Billionaire Heiress's Humiliation: A Brother's Fury
My fiancé' s mistress hacked off my hair in the middle of Van Cleef & Arpels while he laughed on the phone.
He told her to "teach the stalker a lesson," having no idea the woman in the hoodie was actually the billionaire heiress he was arranged to marry.
Ten minutes later, my brother' s private army shut down Fifth Avenue, and I picked up the scissors to return the favor.
I had spent a year doing humanitarian work in war zones, so I arrived at the jewelry store in jeans and a worn hoodie to collect my custom engagement tiara.
Glennie Kramer, a supermodel and Ashton' s "true love," sneered at my appearance and claimed the diamonds for herself.
When I tried to stop her, she grabbed gift-wrapping scissors and violently severed my waist-length hair while the staff watched in terror.
Desperate, I called Ashton, but he mocked me as a "pauper" and authorized security to hold me down while Glennie finished the job.
They smashed my phone, thinking I was helpless.
But the call hadn't disconnected before my brother, Ason Kane, heard everything.
The King of Wall Street arrived with a fleet of armored SUVs and a rage that froze the room.
Ashton collapsed when he realized he had just assaulted the sister of the most powerful man in New York.
I walked over to the trembling supermodel, the scissors cold in my hand.
"You said a nobody doesn't deserve beautiful hair," I whispered.
I didn't just ruin their looks; I sent them to the Black Cell and erased their existence from high society forever.
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Chapter 2
Ashlynn POV:
Glennie's words hung in the air, a grotesque echo of her arrogance. I looked at the lock of my hair in her hand, then at the half-cut, uneven mess on my head. A small, dry laugh escaped me.
Glennie, mistaking my reaction for despair, puffed out her chest. "What's so funny, pauper? Realizing how completely out of your league you are?"
"No," I said, my voice dangerously soft, "I was just wondering if you could repeat that last part. The part about shaving my head."
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her face before it was replaced by renewed scorn. "Oh, you want an encore? Fine. I said, I'll shave your head. Make you look like the pathetic, ugly little rat you are. How's that for a lesson, huh?"
My smile, if you could call it that, widened. It didn't reach my eyes. "Excellent," I murmured. "Just making sure I heard you correctly." I took a step forward. "Because when my brother hears it, I want to be able to recount every word precisely."
Glennie scoffed. "Your brother? What, the guy who sends you off to play in the dirt? Ashton said he'd handle any 'family issues' that popped up. And you, honey, are a family issue."
She made a move to slap me again, her hand coming up fast, but my reflexes, honed by years of living on the edge, were faster. I sidestepped, a blur of motion. She missed, her momentum carrying her forward. Unprepared for the sudden lack of resistance, she stumbled, a high-pitched yelp escaping her lips as she tripped over her own expensive heels. She landed with an undignified thud on the plush carpet, her perfect blonde hair askew, the gift-wrapping scissors clattering beside her.
A collective gasp went through the onlookers.
"Oh my god, did you see that?" someone whispered.
"She dodged her! She actually dodged Glennie Kramer!"
"But now she's in real trouble. Glennie won't let that go."
"She just hit a supermodel! Ashton Avila will destroy her!"
I ignored the frantic whispers. My gaze remained fixed on Glennie, sprawled on the floor, her face a mask of shock and outrage. She looked ridiculous, like a fallen peacock.
They don't know who I am, I thought, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. They don't know who Ason is. They think this is the worst of it. They have no idea what's coming.
I walked over to the velvet pedestal where the sales associate, now thoroughly terrified, was still clutching my tiara. "The tiara," I said, holding out my hand. My voice was calm, steady. "And the cost."
The sales associate stammered, her eyes darting nervously between me and the still-recovering Glennie. "M-Miss Kane... I... I can't..."
"Just name the price," I interrupted, pulling out my phone and selecting the banking app. "I assure you, I can afford it."
Her hands trembling, she finally stammered out a figure. It was exorbitant, even for Van Cleef & Arpels, likely inflated by the drama. I typed in the amount, confirmed the transfer with my biometric ID, and held out my phone for her to see the confirmation.
"Done," I said. "Now, the tiara."
With shaky hands, she placed the sparkling "Starlight Bloom" tiara into my outstretched palm. The diamonds felt cool and heavy against my skin, a stark contrast to the ragged ends of my hair.
