Novel & Cerita The Unseen Prodigy Heiress

Across the academy, the system continued running flawlessly. Perfect again. Untouchable. But hidden deep within its layers A single truth remained. Someone had taken control. And walked away unseen. And now Everyone was looking for a ghost.

But fate, it seemed, had tucked a lesson into the quiet. The woman who owned the space, a striking heiress with icy blue eyes and silk scarves knotted at her throat, always left her tablet open. Always humming softly, as if unbothered by being watched. Izora, then barely twenty and invisible in a cleaner’s uniform, couldn’t look away.

I intentionally had Sebastian tell my father to send the money to the hospital account from the company’s account because I am so petty and I wanted this exact reaction from Roder. “Is the Hamit-Beta your-your-” he stammers. I interrupt with a slight smile. “My father.” The receipts slip from Roder’s trembling hands. He stares at me, stunned into silence. “You’re the Hamit-Beta heiress?” Having endured so much recently, I no longer see any reason to keep a low profile. So, I answer with a “Yes.” I watch as his expression goes through shock, disbelief, and finally horror as he realizes how much mess he’s currently in.

"And his date, who is she? She's absolutely gorgeous. It's like she stepped out of a fairy tale, a mix of queen and princess!" "Is she the next big thing, groomed by some entertainment tycoon, debuting at Victoria Garden House today? Just imagine, rubbing shoulders with the elite here could pave her way to stardom, as long as she steers clear of any bad deals." "Could be! However, what if she's the elusive Ms. Foster?" "No chance! Ms. Foster, the heiress of the Foster dynasty, wouldn't fly under the radar. Just look at her, clinging to Mr. James Foster like she's his shadow..."

“Smart girl. Don’t worry — I’m not interested in your little love story. I have bigger plans.” He walked to the desk and handed me an envelope — thick, unmarked. “This will cover the exact amount. No more, no less. Deliver it to Heather, and she’ll have no excuse to linger.” I took it, my hands shaking. It was heavier than I expected, like it carried more than just money. “And the favor?” I asked quietly. “When?” His gaze turned cold and his mouth curved into a grin before he said, “It wouldn't be fun if I tell you now, would it, princess?"

Just terrifying, instinctive precision. That night had haunted him. No socialite could do that. No ordinary heiress could kneel in blood and stitch life back into a man’s chest. It didn’t make sense. Unless… Unless she wasn’t who she claimed to be. Zogo had guessed. He’d searched. Pulled strings. Hunted rumors of a vanished medical prodigy…. some ghosts doctor the black market whispered about like a myth. He just never had proof. Until now. “You…” he said softly, more breath than voice.

He just looked through her like she was invisible, completely dismissive of her existence. He slowly turned his head away, responding to something Caelum said, completely erasing her from his mind. A cold, heavy weight settled into the pit of her stomach, heavier than the invisible leash Alpha Thomas used to control her. Standing there in the shadow of the elite pavilion, she realized just how high above her they truly were. In a world ruled by corporate status, ancient bloodlines, and raw power, a packless nanny was nothing. The future was a distant, dark road, and she was entirely on her own.

I’d hidden my identity as the firstborn of the Progenitor, Princess Devereux, playing the part of a nobody in this second-rate city for a century. My reward? A thirty-third public humiliation. When I returned to the gothic mansion, Heidi rushed to meet me, her face etched with worry. “My lady, you look so pale…” “It’s nothing.” I walked straight to the study. “Go sort through my papers. I’m resigning from all my council duties.” In the study, the Coven’s scrying pool pulsed with a blinding light. It was Evangeline again. She seemed determined to make sure I saw her victory.

He looked like a storybook prince—Adrien from Miraculous, perhaps—if that prince had been forced into a black button-down suit. “That’s true,” He whispered. I was trying my hardest to ignore the impossible words I had overheard through the door. Heiress. Stolen. Dead. It had to be a misunderstanding. It was a coincidence of features, a trick of the light. I was Ophelia Vitale, the girl from the orphanage. We climbed a grand, sweeping staircase and reached a set of towering double doors made of dark, intricately carved mahogany. Eugene pushed them open, and we stepped into a room that felt more like a sanctuary than a study. Upon entering, my breath hitched.

“To pay someone a visit.” “Who?” Julian hesitated. Then he said it: “Dominic Crane’s daughter.” Aiden looked stunned. “Crane has a daughter?” Julian nodded. “She’s not on the books. She lives abroad. But she visits under aliases. I caught a glimpse of her once, at Harold’s birthday gala. She’s the only person he keeps off the chessboard.” “Why?” Clarissa asked. “Because she’s his queen,” Julian said. “And if I’m right, she’s the key to unlocking how deep this goes.”