The Divorced Billionaire Heiress Novel Free Novels & Stories

I barely even breathed as he took my hand—my fingers instantly stiffening at his touch—and pressed a small folded note into my palm. My stomach churned. Something was wrong. I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I slowly unfolded the paper. And the moment my eyes landed on the words scrawled across it, my breath hitched. **"Say yes, Olivia. Or everyone in this room will find out exactly who you are. Olivia Richards. The secret daughter of a billionaire."** The words blurred as panic set in. My blood turned to ice. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, like I couldn’t breathe.

Blue sat at the table coloring quietly, unaware that the headlines had already started spreading. I looked down at my screen. BLACKWOOD DIVORCE SECRETS RESURFACE Hidden Child Rumors Surround Billionaire CEO Sources Question Timeline of Marriage Collapse Jesus Christ. The leak had spread faster than I expected. I opened the article anyway. Mistake. They framed Elara exactly the way I knew they would. Quiet wife. Mysterious disappearance. Speculation about infidelity. Questions about paternity timelines carefully disguised as “industry curiosity.” Cowards. Every single one of them.

Rachel sat at her desk, looking out over the lake, her tablet buzzing with congratulations and interviews she declined without hesitation. She opened a private draft. A memoir she never intended to publish. She titled the new chapter: “The Girl Who Gave the World Away” She smiled faintly. And started to type. He waited for her on the villa’s rooftop, overlooking the mountains. A bottle of chilled white wine stood between them, untouched. Sophie finally arrived. She kicked off her shoes, exhaled, and sat beside him. “You didn’t watch the numbers?” he asked. “No need,” she said. “I felt them.”

Kyle's POV The scotch burns a path down my throat. Glass after glass. The bottle's nearly empty now, but the anger still burns hotter than the alcohol. Divorce. The word echoes in my mind, mocking my control. How dare she? After everything I've given her—the lifestyle, the security, the position—she dares to hand me divorce papers? My office is too quiet. Too dark. The city lights spread out below my penthouse window, a sea of possibilities I've always controlled. Until now.

“Isn’t his ex-wife Anya Walter? They are already divorced. Why would his ex-wife stay here to take care of him?” “Who knows?” “I heard that Evan is dating Princess Novlis. I wonder if it is true. Why is he with his ex-wife now?” “Also, same time ago, he had scandal with the daughter of Ship King. Which one of his real girlfriend?” A more mature-looking nurse added, “Isn’t normal for wealthy families to do such a things? Which successful man doesn’t have multiple girlfriends?” “Tsk, there are many good men.” “That’s just because it hadn’t been exposed. Do you think they don’t keep any mistresses?”

she hissed. Hendrix turned to the side and took a step forward, bridging the gap between them. “Your business is my business, Margaux,” he retorted. She glared at him. “How so? We're not married. If you still acknowledge that I am Margaux Hermani, well then, we are already officially divorce. I'm single now with my original and fake name. So my business is no one's business. That's only mine, not even my family, especially not yours!” she exclaimed.

I wish he was here to see how far I have gone, I wish he could see that I fulfilled his dying wish. But Mason was right, I make a very good Heiress, and my father will always remain a proud dad because today marks a year since I became CEO of white nova robotics. Nova was my second name, and my dad had made sure to name his achievement after him like he knew one day it would be mine. I looked down at my hands, the diamond ring on my finger sparkled under the light of the stars and moon. It felt heavy because it cost a fortune and Mason had given it to me.

She wore ripped jeans and a silk camisole, hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, but the energy coming off her could’ve powered half of Manhattan. She shoved a flute of champagne into my hand. Bubbles raced up the glass like tiny fireworks. “To freedom,” she said, clinking her glass against mine so hard I thought it might crack. “And to the bitch who finally stopped apologizing for breathing.” I took a long sip. The cold fizz burned down my throat in the best way. “I signed the papers,” I said. “I know. Theo texted me screenshots of the headlines. ‘Heiress Dumps Billionaire in Dramatic Courthouse Showdown.’ Iconic.”

Vivienne Laurent woke before dawn. She always did. The penthouse was silent except for the faint hum of the city below. Glass walls revealed Paris stretching endlessly beneath her, rooftops washed in early morning blue. From the outside, the penthouse was a dream. Inside, it felt like a museum she wasn’t allowed to touch. Vivienne lay still, staring at the ceiling, replaying the previous night. Daniel. His voice—steady, familiar. The way he had looked at her like she was still the girl who’d shared secrets with him on a cracked sidewalk. Not a billionaire heiress. Not Margaux Laurent’s ornamental stepdaughter.