Glamorous Heiress Novels & Stories

I felt like a new being, the usual cold breeze now turned hot on my skin. “Silver!” a familiar voice called. This could only be one person. I darted my eyes to confirm my doubts. It was Amelia. Of course, she was. Wrapped in a golden-colored gown that fitted her curvy frame, her golden hair pinned like a crown around her cruel, perfect face. She was her mother’s favorite. The pack’s pride. The heir to everything I had never been allowed to dream of. “I am sorry for keeping you waiting.” “Still alive?” she said, sipping from the silver tea cup she was holding, as if it offended her that I still drew breathe.

A high strung, dark haired beauty with haughty eyes, a kimono, and a god complex. Allera is a startling contrast. Not at all what I expected, but fuck me if she isn't better. Golden hair, eyes that spit fire, a carefully curated mask that I can see right through. Glenda Hale led me to believe that her heiress of a granddaughter was calm, respectful, obedient. Her age must be getting to her eyes, because Allera is nothing like that. She's a storm in a bottle. But of course, the apple of Kazuo's eye will not be a calm woman.

Five years later The glass walls of the Hale Group’s London headquarters overlooked the beautiful scenery of Thames river, but the view was nothing compared to the woman sitting at the head of the table in all her glory. Five years had passed, and the soft spoken and gentle woman who was once labelled as the poor orphan and scholarship girl, had been forged into an iron queen. She was no longer the woman waiting for anyone's approval anymore. She was back as the Billionaire Hale heiress, the ice queen, Elara Hale.

he said, his voice short. I opened the folder, and then came her photo — her silver dress, her posture. A strange feeling twisted in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. She wasn’t merely the desperate woman I’d sat down beside in my car, fleeing from abductors in her ripped gown. She was the Clawford heiress. Her brazen gala invitation to dinner — direct and without the usual scheming attached — stuck in my brain. The majority of women who came to me were wanting something—money, influence, a hold in my world. That greed wasn't in Valenticia’s eyes.

With a gentle touch on the arm and a soft whisper in the ear, she welcomed the crème de la crème of society to her home. Meanwhile, Amelia made her way to the area where her age group had gathered, a cluster of young heirs and heiress who were eager to make connections and forge alliances. Tasha, the vivacious heiress to the Harrison family fortune, was already there, sipping champagne and laughing with a group of admirers. Amelia's eyes sparkled as she joined the group, her designer dress and statement heels drawing admiring glances.

Her dress changed, her jewelry shimmered but the air around her never softened. It was deliberate, chosen. She had crafted her presence with surgical precision: a woman dripping in mystery, with high cheekbones and higher standards. Her back straight, her legs crossed, her glass always half full as if to suggest she was never waiting for a refill… never waiting for anyone, she was known only as Marcella now. Marcella DeRossi, orphaned heiress, old money, cold beauty. A ghost of a family legacy tied to estates in Naples and whispers in Monaco. She played the part like it was written in her blood. Men stared, some talked but none dared to come close.

In the large mansion, the masters were outnumbered by the helpers. It was crazy for Danie because she didn't need them at all. At least, just a few would do. It wasn't like many people knew that she was the only heiress to the massive wealth of the Williams. She could walk alone at night and no one would guess that she's a billionaire. But for sure she'd turn heads. Danielle was beautiful. She had always been told how perfect she looked. Her skin alone uses the most expensive set of skin care. Her hair was glowing. Everything that every girl could dream of was within her reach.

In her hand was a pouch that felt as if it burned in her hands. As she walked through the streets she could not help looking at it and looking at the people around her. What were their opinions on the dying imperial family? How would they react if they found out that she, a simple girl of sixteen, was the heir to this vast empire? Would they hate her? Would they love her? And her only proof was a letter and a necklace. Well at least for the moment. She finally reached Hector's home after what seemed to be the longest walk of her entire life. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A slave opened it.

Eynas assisted his queen in her seat. Astra put her face to his face. She looked at him and smiled. "I'm fine" she mumbled and turned her redhead in front of her broods. "Let's welcome, the first heiress of the Erasmus Kingdom!" She growls. "And I declare war among dragons and humans! We will restore our dragon power, the Heart of Magic from them! Scream for me! Scream!" Astra made an extreme growl and all of them made a rumbling sound.