The Wrong Heiress Novels & Stories

Melissa sneered, turning back to the heiress. "Miss Hale, you are a queen, and you deserve to know that your fiancé has been seen everywhere with this Elara. She’s a gold digger and at first she trapped The Blackwood heirs, Nathaniel Blackwood. Later Nathaniel saw her true colors and divorced her. She is a disgraced woman with no family and no shame. She is trying to crawl her way back into high society through your man’s bed! She is a mistress, a nobody."

Renea ignored Stella and took the economic book from her bag to read. On the other hand, the bet between Renea, Sophia, and Kailey had been discussed on the school forum. Someone had organized a gambling game, betting on who would win. There had long been posts on the forum about the true and false heiresses of the Morris family. Now many were placing bets on Kailey and Sophia to win. After all, one was the true heiress, while the other was the vice principal’s daughter. No matter how incapable they were, everyone felt that they would be better than Renea, who scored only 249 marks.

"Ivy! Have you lost your mind? What do you mean 'coming back,' what 'frauds'? If they're frauds despite sharing my blood, then what does that make you? "Marigold, take Ivy back to her courtyard. She's not to leave without my say-so. And fetch a physician. I want her head examined properly." "I won't go! There's nothing wrong with me! Mother, believe me! Please believe me!" Ivy was hauled off by two matrons, one on each arm, thrashing and fighting the whole way, her hair coming loose. "Celeste! You'll come to a bad end! Just you wait! I won't let this go! I'm the real heiress! I'm the real—"

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.

"Of course they don't know each other. The fake heiress lost her Westbridge University spot, so now she's resorting to cheap tricks to seduce Spencer. She's downright shameless for always trying to steal the real heiress' man." Me? Trying to seduce Spencer? What an absurd, pathetic assumption. I straightened the desk that had been kicked askew expressionlessly and erased the butterfly doodle with my eraser. Then, under the mix of sympathetic, scornful, and gloating stares, I walked out of the class with my head held high.

“Shall we, my lady?” I rolled my eyes but took his hand. “Try not to embarrass me tonight.” “Impossible,” he said with a grin. The moment I stepped out, the world seemed to freeze. Heads turned. Gasps fluttered through the crowd. The air felt thick as people’s whispers rose around us. I could feel every eye on me. “Alice White…” someone murmured. “That’s her! The white family heiress!” “Look at that gown—oh my goddess, that’s a Lisa couture piece worth over a billion!”

“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

She set the report down. She looked at it for a long moment. "The Maddox daughter," she said. Not a question. "Octavia," Reaper said. "Not Olivia. Olivia was the intended party. There was a mistake at the signing." She looked at the report. "A mistake," she said. "The gallery roster. Low light. Someone made a call." She was quiet for a moment. Not processing. She had processed it already, reading it. This was something else. The particular stillness of a woman who had survived everything she had survived by understanding that the difference between a mistake and an opportunity was entirely a matter of positioning.

BLURB Elara has spent eighteen years at the bottom of her pack. She is an orphaned Omega with no wolf, and she scrubs the floors of people who step on her hands. On her eighteenth birthday the Moon Goddess gives her a mate: Callum, the Alpha's son and the only person who has ever been kind to her. Within minutes he rejects her in front of the whole pack and claims the Beta's daughter instead. Heartbroken, Elara runs into the night and collides with a brooding stranger who tells her to take her crying somewhere else. They trade insults. Neither can ignore the heat between them. Then an elderly man sees her face and calls her by a name she has never heard: Elara Vale. She is the stolen dau

They told her she was lucky to be allowed through the front door. Sophia had spent her entire life believing she was just a poor girl with nowhere to belong. Then she discovers the family she never knew existed. But instead of welcoming their long-lost daughter, the Resingtons give her a basement room, a maid’s uniform, and one warning: Never let anyone know who you are.