The Real Heiress Doesn't Forgive Novels & Stories

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ “As the cleaner you had your own uniform,” Lyn handed her a paper bag, Alexei get it and looked inside. It is a black with a touch of grey shirt and pants. “This it the room that you need to clean for today. There is also a mini map of the hotel,” Lyn handed her some papers, “your grandfather asked me to hide your identity as the heiress. Only me and the assistant manager knew.”‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎

The rest had barricaded themselves in one of the lower towers and waited for rescue that never came. There were three of them left alive. Two women and a man, all bearing the marks of the attack—burn scars, wounds that had been hastily treated and were starting to show signs of infection. Their eyes were hollow in a way that suggested they'd witnessed things that human minds weren't supposed to see. The older woman's name was Captain Solace. She had close-cropped gray hair and a bearing that suggested she'd spent her entire life trying to hold things together. Even now, even in this catastrophe, she was trying.

“I’m the real heiress of the Grant family.” “No way!” Yvette screamed, protesting, but then she realized we were not at the orphanage. She clamped her hands over her mouth and shook her head in panic. “You died so horribly in your last life. Ms. Hovard had to collect your body. I got there too late and only saw your ashes. And now, you’re saying you’re the real heiress? Who are you trying to fool? No parent could be that cruel to actually kill their own child.”

I was abandoned at a werewolf orphanage the day I was born. But one look at me was all it took for a witch to predict that I'd grow up rich. After I posted a notice searching for my birth family, the second- and third-wealthiest werewolf packs came forward and took me in, one after the other. When the first pack's fake heiress forged messages to make it look like I'd leaked pack secrets to a rogue, I turned the tables by uncovering evidence of the rogue's crimes. My adoptive father, Alaric Sterling, rewarded me with control of three mineral veins. When the second pack's fake heiress slit her own wrist and accused me of draining her wolf power, I used the moment to reveal my healing gift. Thi

“Hardly. I came to remind you that you don’t own this space; you don’t own this city. Tonight, the spotlight isn’t just yours.” With that, I turned my gaze to Gabriella, who took a small step back, observing me with equal parts disdain and intrigue. “Congratulations on your new partnership,” I said, my openness a strategic mask for the confidence bubbling beneath. “Though we all know you’re merely a pawn in Andre’s elaborate chess game.” Gasps spread through the attendees at my audacity, their eyes darting between the three of us, hungry for the unfolding drama. Gabriella lifted her chin, an unmistakable defiance glimmering in her icy gaze. “And you must be the runaway heiress who’s chosen t

He asked her. “I already told you, my name is Gilda. The reason why I am here’s to visit you, of course.” She said with a twisted smile on her face. “We don’t know each other and judging from the look of it, seems like you didn’t come here for a good purpose. What exactly do you want?” He repeated the same question again. She leaned in closer and whispered in his ears. “I want to see my murderer rot in prison.” Hearing these words, his eyes widened and Sofia pulled back, returning to her seat with a victorious smile on her face.

The heels, dress, and jewelry. Millions of dollars sitting on one person’s body. Sometimes I wondered if maybe that would have been my life too. Designer clothes, going on vacation, and swimming in luxury. The life of Athena Mallway. But one thing Cassie and I would never have in common was character. Right from childhood Cassie always believed poor people deserved to be treated like trash. But my parents raised us differently. They taught the twins and me to respect everyone no matter their status. Even if I still had my position as the rightful heiress of Mallway Holdings, I would never become someone like Cassie Sinclair.

“All my life, I was your heir, your only true daughter! Bianca is the child of an affair and not a legitimate heir to the throne!” Bianca sighed as the crowd went wild again. She waited patiently for the voices to go quiet, as if she had all the time in the world. “My sister is right about one thing,” she said once everyone was calm again. “It’s true: I was born out of wedlock to a call girl.” Her eyes tightened a little, just enough that I noticed. “All my life, I was not formally recognized as the King’s heir. But now, seeing as our illustrious female Alpha has lost her wolf and misbehaved terribly, my father has finally recognized me. I am the heir now. I have received my inheritance.”

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.”

But it was from my father’s company—the quality was excellent. I let out a quiet sigh and tried to explain one last time. “First, the watch is mine. “Second, you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The real heiress is probably still out there somewhere, waiting for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a frail girl in a server’s uniform standing in the corner of the banquet hall, watching in fear. Her features bore a strong resemblance to the matriarch of the Lawson family, Jasmine Ross, at least seventy or eighty percent.