All Chapters of The Stripping Heiress : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

I told Kiara I was staying in for the day. I wanted to ask her about Craig’s texts, but the words stuck in my throat. What if it wasn’t just texting? The thought dug into my mind like a thorn. What if she had seen him? What if Craig had talked her into sneaking onto the estate somehow?I shook the thought away. No one just sneaks onto the estate. Security here was too tight for that. And if Craig had been anywhere near last night’s shooting, Willams would have told me. Craig would have been the first suspect.Still, the thought wouldn’t leave me. If something happened to me, there was a real chance that everything—money, name, foundation—would pass to my closest relatives. That meant Kiara. And my stepfather.“Are you sick?” Kiara asked suddenly. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand against my forehead.She looked perfect as always. She had on her new purple boots and a long black dress with lacy sleeves. She looked like she was going somewhere important.A wave of dread r

I knew Willams had heard every single word of my fight with Kiara. He had been standing close enough to catch every syllable. But I was also certain he wouldn’t comment. He never did.“I’m still looking for the Davenport,” I said sharply. I needed a distraction. Before, the search had been something to do. Now it was a necessity. My chest still felt tight from what I’d said to Kiara—and what she hadn’t said to me.Without her, the thought of wandering through this mansion felt heavier, like each step echoed too loudly. We’d already checked George Lachlan’s office. Where else could someone hide a Davenport desk?I focused on that question, not my sister. Not her phone. Not Craig. Not Richard.“I’ve heard,” I said after a long pause, “that this house has more than one library.” I looked at Williams. “Do you know where they are?”He didn’t answer right away, but two hours later, I found myself standing in library number five.It was on the second floor, with a slanted ceiling and walls c

Williams went up first. I waited below, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint scrape of his boots against the pole. When he came back down—sliding instead of climbing—he landed in front of me with the grace of someone who’d done this before.“The room’s clear,” he told me. His eyes flicked toward my side, where the wound still ached. “But if you try to climb, you might pull a stitch.”He’d said it out loud, in front of Luca. That wasn’t careless. That was deliberate.Luca leaned in like a shark catching the scent of blood. “What injury?”“Someone shot at Hailey,” Williams said carefully, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut. Then he tilted his head. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, Luca?”The hallway went still.Luca’s jaw flexed, and for the first time, he looked dangerous in a way that wasn’t just show. His words came low and cold. “If I did, it would already be handled.”“Luca.” Williams gave him a warning look. The kind that meant stay out of this. Bu

We found a dress.The paparazzi didn’t make it easy. Their cameras flashed like strobe lights as Williams pushed us back into the SUV. Shouts followed us down the street. Questions, wild guesses, accusations—all of it blurred together into noise.Inside, the doors slammed shut. Silence fell, broken only by the hum of the engine. Williams checked the rearview mirror. “Seat belts buckled?”Mine was already locked tight across my chest. Beside me, Linda clipped hers in place with a neat click. She smoothed her hair as if nothing outside had happened, then turned to me with a faint smile.“Have you thought about hair and makeup yet?”“Constantly,” I said, my voice dry as dust. “It’s the only thing I think about these days. A girl has to keep her priorities straight.”Linda’s smile sharpened. “And here I thought all your priorities had the last name Lachlan.”“That’s not true,” I shot back quickly.But the words rang hollow. Because wasn’t it? How many hours had I spent thinking about Marc

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