บททั้งหมดของ After Driving Away the Fake Heiress, The Family Went Bankrupt: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Isabella was still laughing with the card in her hand, drifting closer to dangle it in my face."Thanks, sis. I'll make sure to enjoy being a Connolly heiress on your behalf."Laugh while you can. I didn't even bother to look up, just kept watching the stock price fall.Isabella hooked her arm through Margaret's and turned, a sudden flush spreading across her cheeks, eyes full of barely-contained excitement."Mom, I came back today to see you and Dad, but I also have the most incredible news."She glanced toward the bedroom door. The half-open door swung wide from outside, and Corey Harrison walked in with his arms full of red roses.He was my fiancé. We'd been together for three years, and our wedding was two months away.The moment I saw him, something in me unclenched. He was here to help.I took a step forward without thinking.He walked straight past me and pressed the roses into Isabella's arms. Ninety-nine of them, the exact same count he'd used when he confessed to me three yea

A beat-up pickup rattled down a potholed dirt road. Every bump sent the back of my head cracking against the window frame.My biological father was in the passenger seat, counting a stack of bills he'd shaken out of a crumpled envelope. Slow and methodical. Thirty thousand dollars.I was tied up in the back seat, blood from my wrists dripping onto the seat cover. I didn't flinch. I just stared at the back of those two heads.My biological mother must have felt it, because she spun around. The second her eyes met mine, guilt flickered across her face, gone in an instant and replaced by aggression. She reached across and slapped me, the crack of it filling the car."What are you looking at?! When you get to Crawford's place, I'm locking you up first to keep you from making trouble for yourself."I had a rag in my mouth and couldn't answer. My face burned, but it was nothing next to my wrists.Back at the Connolly estate.Isabella was stepping into my walk-in closet, flipping through rows

The truck was still moving. My biological mother had her legs crossed, chatting at my biological father about her plans for my future."When we get there, lock her in the basement for three days. No food, no water. She doesn't start calling us Mom and Dad, she doesn't come out. If she cooperates, she marries. If she doesn't, we beat her until she does."I sat against the back seat and said nothing. I was waiting.A deafening roar split the sky above. Three heavy-duty helicopters swept in low, their rotors sending a wall of wind slamming into the truck. The vehicle rocked sideways, and my biological father grabbed the wheel and screamed, pumping the brakes.Too late.A dozen black armored SUVs burst in from every direction. The first one's bumper hit the pickup's front left wheel at sixty miles an hour, and the sound of twisting metal tore through everything. The truck lurched sideways two meters, sending both people in the front slamming their heads into the windshield.My biological m

The lawyers arrived faster than I'd expected. Eight of them, all in black, briefcases snapping open in unison down the length of the dining table.Dad dropped the divorce agreement in front of Margaret. "Sign."One word.Margaret forced herself up onto one elbow, squinting through the swelling, her eyes having nearly swollen shut, and scanned the document. Nothing. She kept nothing. All real estate stripped, all shares revoked, every claim on Connolly Group assets in any form permanently severed.She bit down on her bloody lip and shook her head. "I won't... Raymond... twenty years... you can't do this to me..."Dad settled into the couch, legs crossed, voice flat. "Fine. Don't sign. There are a hundred and twenty-seven security cameras in this estate. I'll have someone pull a copy of the footage and send it to the FBI tonight. Kidnapping. Unlawful restraint. Aggravated assault. That's fifteen to twenty years minimum." He counted on his fingers. "You're forty-six now. Sixty-six when yo

I was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor of the Connolly Group headquarters. Sixty-eighth floor. The entire New York skyline lay beneath me, thousands of pinprick lights scattered across the dark like a board game someone had knocked over, and I was the only one who knew how to put it back.Dad walked over with a mug of warm milk and set it beside me. "Still hot. Wait a couple minutes." His voice was careful, the way you'd talk to someone fragile, which was ridiculous given that this was the man who'd spent decades crushing competitors, and yet here he was, tiptoeing.I lifted my right hand and looked at my wrist. The wound had healed completely. The new skin was soft and pale pink, with a faint scar ring remaining around the edge. Dad had mentioned laser treatments to remove it, and I'd said no. Leave it. It reminded me who was worth trusting and who wasn't, and that mattered."Did you read the CFO's report?" Dad asked, eyes on the massive display wall behind us