Broken Engagement: The True Heiress Returns
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
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Chapter 8
The night of the Sterling charity gala arrived.
Nora stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom. The Schiaparelli gown fit her perfectly. The gold embroidery caught the light, making her look like a relic of a forgotten era-a princess from a painting, brought to life.
She walked down the grand staircase.
The family was waiting in the foyer. Edward was checking his phone. Catherine was adjusting her diamonds. Olivia was standing in a pale blue Dior gown, looking impatient.
They all looked up.
Edward stopped checking his phone. Catherine's hand froze on her necklace. Olivia's mouth fell open.
Nora descended the stairs with a slow, measured grace. The gown shimmered with every step. Her hair was styled in a simple, elegant updo that highlighted her neck and cheekbones. She wore no jewelry except for a pair of simple gold drops.
She looked stunning. She looked powerful. She looked like she owned the place.
Olivia's face flushed with jealousy. She had planned to outshine Nora, but now she felt like a background character in Nora's portrait.
Catherine felt a mix of emotions. Pride-because she had bought the dress, and it was a triumph of her taste. And resentment-because the dress looked better on Nora than it ever would have on Olivia.
Edward just looked uncomfortable. He didn't like things he couldn't control, and right now, Nora looked uncontrollable.
He walked over to her, pulling her aside by the elbow. "Listen to me," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Tonight is about business and reputation. You will smile. You will be polite. And you will keep your mouth shut. Do not cause trouble."
Nora looked at his grip on her arm, then up at his face. "I understand, Father."
He released her, satisfied.
The drive to the Sterling estate was tense. The limousine was silent. Olivia tried to make conversation, but Catherine was brooding and Edward was staring out the window.
Nora sat quietly, observing the passing landscape. She was mentally preparing for the battlefield.
They arrived at the Sterling manor. It was even larger than the Beaumont estate. Flashbulbs went off like strobe lights as the town car pulled up to the red carpet.
The doors opened.
Edward stepped out first. He turned and looked at Nora, his eyes cold and calculating. "Remember what I said," he murmured, his voice too low for the cameras to hear. "You are a Beaumont tonight. Act like it." Then, his expression shifted into a practiced, paternal smile as he offered her his hand.
This was unexpected. Olivia tried to step forward, but Catherine held her back. Edward was making a calculated move. The "return of the true heiress" was a hot story, and he intended to exploit it for maximum PR value.
Nora stepped out of the car, her hand resting lightly on Edward's. The crowd gasped. The cameras went wild.
"Eleanora! Over here!"
"Miss Beaumont! Are you engaged to Connor Sterling?"
Nora stood tall, her expression serene. She didn't flinch from the lights or the shouting. She looked like she had been born to this.
Olivia was forced to walk behind them, sandwiched between Catherine and the publicist. She was seething.
Inside the ballroom, the scene was glittering and loud. A live orchestra played. Champagne flowed like water.
Olivia immediately detached herself from the family and dove into the crowd, greeting her friends with air kisses and practiced smiles.
Edward went off to talk business with a group of men in suits.
Catherine went to hold court with the other society wives.
Nora was left alone.
She walked to the edge of the room and found a quiet corner. She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray and watched.
She wasn't hiding. She was observing. She watched who spoke to whom. She watched the power dynamics. She watched the alliances and the rivalries.
To the casual observer, she looked like a wallflower. Out of place. Awkward.
But on the second-floor balcony, hidden behind a glass partition, Julian Sterling was watching her.
He saw the way her eyes tracked the room. He saw the stillness of her posture. She wasn't scared. She was calculating.
He had seen that look before-in the eyes of generals and kings. It was the look of someone who saw the board three moves ahead.
He took a sip of his scotch. He was intrigued.
Downstairs, Olivia was whispering to a group of her friends. She pointed toward Nora's corner.
Cordelia Prescott, a tall blonde with a sharp face, laughed. "Watch this," she mouthed to Olivia.
The group of girls moved across the ballroom like a pack of wolves, their sights set on the girl in the gold dress.
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8.0
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.
9.7
I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.
8.2
Trapped in a deadly fire at my own engagement party, my lungs burned as I reached a shaking hand out to my fiancé for help.
He stopped and looked right at me through the thick smoke. But instead of saving me, he wrapped his jacket tightly around my stepsister and ran, leaving me to burn.
I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, my father and stepmother didn't even ask about my injuries.
They threw a stack of legal documents right onto my bed.
"Sign the papers, Avah. Step aside. Jaclyn is far better suited to be Kain's wife."
My fiancé then stormed into the room, publicly humiliating me with false rumors of an illegitimate child and threatening to bankrupt my company.
Four years of swallowing my pride to be the perfect, obedient pawn for our family business, all for nothing.
They threw me to the wolves without a single second of hesitation, expecting me to just lower my head and cry like I always did.
But the fire had burned that pathetic version of me away.
I ripped out my IV, letting the blood drip onto the sheets, and tore their contracts straight down the middle.
"The engagement is over."
I threw my million-dollar ring right at my ex's chest, then picked up the phone to call my trust lawyer. They wanted to take everything from me, so I was going to make them bleed.
9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?
9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
9.5
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world.
But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom.
"You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch.
As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father.
He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
"The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny."
That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose.