All Chapters of The Heiress' Return For Vengeance : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

NATASHAThe cathedral’s private lounge feels like a tomb. Heavy silence, and the suffocating weight of failure pressing down on all of us. It’s like the air itself is thick with disappointment.I sit on the edge of a settee, my bridesmaid dress spread out neatly around me, every inch the picture of devastation.My hands tremble just enough to look believable and my breaths shallow enough to hint at trauma without being over the top.Almost unconsciously, my hand drifts to my stomach. Flat for now, but not for long.Alexander’s baby is growing there—a secret I discovered this morning after three home tests confirmed what I already knew.The timing couldn’t have been better, even if Alexander’s reaction had been... strange.He didn’t yell. He didn’t smile, either. He just stood there, quiet and calculating with his expression unreadable.It made my skin crawl. But now, seeing him stand by me in the middle of this disaster, I know what’s driving him. It’s not me, it’s the baby. His heir.

ELISEI wake up to pain and darkness.It feels like my body is on fire, every nerve raw and screaming.The sheets beneath me are soaked with sweat, tangled tightly around my legs like they’re trying to hold me down.I try to move, but my muscles refuse, each attempt sending fresh waves of agony through my core.A soft knock breaks through the haze in my mind.“Mrs. Westfield?”I can’t answer.My throat is dry and raw like it’s been scraped with sandpaper.My lips are cracked, and the effort to speak feels impossible.The door creaks open anyway, letting a thin sliver of light cut through the darkness of the room.“Mrs. Westfield? I’ve brought your morning tea.”The name still feels surreal, like it doesn’t quite belong to me. I’ve been called this before, but in another life when I was married to a different Westfield. Back then, it was Alexander who was my husband. Now, it’s his uncle.The sound of a tray being set down quickly, followed by hurried steps.“Mrs. Westfield?”Cool finge

ELISEThe sound of hushed, urgent voices drags me from my restless sleep.My body feels heavy as though I’m wading through quicksand, yet my mind is clearer than it’s been in days.The fever has passed, but the uneasy tension in the air makes my skin prickle.Maria and Vera are near the doorway with their heads close together, whispering in tones that are sharp and hurried.“She’s still recovering,” Maria voice filters to my ears, her accent thickening with every word. “Miss Vera, por favor, let her rest. This can wait.”Vera’s clutching a sleek tablet to her chest. “You don’t understand. These are direct orders. She has to know. Now. Before it gets any worse.” “What’s going on?” My voice cuts through the tension, hoarse but unyielding.Both women freeze, caught mid-conspiracy.Maria’s face is pure concern with her eyes darting to Vera, who looks like she’s about to bolt.For a moment, neither speaks as the silence stretches.“Nothing for you to worry about, mi niña,” Maria finally b

ELISEMy bodyguards maintain their formation as I stride down the center aisle.The crowd parts before us, some reporters stumbling backward in their haste to avoid the advancing wall of muscle and menace.The auditorium is larger than it appeared from outside. Tiered seating rises toward the back, every level packed with journalists, photographers, and camera operators. The air conditioning struggles against the heat generated by so many bodies and electronic equipment, creating an oppressive atmosphere thick with anticipation and barely contained aggression.The hungry vultures seem thrown off for a beat. My composed entrance clearly not matching whatever broken, desperate woman they expected to see.I can feel their confusion ripple through the crowd like a physical force. Some lean forward in their seats, squinting as if trying to reconcile the poised figure before them with the narrative they've been fed.But predators adapt quickly. The moment of uncertainty passes, and their sen

NATASHAThe sound of Dad's fist connecting with the massive TV screen makes me jump so hard I nearly fall off the couch.Glass explodes everywhere, skittering across our pristine marble floor like deadly confetti.“DAMN THAT DEVILS SPAWN!" Dad's voice cracks as he screams with his face this awful shade of purple I've never seen before.Veins bulge in his forehead, and for a terrifying second I think he might have a heart attack right here in our living room."DAMN THAT LITTLE WHORE!"He kicks at the broken glass, sending pieces flying across the room.One shard cuts his hand, but he doesn't even notice the blood dripping on our floor. He's completely lost it.But even with the TV destroyed, I can still see her face burned into my brain.Elise.Standing at that podium like she's some kind of fucking queen while destroying my entire life with every word that came out of her mouth.And worse is that the reporters hung on every word like the gospel.My hands won't stop shaking as I stare