of family politics unfold.Her smile is all teeth and no warmth.Gregory sits across from them. There's resentment in his eyes when he looks at me. Beside him sits Vivienne who makes no effort to hide her hatred.Her eyes burn with undisguised loathing.Alexander and Natasha soon c

ELISEI follow Mrs. Westfield through quieter, more elegant corridors.The East Wing feels different from the main house. Less oppressive, more refined.She leads me to a private sitting room that overlooks the estate's gardens.When she turns to face me, there's indiscernible emotions in her eyes. Then her gaze drops to the pendant around my neck.She stares at it for too long and her hands shake slightly before she claps them together."Come, sit with me."I sit in the chair she indicates, feeling like I'm being evaluated by a particularly astute predator.The stern woman helping her pours tea from a silver service, her movements practiced and graceful. But I notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she has to concentrate to keep the liquid from spilling.We sit in silence for a long moment until Celeste finally breaks the tense silence."That pendant. Where did you get it?"My hand goes to it protectively. "It was my mother's. She gave it to me before she died."Celeste's eye

KIERANKieran is in a boardroom in Brussels, listening to projections for the European markets when a call from his penthouse comes."Sir, Mrs. Westfield has been taken." Vincent's voice rings the second the call connects.Vincent's words hit Kieran like a sledgehammer to the chest.Around the table, executives continue discussing quarterly reports, oblivious to the fact that his world has just tilted off its axis.The numbers on the projection screen blur as the voices fade to white noise.Everything narrows to a single point of focus.Elise."Taken where?" His voice is controlled, but his knuckles are white where they grip the phone."The Old Master's people, Portala. She went willingly to avoid bloodshed."Kieran's jaw clenches so hard his teeth ache."They're heading to the estate."The estate. That word alone carries the weight of decades of trauma, manipulation, and cruelty.The place where Kieran learned that love was weakness and sentiment was a liability to be exploited.And