All Chapters of The Disowned Heiress : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Jack never scheduled meetings the usual way anymore. No assistants. No official invitations. Just quiet calls made late in the evening, numbers dialed from a separate phone, locations chosen for privacy rather than prestige.The first meeting took place in a private dining room at an old members-only club overlooking the river. The kind of place where deals were sealed with handshakes long before contracts ever existed. Mr. Kessler, one of Hurst Corp’s earliest foreign investors, sat stiffly across from Jack, fingers wrapped around a glass he hadn’t touched.“You’ve always been loyal to the Hursts,” Jack said calmly, as if stating a neutral fact. “That loyalty has paid you well.”Kessler’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to insult me or recruit me?”Jack smiled faintly. “Neither. I’m here to future-proof you.”He slid a slim folder across the table. Inside were projections, early-access portfolios, protected margins that insulated against market volatility. Numbers that made even discip

The metal counter was cold beneath Bella's forearms as she leaned forward, watching the guard sort through her belongings with exaggerated slowness. Each item was lifted, inspected with theatrical indifference, then dropped into a small, worn sack like it meant nothing. Like it hadn't once been hers.The gown came first. Thin. Faded. The same one she had been wearing the day she was dragged through those gates years ago, wrists bruised, mouth still tasting of disbelief and rage. She stared at it longer than she should have. It felt heavier now, soaked with time and bitterness.Next came the jewelry. A bracelet missing a stone. A pair of earrings she barely remembered owning. A ring that still caught the fluorescent light stubbornly, as though it refused to dim itself just because she had been caged.The guard pushed the sack toward her with two fingers, his expression blank."That's all," he said lazily.Bella took it without thanking him. She straightened slowly, her spine stiff f

The parking lot was almost empty, the kind of place people passed without looking twice. One flickering streetlight cast long shadows across cracked asphalt, and the hum of distant traffic blended with the night air. Julia chose it deliberately. No cameras she hadn’t already mapped. No familiar routes. No patterns that could be traced later.Her car was parked slightly away from the others, engine off, lights dark. When the two figures approached, she stepped out, locking the door behind her with a soft click. They hesitated when they saw her, nerves written plainly on their faces.“You’re sure no one followed you?” Julia asked, her voice calm, measured.“Yes,” the first one said quickly, then corrected himself. “I mean… I don’t think so.”That answer alone told her how shaken they were.They were both younger than she remembered from university days, thinner too, as if stress had been feeding on them. One kept rubbing his palms together, the other scanned the shadows every few sec

Bosco returned home long after midnight, the door clicking shut behind him with a softness that did not match the storm inside his chest. He dropped his keys on the console table and stood there for a moment longer than necessary, shoulders tense, jaw tight, listening to the quiet of the house as if it might betray him. The lights were dim. The air felt heavy. Even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.He loosened his jacket but didn’t take it off. His eyes kept drifting to the window, then to the hallway mirror, then back again, as if expecting movement where there was none.Elliot was sitting in the living room, laptop closed, sleeves rolled up. He had been waiting. He always knew. Something about Bosco’s footsteps, the way they dragged slightly when things were wrong, had always given him away.“You’re late,” Elliot said quietly.Bosco nodded once. “Yeah.”He moved toward the kitchen, but Elliot’s gaze followed him, sharp and assessing. The silence stretched. Bosco poure

Julia parked farther away than necessary, stepping out of the car with the quiet deliberateness of someone who did not want attention but was prepared for it anyway. The NovaCorp warehouse sat at the edge of the industrial district, its steel body stretching wide and low, painted in clean corporate colors that suggested order, innovation, harmless productivity. On paper, it was just another logistics extension for a tech company. In reality, it felt wrong the moment Julia stepped onto the concrete.The air smelled heavier here. Not oil or rust. Something else. Something lived-in.She walked slowly, heels clicking softly against the ground, eyes scanning details she had trained herself not to ignore. Trucks lined the loading bay, engines off, drivers nowhere in sight. At first glance, they looked legitimate. NovaCorp logos stamped boldly on the sides, the same blue-and-silver palette repeated with mechanical precision. But Julia’s gaze lingered.These were not tech delivery trucks.