Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress Novels & Stories

“She gave you to a woman who did.” My mother had not stolen a Hart heir from Adrian’s nursery. She had taken a surplus infant from a midwife’s ledger, the one child with no claim, no price, no destiny because that was the only child taking her would not be theft. Every cold year, every pushed away embrace, every door locked against love: she had not been guarding me from Adrian’s claim. She had been guarding the secret that there was no claim. I was the only person in this war whose identity had never been stolen, because I had never had one to steal.

Liana was making a spectacle, and she was good at it. She wailed, she clung, she declared her pregnancy to the silent, judging hall. The whispers began, sharp and disapproving, directed at the human making a scene among the ancient and powerful. The story spilled out in her hysterical cries. After Marcus severed ties with her—symbolized by him stealing her protective silver and holy water—her welcome in his household had vanished. My human parents, finally seeing her manipulative nature, had closed their doors to her pleas. She’d been destitute.

"Silas Sterling sent back a death certificate. He claimed there had been a horrific car accident in the Hamptons. He sent photos of a charred vehicle, a funeral program, and a grave. He told my father that the burden he had carried had passed away. Sergei... he mourned you for two decades, Evelina. He built a mausoleum in Moscow for a daughter who was currently being raised as a Sterling socialite." I felt my knees buckle, but I forced myself to stay upright. The betrayal was so vast, so absolute, that I couldn't even find the words to scream. Silas hadn't just saved me; he had stolen me. He had murdered my identity to keep me as his perfect daughter, his little piece of leverage against the

That blurry picture he had of Summer was his wallpaper. "It's clearly her!" he said firmly. "Hey, who was that girl?" Terrence had only caught pieces of the incident and didn't really know who was involved. "Oh, if it isn't Mr. Dincht! What a coincidence! Were you here for some fun, too?" Someone recognized him. "I was. Who was that woman just now?" Terrence didn't recognize the other person at all. "You don't know? That was the sole heiress of the famous Hartford Group, the only daughter of the great actress Kristen Woods, Summer Hartford."

"We've retrieved you because you are a perfect genetic match for the Emperor of EN-4396. Therefore, you are going to become the new Empress." Sure, little old Ellis Steward, soon to be a lawyer for the oppressed people was going to be part of the royalty. If that was not the biggest celestial fuck you possible, she didn't know what was. "I'm offended. Did you think I would jump at joy?" she scoffed. "You can't hold me against my will. That's kidnapping. I can sue you." She patted her sides for her cell phone but soon realized that she didn't have pockets. In reality, she wasn't even wearing the same clothes from the beach. Instead, she had been adorned in a silver shimmery tunic similar to t

“We’re in our house, in our goddamn living room.” “In your house?” Her voice cracked like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t yours anymore. None of this is. It belongs to her now. To Hailey Vale, the stripper heiress who just hosted a softcore orgy in our ancestral estate and made the cover of three tabloids.” She flung a rolled-up paper across the room. It slid to a stop in front of Marcus. “STRIPPING HEIRESS CLAIMS THE LACHLAN THRONE.

I muttered, forcing myself to stand. “The one without a signature?” Her grin widened. “Theo stole it. And then I stole it from him. It’s mine now. All I need is one good forgery and I’ll be the next CEO. Try to stop me and I’ll make your past look like a fairy tale.” “You’re sick,” I said quietly. “But I won’t fight you here. Not beside my father’s body. Get out.” She didn’t. She spat on him. I lost it.

"That's kind of the concerning part." "That's what makes it interesting," Jamie says, grinning that infectious smile that has gotten us out of more trouble than it's gotten us into. "Besides, you've got me watching your back. And your fake identity is bulletproof. Sophia Sterling, tech heiress with more money than common sense and a desperate need for male validation." "I do not have a desperate need for male validation," I say, checking my lipstick one more time and trying not to think about how that's probably a lie.

Looking back behind her at the gate as if to make sure no one else was around, she retrieved a small item from her jacket, waving it in front of my eyes. “Because it’s in my hands!” She laughed viciously, shaking the ivory-colored slanted bone in front of me, mocking me as she did so. “Teresa! You, you did this on purpose,” I stumbled, “then why don’t you just rather kill me?” “Because, Lauren, I want to watch you suffer!” She chortled, “Just because you were born before me you were given all of the rights. An heiress just because of birth, and you were always set to marry the strongest Alpha. Meanwhile, I have to pretend to be the good little sister when you’ve always been destined to have

Her identity was kept strictly confidential, her profile deliberately low‑key to protect her privacy and security. Into that gap stepped Amber. She had quickly seized the opportunity, presenting herself openly as the sole heiress and the face of the company. It was a bold, calculated lie—for Amber was nothing more than the daughter of a former household maid, who had learned to mimic the manners and speech of the wealthy while coveting their status and fortune. She saw her chance to rewrite her story, and she took it without hesitation.