All Chapters of The Heiress Returns: Reclaiming My Legacy: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Chapter 141Hannah’s POVThe sound of the gunshot still echoed in my head long after the ringing in my ears had faded. For a moment, I thought everything had stopped — the world, my breath, even my heartbeat. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain, waiting for the cold nothingness that I thought came after death.But it never came.My body was trembling, and every muscle in me screamed from fear and exhaustion. I forced my eyes open, blinking rapidly, expecting darkness — heaven, hell, something. But instead, I saw the same dim, smoke-filled warehouse, the same flickering fluorescent light that swung weakly from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across the floor.I was still here and still breathing.My eyes darted to my right — and that’s when I saw Jack. He was sprawled on the cold concrete floor, blood spreading fast beneath him like spilled ink.“Oh my God…” The words fell from my lips before I even realized I’d spoken. My throat was dry, voice cracking. “Jack!”I screame

Chapter 143 Lucas' POV "No," I said quickly, wiping at my face before she could say anything else. My movements were jerky, almost aggressive, as I swiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand. "Of course not. I just had… something in my eyes." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn't help it. Years of conditioning, of being taught that emotion was weakness, of watching my father maintain his iron composure through every crisis, it all came rushing back. Even now, with Hannah safe in my arms, some part of me couldn't admit the truth. Damon, standing a few feet away near one of the patrol cars, raised a brow and crossed his arms. The corner of his mouth twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "He was crying," he said flatly, his voice carrying easily across the space between us. I turned to glare at him, heat flooding my face. "I was not crying," I shot back, my tone more defensive than I'd intended. My grip on Hannah tightened protectively, as if that would somehow s

Chapter 145 Lily's POV The night was silent except for the sound of my own shallow breathing and the distant hum of traffic on the highway. My fingers trembled as I pressed the phone to my ear, pacing the length of the dimly lit motel room in agitated strides. My reflection stared back at me from the cracked mirror hanging above the dresser — hair tangled and wild, mascara smeared in dark streaks down my cheeks, and eyes swollen and red from hours of crying. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't the plan. It was over. Everything I had built, every carefully crafted plan, every thread I'd pulled with such precision — all has failed When Ray finally picked up after what felt like an eternity of ringing, I could barely speak through the sobs that wracked my body. "Ray… everything's ruined," I choked out, my voice breaking on every syllable. "You have no idea what I've lost. It wasn't supposed to end like this!" My free hand clutched at my chest, trying to contain the

Chapter 147 Piper's POV "Hi is just too weird to say," I said, smiling sheepishly, trying to break the tension that had settled over us. "I'm sorry, just don't know what to say," he admitted, avoiding my eyes as his gaze fixed somewhere on the vending machine, as if the selection of stale chips and candy bars was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. The air between us started to loosen, little by little, like ice slowly melting under warm sunlight. Damon was still standing awkwardly at first, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, like he wasn't sure if he should sit down or bolt for the exit. His posture screamed discomfort, and I almost felt sorry for him. But eventually, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate playing out across his features, he took the seat next to me, keeping just enough distance to seem polite, though not enough to feel far away. The space between us on the uncomfortable plastic chairs was maybe six inche

Chapter 149 Lucas’ POVI’d never thought of myself as the kind of man who’d spend two hours debating between white lilies and red roses. Yet here I was, standing in the middle of Bristo Enterprise’s private kitchen, staring down at bouquets like they were company contracts that could make or break my future. The chef was a tall, gentle man with a thick French accent, explaining the menu for the fifth time, but all I could think about was Hannah’s smile. “I want it perfect,” I said absently, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Not too formal. She doesn’t like formal. But elegant enough to feel… special.” “Special, but not formal,” he repeated with a small smirk. “Monsieur Bristo, that’s what every man says before he falls completely in love.” I gave him a sideways look. “You’re being paid to cook, not to psychoanalyze me.” He only grinned and went back to arranging the plates, humming to himself as if he’d already figured me out. The rooftop of Bristo Enterprise had always been my qu