Claimed By The Ruthless Missing Heir
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
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Chapter 3
The heavy industrial exhaust fans in the ceiling kicked into high gear. The thick white smoke began to spiral upward, sucked through the vents.
The chaos in the hall slowly revealed itself. Guests were on their hands and knees, coughing up their lungs, their expensive clothes ruined.
Preston was holding Davina, who was sobbing beautifully into his chest. When Preston looked up and saw Charlize standing near the aisle, his face twisted into pure, unadulterated rage.
He marched toward her, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He raised his hand, ready to deliver a second, harder blow to her face.
A shadow moved.
Kavon stepped smoothly in front of Charlize. His broad shoulders completely shielded her from her father's view.
Preston's hand froze in mid-air. He looked up into Kavon's eyes and the blood drained from his face.
"Is this the standard of education in the Chen household?" Kavon's voice was dangerously low, carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel heavy. "Striking a woman in public?"
Preston swallowed hard. His arrogant posture crumbled instantly. He lowered his hand, a nervous, sweating smile stretching across his face. "Mr. Velasquez. I... I apologize you had to witness this. The girl is out of control."
Davina, sensing the shift in power, quickly stepped forward. She placed a gentle hand on Preston's arm, playing the perfect, forgiving wife. "Preston, please. Don't be angry with the child. It's my fault. I shouldn't have upset her."
Charlize peeked out from behind Kavon's solid frame. She let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Save the Oscar-winning performance, Davina. It makes me want to vomit."
Before Preston could explode again, a young man in a tailored groomsman suit pushed his way through the coughing crowd.
Juan Castillo's eyes were red. He looked at Charlize with a mixture of deep pain and desperate anger. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin.
"Charlize, stop this!" Juan pleaded, trying to yank her away from the center of the room. "Come with me!"
Kavon's eyes dropped to where Juan's hand gripped Charlize's wrist. The temperature around Kavon seemed to drop ten degrees. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently beneath his skin.
Charlize didn't want to be a spectacle for the media anymore. She used Juan's pull to break away from the suffocating heat of Kavon's protection.
She ripped her wrist out of Juan's grip. She turned on her heel and walked fast, heading straight for the staff exit that led to the underground parking garage.
Juan chased after her.
Kavon stood perfectly still. He watched her walk away. Slowly, he lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb over the cuff of his suit jacket, right where her back had pressed against him. It was still warm.
Down in the dim, concrete underground VIP garage, the air was cold and smelled of gasoline.
Juan caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, pinning her against the side of a black SUV.
"Why are you doing this?" Juan yelled, his voice echoing off the concrete pillars. "Why can't you just let my mother be happy? Why can't you compromise?"
Charlize rubbed her red wrist. She looked at him like he was a stranger. "Are you brainwashed, Juan? Or just stupid?"
Juan stepped closer, his chest almost touching hers. "If you just apologize, we can go back to how we were. I still love you, Charlie."
Charlize shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. She pressed her back flat against the cold metal of the car door.
"We are done," Charlize said, her voice dripping with venom. "The second you stood by that gold-digging mother of yours, you became my enemy."
Juan's eyes filled with frantic tears. "You're just throwing a tantrum! You can't live without me!"
The steady, rhythmic click of expensive leather shoes against concrete echoed through the garage.
The sound cut through Juan's pathetic whining.
Kavon walked out of the shadows and into the pale fluorescent light. He had both hands in his pockets. His presence was so massive, so suffocating, it made the large garage feel like a small box.
Juan took a step back, his eyes darting to the dangerous man who had protected Charlize upstairs. "Who the hell are you?" Juan demanded, trying to sound brave.
Kavon didn't even blink at him. He didn't look at Juan at all. His dark, predatory gaze was locked entirely on Charlize's annoyed face.
Charlize looked at Juan's pathetic, entitled expression. A sudden, reckless idea flared in her mind.
She pushed off the car door. Her heels clicked sharply as she walked straight toward Kavon.
Juan watched in stunned silence as Charlize stopped right next to the towering man.
Without a second of hesitation, Charlize slid her hand through the crook of Kavon's arm, pressing her body against his side.
She tilted her chin up, flashing Juan a cruel, triumphant smile. "Meet my new boyfriend, Juan."
Kavon looked down at the pale hand resting on his dark sleeve. A pitch-black, dangerous amusement swirled in his eyes. He didn't pull away. He didn't say a word.
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8.4
For twenty years, I lived as the adopted daughter of the wealthy Hill family.
But today, they forced me to sign a severance agreement and kicked me out so their precious biological daughter, Malia, could marry my fiancé.
To ruin me completely, they framed me for stealing Malia's engagement bracelet, threatening me with prison.
I calmly exposed the "sapphire" as cheap glass, then rolled up my sleeves to show the reporters my scarred, punctured arms.
For two decades, I wasn't a daughter. I was Malia's living blood and bone marrow bank.
They drained my health to keep her alive, even ordering doctors to ignore my failing organs just so she could attend a gala.
"Take this million dollars and shut your mouth," my adoptive father sneered, throwing a check at my feet.
