Getting Real Emma Chase Novels & Stories

She hated how the mention of Emmah’s name could bring such life and urgency into my eyes. Meanwhile, I was already making calls. First to my personal assistant, then to the investigator I had tasked to follow Emmah’s convoy days ago. “I need a location,” I barked into the phone, pacing outside the ICU. “Where did they take her? Find her. Now.” Within the hour, my phone rang. A video call. “Sir, I tracked the convoy,” the investigator said. “They entered a high security estate in another state entirely. After cross checking the license plates and estate registry... It belongs to the Williamsons.”

On the day of the tasting, all eyes were on us. "Did the Tea Prodigy Fall From Grace? Can the Banished True Heiress Turn the Tide?" Even before it began, the live stream had already shot to the top of trending charts across every platform. I walked into the White residence's tasting room in a simple black dress. Everything there looked the same as before. Mr. and Mrs. White stood at the entrance, forced smiles plastered on their faces. "Juliana, you're here."

He continued calmly, "It seems the possessed corpse you encountered is quite powerful. She wouldn't have been able to injure you so badly that the undead poison entered your system, otherwise." I was silent for a moment before asking again, "Can you get rid of her for good?" He finally looked up at me, a sharp glint flashing in his amber eyes. "Yes." The next morning, I was jolted awake by a torrent of frantic knocks on my door. When I opened it, Tristan was kneeling on the doorstep, his face covered in blood, and his suit torn to shreds. He was shaking all over. "Ella! Save me!" he begged in a hoarse voice as he grabbed my pant leg. "She came back! She killed all of them!"

But it was from my father’s company—the quality was excellent. I let out a quiet sigh and tried to explain one last time. “First, the watch is mine. “Second, you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The real heiress is probably still out there somewhere, waiting for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a frail girl in a server’s uniform standing in the corner of the banquet hall, watching in fear. Her features bore a strong resemblance to the matriarch of the Lawson family, Jasmine Ross, at least seventy or eighty percent.

"Oh wait— says here, he's engaged. How come I didn't get wind of this?" "You’re not exactly the type who fights to read the business papers in the morning, hun." His jaw dropped. "She's gorgeous!" I immediately turned the screen to me. Vincentio’s fiance looked like if Snow White was a real person, only with long black hair, designer clothes, and instead of being surrounded by dwarves, was accompanied by giant bodyguards. "'Lysa Hearst, the heiress to the clothing giant, refused to comment on her fiance's disappearance.' Hmmm, now that's suspicious.” Andrew scrolled through the page. “There is no more news about their engagement."

She picked up a small knife and started cutting the apple bit by bit. As the TV series was playing in the background, the channel was suddenly changed and a female newscaster began to speak. Emily slowly raised her eyes. The people behind the screen of the newscasters looked very familiar. Jackson! As well as Amelia, standing beside him with a smile and waving their hands to the crowd around them. Rage started building up inside her. Her hands started to fist, and slowly her grip on the knife wasn’t tender anymore. “Breaking news!!: After the death of Emily Greenfield the heir to Image corpse and other of their enterprises, Jackson Timberlake takes over.” The newscaster said and Emily bit he

“She’s still at the wellness center. The girl—Emma—checked out fine. Walked home alone. But she’s been making calls.” “Who?” Rhett asked. Darcar hesitated. “We don’t know .” Rhett’s jaw flexed. “Keep digging.” Darcar nodded, but then added carefully, “You sure you don’t want me to step in, boss? This girl, she’s trouble. And if she gets too close to your Lady…” “She won’t,” Rhett cut him off, his voice low. “I’ll kill her first .” He pulled out his phone again, opening the photo. The one of Emma’s fake fall.

With the reckless abandon he threw things about, not to mention the very monotony of the indoor decor, I knew it was his. “Lily.” Emma, grunted, sitting up. First she blinked, then her tired eyes snapped open. She looked at me in disbelief, and the looked back at the house.. “This has to be a dream.” Emma muttered. “What the fuck are we doing in Chase's house?!” She screamed. “He was supposed to take us home after you passed out,” I tried explaining. Emma forced herself up from the seat and was already packing her things ready to tear the door open when Chase resurfaced, with his hands up in the air.

The fake heiress was dead. My biological parents believed I was responsible. Together, they reported me to the authorities and demanded that my memories be extracted. After watching my memories, everyone broke down in tears. But I smiled. This was exactly what I wanted. To become the perfect victim.

The photograph was the same young woman. My grandmother. The real Garcia. The live comments erupted. “So THAT is the real Garcia? Then who’s the woman next to him?” “The letters say it plainly. And he just said he ‘rejected’ her. Lying without batting an eye.” “So the real Garcia was abandoned in the rural West. Who is this fake Garcia? This is insane.” Daniel Harrington’s lips pressed into a thin line. He gripped the table. His fingertips were white. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.