Novel & Cerita The Lost Heiress Never Forgiven

“That’s what makes this so tragic.” My pulse pounds in my ears. He lowers his voice. “Our missing heiress.” The words hit me wrong. “The world believed you burned with the rest of them,” he continues. “A child swallowed by fire, a family line erased.” I shake my head. “You’re insane.” He leans in slightly and says the name clearly. “Maltina.” The sound of it lands like a physical blow. For a second, I can’t breathe. Fire. Smoke crawling up curtains.

I paused and gripped him by the collar, forcing him to look me directly in the eye, he was taller than me but I made it work. "Or did you think I'm that dumb and I wouldn't recognize an acquaintance burner account." I added with a smirk watching his eyes widen with realization and fear. "I'm so sorry miss." He instantly started apologizing but I had no interest in that. "You probably thought I am just an airhead for a heiress,huh? Sorry to disappoint you." I released him from my grip and wiped my hand with the wipes on the table like I was cleaning an extremely dirty existence off my body.

I whispered under my breath. I clicked one. “That woman is dangerous. She should be arrested immediately.” I hadn’t processed the first one when another popped in, “Rich people think they can cover up crimes.” “Where is the missing heiress? Start with Grace Parker.” My grip tightened on the phone. “That’s not true,” I muttered. Another notification popped in, “ she’s acting innocent but she knows something.” I exhaled sharply and locked the screen. I barely knew anything about her But even as I said it, something unsettled me because the missing heiress…

No, thousands upon thousands. Below the photos were purchase records— He bought priceless antiques from museums,and then deliberately lost them to Pera at the casino. The love of a Mafia heir is secretive, disciplined, and absolute. But tragically—It was never for me. Faced with such blatant fidelity,those moments I once mistook for love,vanished. Each photograph pierced my heart like a needle. I remembered the gifts he had given me over the years. Now I understood—They were nothing but compensation.

I didn’t answer then she walked away before I could. And I stood there, alone, watching the ghost of a woman who no longer belonged to me fade into the trails of wealth I could never trace. But I would. I’d find out who she was with and I’d get her back. No matter what it cost. Because if she was going to cheat on me, even if I was the first to betray, then I wanted to know who she thought was better than me. And I’d make sure he regretted it.

Then, as if recalling something, she added lightly— “Speaking of which… doesn’t the title ‘mistress pretending to be a rich heiress’ suit you quite well? Saves me the trouble of coming up with a headline when I expose you.” Vanessa’s expression froze. “I’ve been part of the Hartley family since birth!” she snapped. “As for Gabriel, you couldn’t keep him, that’s your failure. No one will believe you.” Isabella smiled faintly. “Then let’s test that.” Her voice dropped. “I’ll reveal mine too. The two men you bribed are still missing, aren’t they? Maybe I’ll have better luck finding them publicly.” Vanessa’s face turned pale. “Isabella… you’re insane.”

Olivia’s voice rang out, drawing fleeting glances from the crowd before all eyes returned to me. I wanted to laugh, but it was my sister’s wedding we were talking about. “What nonsense are you spouting?” Ah, there it was. Mirela had finally found her voice - shameless as ever. I nodded, my mind racing with the stupidity of my past. How had I ever trusted her to be the mother I never had? The signs had always been there—her fake smiles, her manipulative games. She had never loved me. Not once. “You don’t mean to suggest the wedding should go on now that the lost heiress of the Gomez fortune has returned?” Matilda, always a quiet observer, finally spoke up, her voice sharp.

For the first time since the night of the fire, I felt whole. Because tonight, the world didn’t see Isabella. It saw Marisol Abram, the heiress who rose from the flames. And this time, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Abigail spat, "You can't even give me a few minutes to myself in my own father's garden?" She sounded like Olivia. Like Charlotte. Abigail sounded like a spoiled little rich girl, exactly what Mark accused her of being, and she knew it. But right now, Abigail couldn't be bothered to care. She just wanted five god d*mn minutes alone to cry. Why was that so much to ask for? "What," Mark said, clearly irritated and oblivious to the distraught feelings going through Abigail. "Daddy refused to get you the bracelet you wanted from the Museum of History even though it would look so much better on your arm than for the public to see the history of the world?"

Two people who knew exactly where they stood and had chosen to stand there anyway. "I'll draw you a map," she said. "I'd appreciate that," he said. It wasn't forgiveness. They both knew it wasn't forgiveness. She had handed Ivy's location to a man who would have drained her to nothing. He had chosen Maya knowing what it would do to Celeste. The history between them was what it was — unsalvageable, belonging to both of them in equal measure. Maya was in that compound. Ivy was asleep twenty feet away. "The northwest corner," he said. "The camera interference. How long does the window last."