Novel & Cerita The Real Heiress Doesn't Forgive

She tries to hide her hands behind the tablet. ​"A scar proves nothing," the girl snaps. "A prisoner gets scars. An heiress stays perfect." ​"An heiress," I repeat. I stand up. The blanket falls to the floor. "You called yourself an heiress. I told Liam I am a ghost. I told him I would rather be a ghost with him than a queen." ​The girl in the red dress sneers. "A sentimental lie. You want the power. You want the codes." ​She turns the tablet toward me.

“They share the same birthday because they were switched at birth. The real heiress lost everything, became an orphan at five, and spent ten years in an orphanage before being found. And yet, every year after that, she was pushed into the background while the imposter stole the spotlight!” “Right! And at that same party, the fake heiress ‘accidentally’ fell into the pool with her! In her own family’s pool! I’m starting to think she pushed Fiona in on purpose!” “They claimed the real heiress tried to end her life, but if she truly wanted to, she would’ve done it long before now! Why on her birthday of all days? And she’s wheelchair-bound—how could she possibly harm a fully abled adult? Clearl

"You know, Gina, no matter how much money you have, you still don’t fit the position of an heiress." I tilted my head. "Oh? And why is that?" "Because," Julian said, stepping closer, "an heiress should be graceful. Elegant. Refined. Not a power-hungry woman who’s desperate to prove something." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Ah, Julian. Still bitter, I see. Let me guess—you thought you’d seen the last of me?" He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I was hoping." "Well, sorry to disappoint you," I said, feigning sympathy. "But as you can see, I’m very much alive. And unlike you, I don’t need anyone’s approval to be where I am."

Foster spoke briefly to the assembled delegates, his voice carrying the particular careful conviction Isabella recognized as unmistakably his own great-great-great-great-grandmother's legacy. "This charter exists because one man's contribution was stolen, and one woman, generations later, refused to let that theft remain buried," he told the gathered representatives. "Every institution signing this document today commits to exactly the same principle that started this entire story — that truth, however long buried, however far removed from the people who first uncovered it, deserves to be restored, completely and honestly, regardless of the cost."

He just stood there, staring at me across the crowded ballroom with an expression of complete devastation. The girl he'd thrown away, the wife he'd neglected and humiliated, the woman he'd told would never find anyone better, was Isabella Morrison. Granddaughter of Alexander Morrison. Heir to one of the largest fortunes in the country. One of the most powerful women in New York. And he'd let me go without a fight. The applause finally died down and I sat back down, accepting congratulations from the people at my table with grace and poise I'd learned from watching my brothers navigate society. But I was hyperaware of the Wei family table, of the chaos I knew was happening there.

He had always been so taken by her, clinging to her every word—something he never once did with me. Now I finally understood why. I shut my eyes tight and told myself that this wasn't real. But when I opened them, I was forced to face reality. “I am the heiress of this household. You can't just…you can't do this.” “We can do whatever we want, Calista. You made that perfectly clear when you killed our father!” her eyes brimmed with hatred, and I was reminded of how wicked I had been, how selfish I had been to cause our father's death.

I said, my voice sincere, hoping she could see the truth in my eyes. I meant every word. She stared at me for a moment before speaking, her voice measured. "I'm only going to forgive you because I want to prove my father's innocence." A wave of relief washed over me, and for a moment, I wanted to hug her, to bridge the gap between us. But I pushed the feeling aside, reminding myself that even if our fathers were innocent, we could only be friends. I didn't like her, I told myself sternly, but my eyes betrayed me, locking onto hers as I murmured, "Thank you. So, are we going to work together to get the person who did this?" I asked.

He said. "I've been working my butt off for everyone all my life" "And It's time for me to step down and enjoy the rest of my life" I was so shocked. Don't tell me. "It's time to introduce the new successor of Madden Group of Hospitals and Madden Realty Group" No way. Not yet. "Let me introduce to you, my one and only heiress, the reason for all of my hard work. Soline Madden" My mouth dropped. I want to throw tantrums at dad but everyone is looking at me including the men I slept with.

“Exactly. The real heiress kept a low profile for years. Of course she wouldn’t come in shouting about who she was. Freya’s act was way too obvious.” Freya and Chuck froze completely. “No. That’s impossible.” Chuck muttered under his breath. “She worked at my company for years. How could she be the group’s heiress?” Then he seemed to remember something and suddenly turned to Freya. “Wait. Didn’t you have the family pendant? The one you showed us before? “Were you lying to me this whole time? Was that pendant fake?” Freya desperately shot him a look, telling him to shut up. But it was too late. The words had already left his mouth.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting a fake marriage, Michelle.” “Why not? Pretending this relationship was real has worked so far. Why stop now?” She asked, gaze unwavering. She was serious. “No,” I shook my head. “A fake marriage? That’s too far over the line.” The heiress stood, coming around the island as she spoke. “Will your father peacefully accept losing his chance to build a permanent connection with Hughes Industries?” She asked, voice harsh and unbending. “My parents will be disappointed, but they’ll easily find another wealthy heir to make their son-in-law.”