The Heiress They Couldn't Break Novels & Stories

She adjusted her grip, awkward, but trying. The warriors jeered. One, Brannon, the largest of the lot, stepped forward, sneering. “Let me test the princess. I would love to know if she bleeds like the rest of us.” I almost allowed it. Almost. But something in the way she stiffened, jaw set despite fear flashing in her eyes, made me wave him off. “Not yet. She’s mine to break.”

I greeted smoothly with my voice carrying a quiet strength. With that, the tension broke, and the noise returned and whispers slowly weaving into conversations with the event shifting back into motion. But even as I moved deeper into the grand hall, I could still feel it; the lingering stares, the weight of unspoken words, the eyes that followed my every step. “You look more elegant in person. Your father never told me he had a daughter this beautiful,” Dr Kent said with a light laugh almost as if trying to crack a joke.

I was a girl who spent her entire childhood wondering why she was born unwanted; The girl who scrubbed tables and gets molested in bars just to survive. But just overnight, I found out that I'm a long lost heiress. I had a lot of questions to ask caleb; they were spinning in my head; How did they lose me for all those years? Why didn’t they find me? How did they let me end up in the hands of that monster who called himself my father? Everything didn’t make sense to me. But I just kept quiet and took in the shock. Doctor Caleb finally left, promising to come back to check on me; and Cynthia came back in with bags of food.

He liked to use my wings as a rack for his obsidian spears—a final, insult to the woman who had broken the world to save it. "Look at her," Kross spat, tossing a half-gnawed bone at my pedestal. "The 'Rejected Heiress' turned into a paperweight. She thought she was the Sovereign. Now she's just a landmark for the crows." He didn't notice the vine.

Luca's small hand found hers and gripped it. Outside the window, Manhattan glittered. A city full of power, full of money, full of the infrastructure that ran the world. And somewhere in that city, Aria's empire was waiting. The Moretti holdings that had been stolen from her, that she would reclaim. The legitimate businesses and the criminal networks. The money and the influence and the respect that came from being the last surviving Moretti. She would claim it all. And she would do it as Dante's equal, not his subordinate. As a billionaire heiress who'd survived being orphaned, hunted, and nearly broken. But not broken. Never fully broken.

“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.

My gaze rests on the pale heiress, accessing her. Even while she stands, appearing unimpressed by all in her sight, a ring of naive men surrounds her, fawning over the front of apathy and standoffishness she's erected. Though, surely not only that wall of dispassion must have risen amidst those incompetent creatures. I broke through that fence years ago, once upon a soulless night, to understand that all about her which glitters and entices the weak are but from a false sense of bravado.

After all, it was a fact that the scions and socialites within the city would be utterly eclipsed if she, the Queen of Finance, made an appearance at that banquet. … Meanwhile, Hazel and the others had already returned to the villa. The entire place felt lifeless. The three heiresses were in the worst mood imaginable as they laid their eyes on the frail Zeke. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do. The mysterious blood donor was nowhere to be found. Evan refused to cooperate. Even worse, the miracle doctor who had cured Gaius had a terrible impression of them. They truly couldn't think of any other viable solution. They were at a dead end.

"Mielle! She's Adharia Navier Valler, the Chairman's beloved sister! The Heiress of the Vasquez Companies! Are you insane?!" Her face turned pale as she realized what she has done. She put the vase down, trembling, and broke into tears. "H-Heiress! Forgive me, it was all their fault! They made me do it, I'm innocent!" She begged and I told an employee to call the company's Doctor to check on Caspian.

She was on the verge of snapping when, finally, another woman sighed heavily beside her: “What’s so tragic about it?” “Tragic? Isn’t it obvious?” another woman chimed in, a well-performing heiress who knew a bit of the Davenier family's mess. “Sure, Esther’s dance was stunning—but so what? She’s not Judy. She’s not a real heiress. Even if she caught Evander’s eye, what difference does it make?”