Comeback Of The Adored Heiress Novel Novels & Stories

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental. Cover Art by Shannon Nemechek Marie Lavender © 2013, second edition published 2020, third edition published 2022. GoodNovel edition published 2025. Upon Your Return Book One of the Heiresses in Love Series Marie Lavender Dedication To the one I love – without you, this book might still be a work in progress. I will always be thankful for the chain of events that brought us together. Fate often guides two soul mates in the right direction to find each other.

She looked every bit the part of a patient, sweet, loving family friend, when in fact, she was seething. Ross was hers. He had always been hers. And now some orphaned nobody was clawing her way into his heart, into Eliana’s good graces, into everything that should have been hers. She was supposed to be his undisputed bride, they had been childhood lovers and it was supposed to continue into a smooth marriage. Emma was just a ghost from the ocean. A mystery girl with no history, no family, no worth. She had done her findings and she had realized they found her in the sea like trash.

I laughed so hard the composure I was building – of a high class woman – chartered, throwing back to Adele Ford, the simple resort owner surrounded by lovers of croissants, plus a dark erotic novel lover. I missed those days. God, I couldn't wait for this ‘honeymoon’ phase to be over so I could return to Greenville. “Hey, don't come back here empty handed. Buy as many spicy, dark, hot male lead novels as much as the capital’s bookshops hold! Also, I want spicy gist too. Create as much drama as your thick skin allows! Don't let those rich motherfuckers walk all over you, you're bigger than them now, squash them under your heels if you must!”

" He said and walked away hastily, leaving me to regret my outburst. Why did I have to say that? It was none of my business. *** It was time for the party, and I stared at my dress laying on the bed. A black corset gown, embroidered with pearls. It felt odd. Dressing up after all that time. It wasn't for him. I wasn't dressing up for Zayn. I tried hard to convince myself that I wasn't. He got me the dress and suggested the whole dating and party thing. I was just playing along, right? "It isn't real, Cielle... This is all a game, a plot to get back what was taken away from you." I muttered to myself as I took off my bathrobe.

He didn't look homeless, and one can tell from one glance that he is well-read. The truth is I was not finding any of his questions funny as I felt miserable and pained from all the embarrassment I had earlier encountered. I pulled down my shirt for him to see out of annoyance. “Here it is sir, it is a fucking birthmark and I hate it, I will gladly give you if you want it," I said in frustration. “I'm so sorry to bother you my lady, but I happen to come from London, and this mark of yours is a mark that is mostly associated with the royal family, I think if that mark is real, that you may be a princess,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.

The cool breeze from the car window sent her long black hair flying and it felt so good. It had been two good years she went out of California, and coming back home felt like heaven. That was the only thing she could think of; coming back home. She had no where else to go and she didn’t want to keep seeing the son of a bitch who broke her heart. After about an hour, the car arrived in front of a white mansion, guarded by a big gate. She exited the car and didn’t forget to pick her luggage from the boot. When the car was out of sight, she turned to the building, staring at it with mixed feelings.

All eyes turned as Marcelline entered. There was a collective pause. Whispers rippled across the room. For years, these men and women had seen her in the shadows of Rowan Adair, the dutiful wife at gala dinners, never more than a quiet ornament at his side. Now she entered not as Rowan’s appendage, but as Marcelline Odette, heiress of Odette Global Holdings. Her suit was tailored ivory silk, crisp against her luminous skin. Minimal jewelry, understated yet commanding. She carried herself with a serenity that dared anyone to dismiss her.

She stayed there, frozen, for a heartbeat. And then, just as I was about to pull back, thinking she'd reject me, she kissed me back. It was hesitant at first, her lips moving cautiously against mine, as if she wasn't sure if she should be doing this. But the moment she responded, I deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. The taste of her was intoxicating—warm, soft, and forbidden. Her fingers tightened in my shirt, pulling me even closer as she kissed me with a fire I hadn't seen in her before. And God, it was hot. Her reluctance melted into something fierce.

My mind kept returning to Adriana, to the burns on her chest, to the way she'd looked at me when I asked where she'd been—like she was calculating something, weighing options I couldn't see. My phone rang. Kieran. "Have you heard?" he said before I could even say hello. "The Salvadore heiress is back. Everyone's losing their minds trying to figure out how to get to her." "I heard." "This could be incredible for us if we play it right. We should throw a party, something exclusive. Maybe she'll come, and we can make an impression." "Maybe," I said absently. "You okay, man? You sound distracted." "Just busy."

"Knew from the start you had that noble vibe—you were born for this life!" Watching old classmates, acquaintances—even some who used to brush her off—now falling over themselves to flatter her in the comments, Rachel's ego was riding high. But soon, something more twisted crept in. These online praises weren't enough. She craved more. She needed to see, face to face, just how miserable that fake heiress Clara Howard really was now. She needed to show Clara who the real queen was—and who was just a pathetic copy, barely clinging to the ashes of her old life.