All Chapters of THE SWITCHED HEIRESS : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the smell of it still clung to the glass walls of the Castell mansion. The house looked immaculate, as always, too quiet, too symmetrical, too alive with silence. Hazel sat behind Edwin’s old desk, her fingers resting on the leather blotter where his handwriting used to cover entire pages. She wasn’t reading. The documents before her —vendor contracts, gala budgets, and sponsorship notes —were excuses to look busy in a life that had begun to feel like a theater.The clock ticked once. Then again.Each second scraped against her patience.Her pen rolled off the desk, hitting the marble floor with a clean, unforgiving sound. Hazel bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, she caught her reflection in the glass cabinet ahead: white blouse, diamond buttons, hair pulled so neatly it could have been sculpted.The woman in the reflection was perfect.And utterly hollow.She exhaled slowly. “Another day,”

Morning came softly to the Castell mansion, seeping through the sheer curtains like gold diluted in water. The house was unnaturally still, no reporters, no board members, no murmuring staff, only the occasional click of shoes on marble floors. For once, Hazel wasn’t scheduled to be anywhere. Her calendar was mercifully blank.She sat at the breakfast table in a robe of pale silk, unmoving, her spoon resting in untouched tea. Across from her, Mia was sprawled in a chair wearing one of Hazel’s oversized shirts, a messy bun perched like a crown of rebellion. Her phone buzzed with messages she ignored.“So,” Mia said finally, stretching lazily. “That dinner last night? I felt like I’d wandered into a Dior campaign directed by a funeral planner.”Hazel blinked, startled into a small laugh. “That’s not far off.” The silence that followed was sharp, almost delicate. Hazel’s gaze stayed on the tea, but something in her shoulders changed, less slumped, more alert. Mia could tell she’d hi

Morning light slanted through the glass walls of Castell Mansion, cutting through the quiet like precision. Hazel stood before the window, the London skyline reflected in her coffee. She watched the city pulse, alive, merciless, pretending to be kind.Mia sprawled on the velvet sofa, a half-eaten croissant in one hand and a tablet in the other. “She took the bait,” she announced. “Clara Voss posted about being ‘honored to attend the Castell Foundation Luncheon.’ Hashtag blessed. Hashtag ambition. Hashtag delusion.”Hazel didn’t turn. “Good. Make sure the press hears she’s joining as our special guest.”“Already handled.” Mia scrolled, smirking. “You’re trending, by the way. ‘Hazel Castell: England’s Coldest Diamond.’ A compliment, I assume.”Hazel’s lips curved faintly. “People only name what they can’t touch.”Mia chuckled. “God, you really are scary when you’re calm.”By noon, the Castell estate had transformed into a fiel

The house was still when he returned.The sort of stillness that didn’t come from sleep, but from something more deliberate, something curated. Dimitri paused by the door, letting the silence greet him like a judgment. He could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the slow drip of rain outside, the sound of his own heartbeat.He adjusted his tie even though he hadn’t worn it. He still smelled faintly of Valentina’s perfume, something floral and commanding, the kind that lingered. He knew he should have showered before coming back, but he’d wanted to get home before dawn. Some irrational part of him didn’t want Hazel to wake and notice his absence.When he reached their bedroom, the light was still on.Hazel sat before the mirror, hair loose, a silk robe tied carelessly around her waist. The reflection of her eyes met his in the mirror before she spoke.“You’re late,” she said, evenly.He forced a smile. “Meetings ran over

The mirror caught her every movement.Hazel stood before it in the amber glow of the study, her reflection as composed as marble, chin high, hair sleek, the pearl pins at her temples glinting like small lies. Outside, rain pressed against the glass, soft but insistent, the kind that made the whole world sound like it was holding its breath.“From the top,” she murmured.Her voice filled the room, low, calm, deliberate. She practiced not just words, but pauses, eye contact, the controlled grace that made her seem untouchable.“To those who stand for truth… to those who build legacies on loyalty and love..”“don’t tilt your head there,” came Dimitri’s voice from behind her. “It makes you look… defensive.”Hazel’s gaze flicked to his reflection. He was lounging on the velvet sofa like an art critic, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled, that smile he used in rooms full of cameras. Admiration disguised as advice.He rose, slow and unhurried, walking toward her.“Like this,” he said, steppin