True Heiress Is The Tycoon Herself Novels & Stories

She had stood on that stage and revealed herself as Hazel Saint Claire, CEO of E&H Investments, and I had stood there like a fool, my mouth hanging open, unable to process what I was seeing. Hazel Saint Claire. Not Hazel Rossi. Not some woman trying to build a small restaurant. Hazel Saint Claire. Billionaire heiress. CEO of a global company. Granddaughter of Margaret Sinclair. And she hadn't told me. All those months together. All those nights when I had asked her what was wrong and she had lied to my face. All those moments when she could have trusted me, could have told me the truth, and instead she had kept it locked away like I was someone she couldn't rely on.

“We’re in our house, in our goddamn living room.” “In your house?” Her voice cracked like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t yours anymore. None of this is. It belongs to her now. To Hailey Vale, the stripper heiress who just hosted a softcore orgy in our ancestral estate and made the cover of three tabloids.” She flung a rolled-up paper across the room. It slid to a stop in front of Marcus. “STRIPPING HEIRESS CLAIMS THE LACHLAN THRONE.

I held back my tears and shouted defiantly, "Skyrise Group belongs to Grandma. I'm the real heiress of the company!" Bang! Before I could catch my breath, Bobby smashed my head against the glass wall again. He continued shouting furiously. "Cindy, quit dreaming. I already gave Skyrise Group to Tina as her wedding gift last year. Whoever marries her will inherit the company!" His words sent a wave of shock through the entire crowd. Everyone's eyes lit up as they stared at Tina. At that moment, a commanding voice came from behind me. "Bobby, I dare you to say that again. Who did you just claim is the heiress of Skyrise Group?"

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.

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.

She found Priya Adeyemi's own eventual successor, a thoughtful young archivist named Marcus Webb, no relation to the earlier Marcus Webb whose family's own reckoning had first drawn Elena into her professional career, and asked the question that had been building in her throughout the entire visit. "How do I make sure I actually deserve all of this?" Isabella asked. "Not just inherit it. Actually earn it, the way everyone before me had to." The young archivist considered the question seriously, understanding, from years of working within exactly this institution, precisely the weight behind it. "I don't think earning it looks the way you might expect," he said. "I don't think it requires you

My face tightened. “Nothing Sir,” he replied, his face straightening now. “This would look good on you, sir.” My hands reached for the tie hanging in his hand. “Let me do it,” he stepped forward. As he fastened the tie around my collar, my mind raced. Tonight was all about Ava Thorne, the heiress, who was going to be announced publicly and I had to make a good impression. She had clawed her way back from the grave and everyone who caused her pain should get ready to suffer the consequences.

My mother-in-law stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be my home, looking at me like I was dirt on her expensive shoes. "He'll be here," I said quietly, even though we both knew I was lying. Margaret laughed, the sound was cold and cruel. "My son is working late with Victoria. You know, someone actually important? Someone who understands business? Not some nobody he picked up from God knows where." My fingers tightened around my phone. I wanted to scream that I understood business better than Victoria ever could, that I could buy and sell the Blackwell family fortune ten times over, that I was Elena Sterling, hidden heiress to Sterling Global, one of the largest corporations in the c

"Did you just… hit me?" "Already lost a few brain cells from the impact?" I sneered and shook my hand to chase away the numbness. "Let this remind you who I am, dumbass. I'm the true heiress of the Blanc family. I wasn't adopted like Bella, so why the hell is she wearing my engagement dress?!" [4-Star Madness. Reward: 30,000,000 dollars.] Cha-ching. The rush was intoxicating, and so was the sudden jump in my bank balance.

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.