The Muscle Heiress Novels & Stories

I had just finished warming up at my adoptive father's boxing gym when I was brought back to my wealthy biological family. When my tanned, heavily muscled self walked into the living room, my biological parents, who had been ready to humiliate me, fell completely silent. They had brought me back because they wanted me to marry the heir of the Lamberts. He was rumored to have a violent temper and had already scared away ten fiancées. The fake heiress was still pretending to cry at first. But the moment she saw my massive biceps, she stopped crying. She nervously hid behind my older brother. "Jack, are you sure Mr. Andrew is abusing Rachel and not the other way around? What if Rachel is the on

She is wearing a soft grey dress and her hair is loose and she looks like a person who slept in her own space and woke up in a room that had been arranged by someone who thought about what she might need. She stops when she sees Damien. "Elena," I say. "This is Damien Cross. He's my head of security and my oldest friend." She looks at him steadily, she is not performing comfort she doesn't feel, which I have noticed is a characteristic of hers. She presents herself accurately. "I remember you," she says. "You were always near Lucien at family events. You watched me." Damien's expression registers something that might be mild surprise. "I did."

He didn't look homeless, and one can tell from one glance that he is well-read. The truth is I was not finding any of his questions funny as I felt miserable and pained from all the embarrassment I had earlier encountered. I pulled down my shirt for him to see out of annoyance. “Here it is sir, it is a fucking birthmark and I hate it, I will gladly give you if you want it," I said in frustration. “I'm so sorry to bother you my lady, but I happen to come from London, and this mark of yours is a mark that is mostly associated with the royal family, I think if that mark is real, that you may be a princess,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.

, stella said so sweet without any shuttering of words coming from her mouth,where as here I am feeling a new emotion, I know it is definitely not nervous but it's definetly about the things happening next. "She is the one who is new to celebrity world,but definetly not look like the newcomer in this world,she is the one who is the heiress but never behaves or shows her status around,she is new to business world but also the one who reached the top in everything she stepped and started moving towards the steps of success same as her ancestors, she is the one good from heart and won the hearts of many people around her,lets introduce the Heiress of Warner Empire, grand daughter of the ruler o

Confusion swarmed in Greg's eyes as he held on to her fragile body. “I did some digging, Greg. About Megan. About who she really is.” Greg froze, his mind reeling with disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asked for the hundredth time. Elizabeth took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reached for her phone. “I found something. Something that might explain everything.” With trembling hands, she handed Greg her phone, the screen displaying a headline that made his blood run cold: “New York's Youngest Heiress Revealed: Margaret Song.”

Reading books and watching corny romances didn't involve much physical strength, now did it? The room turned out to be a large hallway that branched out into different sections of the mansion. And there was a familiar voice filtering out from one of the other doorways. I could recognize that entitled high-pitched screech from my nightmares. Simone Salvador, heiress to our family’s billion-dollar company, Ultra Media, and my younger twin.

He said that there is more toil. "What do you need from me?" Saint promised weakly. "We want your power! Your position! And your wealth. And Deus wants to know where the hell is the mafia heiress." Mafia Heiress? Savienna is the real mafia heiress. But I am still claiming it as me because that's what they thought too. "Okay, I got what I wanted. Now I need to erase you to keep your mouth shut." Because of what Saint said, I saw a strange fear that enveloped Gayle's entire being.

I wanted to call out for help, but a part of me suspected I might be kidnapped, and alerting whoever was holding me might not be the best idea. I slipped on my slippers and stood up, feeling a bit dizzy. My head throbbed, but I managed to move forward. I gripped my hairpin tightly, using it as a makeshift defense. As I stepped out of the room, I took in the grandeur of the mansion. It was huge, even bigger than mine, and beautifully decorated. The walls were painted white, and the hallway was adorned with various art pieces. The opulence suggested that my kidnapper was wealthy, which made me wonder what their motives were because it was clear that they don't need money from me.

She glanced at Mia, silently pleading with her to play along. Mia, ever the perceptive one, seemed to sense the unspoken tension between the two. Her smile faltered slightly, and she slowly lowered her hand, tucking it into the pocket of her designer jeans. "Actually, Mr. Maverick, I'm not just any friend." She tilted her chin up defiantly, her gaze unwavering. "I'm the heiress to Vitalis Pharmaceuticals. And I have to say, I'm quite interested in this...arrangement you have with my dear Evie."

One slip could ruin everything he had planned. Lucas’s mind raced as he scrutinized the woman more closely. She wasn’t ordinary; her jewelry gleamed with undeniable expense, her pale hands spoke of privilege. This wasn’t some desperate girl...it was a wealthy, entitled heiress, accustomed to bending the rules and bending herself to get what she wanted. The realization made him wary. She wasn’t naive; she was calculating, bold, and probably skilled at using her allure to get exactly what she wanted.