Novelas y relatos de The Heir Book

The billionaires heirs Third-person POV... "No, thank you," Ashley says. The atmosphere turns awkward and Ashley quickly looks away from him. "Take some rest; you look tired," Ashley says after a few minutes. When Ashley looked at Adrian, he had a smug smile on his face. "Okay," he agreed and he stood up. He walks toward the table, pulls out one of William Shakespeare's books and hands it to Ashley. She takes it and reads the title, A Midsummer Night's Dream and then looks at Adrian, confused. He walks to the other side of the bed, removes his shoes and socks, and then flips on the bed.

It wasn’t just any Tribunal shadow. It was *his father.* A name he'd never spoken. A ghost he thought he’d escaped. Now, that legacy was hunting them both. --- **\[POV – Seraphine | The Mirror Chamber]** She reached the core of the passage. At its center: a pool of liquid flame. Above it, a message inscribed in ash: > *The heir who sees herself clearly will not burn.* She leaned over the flame— And in it, her reflection warped — showing her with a crown made of bone, eyes glowing like her mother’s, lips cracked from battle, but still smiling.

The monstrous cruelty of it stole my breath. "He’s suffocating us," I breathed, the horror dawning fully. "He freezes everything, paralyzes the company, makes it impossible for you to function… and in three days, when the Heir Clause activates, there’s nothing left to inherit but ashes and debt. He walks in as the ‘savior’." The sheer, diabolical elegance of Alister’s plan was horrifying.

“I do not know how you were raised or freedoms that you were permitted. But you are no longer that.” She begins to pace from side to side, bouncing between Joshua and Atticus. “You are Apions, you are its new heirs. And highborn children are well-mannered, that means: Speaking when only spoken to, no additional side-comments, you listen and obey. Do you understand?” Wordlessly, we all nod, a wave of bobbleheads. “Good.” She rounds Joshua’s small flank, disappearing out of our field of view, but her voice echoes from one ear to the next from behind.

The people were emerging from the shadows, their eyes hollow, their hands reaching out toward us as if we were the only warmth left in a frozen world. But as we walked, I felt a sharp, cold spike in my mind—a new signature, one that hadn't been on the drive or in the vault. Signature Detected: The Heir. I looked at Dante, but he didn't see it. He was looking at the crowd, his eyes glowing with a territorial pride. I didn't tell him. I just tightened my grip on his hand, the secret burning in my blood like a slow-acting toxin. If the Heir has survived within Ivy’s own mind, is their Happily Ever After just a temporary truce before the final, internal war—and will Dante still love the Queen wh

“Crane knows who you really are, Julian. He’s known for weeks. He’s just been waiting… watching… to see who else figures it out.” Julian’s stomach tightened. Aiden stared at him. “You mean…” Oliver nodded. “Yes. He knows you’re the heir.” Clarissa stepped forward, and said in a hard voice. “Then why hasn’t he done anything?” “Because,” Oliver said slowly, “he’s not the type to eliminate the heir. He’s the type to use him.” Julian’s breath caught. “He wants to control you, Julian. Put you in Harold’s place, clean up the mess, and make it look like VanDermere Global is being saved from within. You’ll be his puppet, his perfect distraction while he tightens his grip on the company.”

I say, seeing which papers that idiot was looking at. "I'm not a peeper". Speaks sitting in the chair facing my desk. "I just don't understand why you feel so much hatred for him". "Don't you understand?" I ask louder, not believing what I had just heard. "You are the daughter and heiress of businessmen, fairy tales don't exist for any of us". She answers seriously. "You should be happy because he's young, he's hot, and you have an overwhelming chemistry. I'm still recovering from what I saw". She says, shaking herself with a smile.

I pressed a hand to my temple. No. Nope. Absolutely not. There were plenty of Black Hollow problems I had prepared myself for. Gossip. Bad memories. Ex-mate trauma. Possibly mold in the Frost house. Telepathic window monsters had not made the list. The silver-eyed thing leaned closer to the glass. The bloody symbol smeared beneath its hand. The voice came again, colder this time. The blood heir lives. Every muscle in my body locked. Blood heir. The words felt wrong and familiar at the same time, like hearing a name I had forgotten belonged to me.

I have always been a stickler for the rules. In elementary school, our class holds an election for class president. The teacher ignores the vote and appoints the principal's son instead. I follow the school's rule that whoever receives the majority vote should win, gather all 42 students, and take the election straight to the principal's office to redo the vote. When I grow up and start working, my boss hands me a thousand-dollar expense receipt and orders me to file a ten-thousand-dollar reimbursement claim. I refuse, as it violates company policy. The manager laughs. "Here, whatever the boss says goes. Learn to bend when you can, or the company may decide it needs someone more obedien

Cassian asked, and he nodded with a smile. "You won't have to marry her or anything like that, just choose a woman who isn't materialistic and doesn't crave too much attention, as it could bring us significant problems in the future," he said, shrugging and taking the papers from his son's hands. "Why all of this?" Cassian asked, indignant with his father's attitude. "I want you to have an heir," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.