Under The Heiress' Facade Mga Nobela at Kwento

"She barged in, glared at everyone like she owned the place, and completely derailed everything. Call it what it is, Elijah." "That woman still doesn't have class at all," Mama added, her voice dripping with annoyance as she adjusted her pearls. I smirked at Veronica's words, leaning back in my chair. "She's the legitimate heiress of Uncle Edmund. So, technically, she has her fair share of this place." Veronica scoffed, her lips curling into a sneer. "Fair share or not, that doesn’t mean she has to act like a spoiled child. There’s a way to handle things, Elijah, and Eloise has clearly never learned it."

Shella cringed at the thought that crossed her mind. "You have a crush on Sir Lucas, too, Shella. I could accept it if he had chosen one of us. But not that brat. We don't even know where she came from" She was exasperated. "Is she a secret heiress like Madame Skye? I don't think so. She is too pathetic for such drama" She rolled her eyes and scoffed in contempt. "I'm a heiress but it's not a secret. Not a pathetic too"

I'm an Alpha, an heiress, and a well-brought-up lady. "A heiress indeed. A heiress without a land or pack. And - if you are well brought up as you claimed, how come you rushed at my manhood the moment you had the chance?" "I don't have a choice. " "Nobody put knives to your throat." "Yes, but things were more complicated than they appeared to you."

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

Zark exclaimed and left, not wanting to intrude for another second longer. Janice ignored him and turned toward Frank, muttering, "Sorry, I got ahead of myself. Please don't mind!" Frank teased, "You're an heiress who holds a high status in the country, and by extension the world. But you're not ladylike at all." Janice pouted. "More like that's because you've never met anyone from my circle! I'm actually one of the better ones—those who look good in appearance are secretly filthy behind the scenes."

“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.

"The heiress does not have an accord with fire, so who are you exactly." The medium ignited dangerously, causing Anna to hide behind Meliae, But the much more experienced nymph bravely stood her ground. She did not know if he was bluffing or not about having an accord with the heiress, but one thing she was sure of, one thing that cannot change no matter what. Amalthea surely knew her followers were here for her, but that was not the end of it, she surely knew that Meliae was here, her friend, the heiress was cool and amazing, and she would never let anything harm her followers. In her heiress she trusted. "Alright, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Let us say you do have an accord w

Like she couldn’t breathe properly. “Elara?” That voice Her heart skipped. She turned quickly. “Ryan…” For a second, relief flashed across her face. Finally. Someone on her side. Ryan walked toward her, dressed in a neat black suit, his usual confident smile on his face. He looked her up and down, then smirked slightly. “Where’s my heiress?” he said playfully. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The word hit differently now. Heiress. Elara forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Ryan, I”

Brian called it. “Pop-up my ass!”, Jake thought. The place reeked of moldering concrete and spilled cognac, the air sticky with sweat and the kind of desperation that clung to rich kids slumming it for the night. His brother Brian was in his element, pressed against a redhead in a sequined tube top near the makeshift bar. Her laugh pierced the noise, sharp and performative, as Brian’s hand slid down her waist. Jake knew the drill: Brian would charm her, fuck her in some VIP bathroom, then ghost her by sunrise. The Reagan playbook.

"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."