My ex-fiancé looked at me with disgust, and Malia screamed that I was a crazy, vindictive liar.
They had stolen my life and my health, yet they still looked down on me like I was garbage.
I ripped the check into pieces and threw it in their faces.
Just as they ordered the butler to drag me out, a group of men in black suits shattered the chaos.
The heir of the untouchable Montgomery dynasty stepped through the door, ignoring the Hills' fawning, and handed me a DNA report.
I wasn't a disposable blood bag. I was the long-lost true heiress of old New York money.
And now, I was going to take back everything they stole from me.
9.5
Blaire's mother gave her a ruthless ultimatum: find a husband today, or never call her mother again.
Desperate to escape the suffocating control and disastrous blind dates, Blaire agreed to a fake marriage with a stranger she met through an old woman.
She thought she was marrying a dirt-poor salesman drowning in mortgage debt.
They lived in a rundown Queens apartment and split the living expenses fifty-fifty.
He drove a sputtering Toyota Camry, established extreme territorial rules, and treated her like a gold-digging biohazard.
When she accidentally tripped and spilled hot soup on him, he didn't help her up, instead accusing her of using pathetic tricks to seduce him.
Her own mother even crashed their apartment, ruthlessly mocking his pathetic financial state and calling him a total loser.
Blaire endured his coldness and extreme germaphobia, genuinely pitying him for his stressful, low-paying job.
She refunded his money and defended his dignity, refusing to take advantage of a struggling man.
But she couldn't understand why this supposedly broke guy possessed such a lethal, commanding aura, or why an incredibly expensive cashmere blanket mysteriously appeared on her when she was freezing on the couch.
Until her brother called with a shocking warning.
"Blaire, the name on your marriage certificate belongs to the notoriously secretive billionaire CEO of New York's top financial syndicate!"
Blaire laughed out loud, completely unaware that behind the bedroom door, her "broke" husband was frantically ordering his PR team to bury his true identity.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
8.0
My wedding was tomorrow. I was a crisis counselor who had finally found peace with my loving fiancé, Dexter, and my best friend, Barbara.
A late-night call about a forced marriage led me to a hotel penthouse, where I found them naked in bed together.
It was all a cruel, three-year "savior game." They were bored heirs, and I was their project. They destroyed my career, caused me to lose our baby, and put my mother in the hospital.
They forced me to be a bridesmaid at their wedding-the one that should have been mine.
In front of hundreds of guests, they exposed my traumatic past and then tried to marry me off to a drunken stranger as a joke.
As I stood there, broken, a text from Barbara arrived.
"Your mother saw the livestream. She had a heart attack. She's not going to make it."
With nothing left, I ran to the 20th-floor window and jumped. They thought they had erased me. But my death was just the beginning.
9.3
To escape my abusive adoptive mother selling me to a loan shark for $50,000, I rushed to City Hall to marry a blind date.
In a blind panic, I grabbed the wrong man.
He was Julian Cardenas IV, a billionaire CEO who desperately needed a fake wife to dodge a corporate arranged marriage. We signed the papers on the spot.
He became my legal shield. He moved me into his pristine penthouse and secretly protected me from my family's violent threats. When I broke down crying in the freezing cold, he quietly left me hot cocoa. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.
But then, Julian overheard me complaining to my sister about my constantly breaking-down car, groaning that I had to "get rid of this baby four times."
He thought I meant abortions.
The man who was slowly melting my frozen heart instantly turned to ice. He threw away the dinner he had specially bought for me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust and blinding rage.
I was left entirely confused and terrified. Why did my savior suddenly look at me like I was the most repulsive thing in the world? What had I done to deserve this sudden cruelty?
I thought this fake marriage was my ticket out of hell. I didn't realize I had just locked myself in a cage with a furious, ruthless CEO who now wanted to destroy me.
9.3
Charlene was locked in a Swiss asylum by the wealthy Gay family, force-fed antipsychotics until her hands shook violently.
Her adoptive brother, Columbus, dragged her out of the psych ward merely to parade her as a prop for the paparazzi.
He had locked her up to get a psychiatric evaluation, ensuring she was declared legally insane and unable to claim her massive trust fund.
The moment she returned to the estate, the torment worsened.
Her other brother, Antwan, kicked her to the ground and shattered her wrist on the gravel.
"You lost your legal rights, you stupid bitch," he sneered, while the staff blindly ignored her agony.
Her childhood bedroom was completely gutted and given to a distant cousin.
Worse, she discovered Columbus was secretly sleeping with Isabela—the fake heiress who had framed Charlene in the first place.
Every trace of her existence in the family was being violently scrubbed away.
She had lost her dignity, her health, and the baby the doctors claimed had died in the delivery room.
She couldn't understand why the family she loved hated her so viciously, stripping away everything she had.
That was until she saw a little boy in the hospital hallway, a perfect, miniature replica of her own face.
Clutching the gold-crested cufflink he dropped, she realized the asylum's doctor had stolen him.
Her baby was alive.
With her heart turned to stone, Charlene made a silent vow to crawl out of hell and burn the Gay family to the ground.