Heiress Novels & Stories

He asked, looking at me from head to toe and focusing on the neckline of my blouse, making me roll my eyes. I move closer to him, glaring at him. "I am the Montanari heiress, this chair is mine!" I speak a little lower, but firm and serious. "And I am your future husband and I would have to take over the company". Seriously spoken. "But don't worry, I can make you secretary. You'll be great to work with". Speaks mischievously, licking his lips as he looks down at my cleavage again. I roll my eyes and walk over to his side, controlling myself so I don't end up committing murder.

he cut in rashly and she kept silent. “Daren stole you away from me when he knew you were my only daughter. You are my heiress. The heiress of all her mother’s possessions. Your mother and I worked hard to keep a lot in store for you. A lot which would see you become one of the wealthiest women in the whole of the country. The estates she left behind in SA are there waiting for you. The hotels and so many more to mention are all there waiting for you. But you left everything and ran after a man who threw you in the mud at last.

For three seconds there was silence in the auditorium. Then the room erupted. The reporters were typing furiously on their tablets. The condescension in the room was gone. Now people were scared. They realized that the heiress in overalls was not a figurehead. She was the architect. Silas looked down at Avery. He had a smile on his face. He was proud of her. He reached out under the cover of the podium. His hand gripped hers. They had officially left the yards. The crown was hers. The board belonged entirely to Avery and Silas.

Heiress. The word slid into place like a key in a lock. Heiress. The media had called me an heiress. Not just Blake’s empire. Not just his name on buildings and glossy magazines. Cassie Huntington brought something to the table too. Old money. Dead parents. Trust funds. Investments maybe. My own war chest. Assets. Power. What was I worth? Was it enough to destroy Richard, and by extension, Gemma? I settled back against the pillows. I needed information, and Blake was standing right here.

There was movement, something large and terrible descending through the hole in our roof, and my mother's hand tore away from mine as she was lifted up and away from me. I fell backward down the stairs, my body tumbling end over end, connecting with wood and stone in a chaos of pain. When I finally stopped moving, I was sprawled on the ground floor, gasping for breath, every part of me screaming in agony. Above me, I could hear my mother screaming. I could hear my stepfather's voice, shouting something that might have been a curse or a prayer. And beneath it all, I could hear the sound of the creatures—not their voices, but something worse. A kind of psychic pressure, as if their very presen

I stared at it for three seconds. "Take it all down," I said to my assistant. Everything. In 20 minutes, the office was bare. White walls. The desk, chairs everything was taken out. I wanted to change it into something that was more fitting for a battlefield. Because the line was just drawn and many people were waiting to see what this real heiress that just bought over her father's company was capable of. I called Sophia. "Mom, send me the Paris office designer. Now." By 1 PM, the office was black and white. Glass desk. No family photos. Just one map Weston Enterprises branches, all the ones I now owned. And a whiteboard with one line:

**ADRIAN** Adrian stood at the back of the ballroom, his champagne glass frozen halfway to his mouth. Heiress. The word kept repeating in his head. Heiress to the Ashford legacy. Not just some distant family member. Not just the daughter of a wealthy businessman. The heiress. The entire Ashford empire. Hotels. Resorts. Real estate. Investments spanning the entire country. And Kira was at the center of it all. Adrian’s hand tightened around his glass.

It was the Brooks family’s 25th anniversary. The house was full of guests. Music played softly, people laughed, and waiters moved through the room with trays. Nina sat at the corner of the ballroom, her glass of wine untouched, her eyes flicking toward the entrance every few seconds. Tonight wasn’t just any celebration—it was her chance to finally introduce Joseph Brown, heir to the prestigious Brown International Conglomerate, to her family. They had been dating for a year and tonight was the night she wanted to take a step ahead of Clara to meet the Brooks family’s other rule: whoever becomes heiress must also prove she can make a strong marriage into a resp

--- She thought often about what it meant to be an heir. Not just of land—though the documents were finally settled, the valley legally hers, passed down from Tata Pedro to his grandchildren and their children after them. But of something deeper. A way of seeing the world. A stubborn, unshakeable belief that the land could heal if people gave it a chance. Tata Pedro had not left her money or property or stocks. He had left her a mission. And she had carried it forward, not because she was special, but because she had refused to let it go.

Prescott's search for a suitable heiress, and I was the chosen one. I puzzled over Mrs. Prescott's intentions, my mind racing with questions. "But how can I be heiress when I'm not directly related to her?" I asked "I'm only carrying her grandson's child. Why does she want me to be heiress and take over? Is that even possible?" "It's not about blood ties," he explained. "Mrs. Prescott's obsession with having an heiress stems from her desire for control and legacy. She believes a female successor will ensure the Prescott family's empire endures."