Just as I turned to leave, a furious shriek ripped through the air. "You bitch! You think you can just walk away after this?" Glennie, now on her feet, scrambled towards me, her face contorted with rage. "You're going to pay for this! Ashton will make you pay!"
"Oh, I'm sure he will," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. I glanced at her, taking in her disheveled appearance. "But right now, you just look like a desperate, untamed animal. Perhaps you should try to regain some semblance of dignity before you make any more threats."
Before Glennie could launch another incoherent assault, the heavy glass doors of Van Cleef & Arpels swung open with a dramatic flourish.
A man strode in, his presence immediately dominating the opulent space. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit that exuded power and wealth. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed, his eyes a piercing blue that swept over the scene with an almost predatory intensity. Ashton Avila. He was every bit as handsome as his magazine covers suggested, a magnetic force that drew every eye.
"Glennie, darling! What in God's name is going on here?" Ashton's voice boomed, sharp and authoritative.
Glennie, seeing her knight in shining armor, immediately burst into theatrical sobs. She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms, clinging to his expensive suit like a shipwreck survivor. "Ashton! Oh, Ashton! Thank God you're here! This... this creature!" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "She attacked me! She stole my tiara! She was screaming profanities and threatening to ruin my career! She's a monster!" Her voice was thick with fake tears, her words a tangled web of lies.
I watched, a strange sense of calm settling over me. He was truly handsome, I had to admit. A classic Wall Street face-sharp jawline, confident eyes, a smile that could charm millions. He had the kind of looks that made women fawn and rivals pause. A pity his character was so utterly bankrupt.
"Ashton," I said, stepping forward, my voice clear and steady. "It's Ashlynn Kane. Your fiancée." I held up the tiara in my hand, the diamonds catching the light. "Your brother, Ason, arranged for me to pick this up for our engagement gala."
A hush fell over the room. The onlookers, who had been whispering about Glennie' s drama, now exchanged wide-eyed glances. "Did she just say 'fiancée'?" one murmured. "Ashton Avila's fiancée?"
Ashton, who had been holding Glennie tightly, stiffened. He looked at me, then at the tiara, then back to my half-chopped hair, a flicker of confusion, then annoyance, on his face.
"Ashlynn Kane?" he repeated, his brow furrowed. He still didn't recognize me. It was clear. "What is this nonsense? I don't have a fiancée named Ashlynn Kane. My fiancée is..." He trailed off, looking at Glennie, a bewildered expression on his face.
Glennie, sensing his confusion, tightened her grip on him. "She's a lunatic, Ashton! A stalker! She's probably just made up some crazy story about being your fiancée to get attention! You told me yourself to teach her a lesson for bothering you!"
Ashton's eyes, cold and dismissive, landed on my worn clothes, then on my uneven hair. He visibly recoiled. "A stalker? Is that what this is? Good God, Glennie, did you really fall for this trick again?" He patted her arm, a condescending reassurance. "Of course, she's not my fiancée. My fiancée wouldn't look like... that."
The words hit me like a splash of ice water. Not because they hurt me personally-the Ashlynn Kane who' d seen true suffering was immune to such shallow barbs-but because they confirmed the utter hollowness of the man Ason had chosen for me. He saw only the surface, the attire, the perceived lack of status. He saw nothing beneath.
The onlookers, who had been holding their breath, now let out a collective sigh of relief, quickly replaced by a chorus of whispers.
"See? I told you she was a nobody!"
"She really thought she could trick Ashton Avila?"
"Poor Glennie, always dealing with these crazies."
"And look at her hair! She clearly needs help beyond a tiara!"
Their voices, once full of concern for Glennie, now turned to open mockery, their eyes filled with scorn. The sales associate looked relieved, as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
It was a bleak landscape of human superficiality. They judged, they scorned, they confirmed their own narrow worldview, all without a shred of understanding or curiosity. The world I had left, the one filled with pain and resilience, felt a million miles away, yet infinitely more real than this gilded cage.
"I see," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "A misunderstanding indeed. It seems I have terribly misjudged the situation." I looked at Ashton, my gaze unwavering, holding his for a long, silent moment. "Consider our 'engagement' terminated, Mr. Avila. I wouldn't wish to burden you with such a 'stalker'."
With that, I turned, the diamonds of the tiara catching the light as I moved. I didn't wait for a response. There was nothing more to say. I just needed to get out.