From Betrayal To Brilliance: The Rise Of A Hidden Heiress
On the night of our engagement, I learned the truth-his heart still belonged to someone else, his first love.
Three years slipped by while I pretended to be ugly and a fool, helping him rise from housekeeper's son to talk of the town.
But he stood by as she accused me of theft and even sent men to ruin me.
"She stole my beloved's success. Do whatever you want with her."
For years, I had hidden behind a mask, and he probably never realized that the true heiress to a vast fortune was right before his eyes.
I stopped pretending.
When everyone mocked me, I stunned them with my real beauty. Anyone who tried to steal my work found their plans crushed. My ex tried to humiliate me, so I forced his father to kneel and apologize.
The school buzzed, trying to guess who was backing me.
My father, the richest man alive, said, "She is my daughter."
The nation's top doctor added, "No one can threaten my mentor."
The leader of a global arms syndicate took me in his arms and declared, "She is my woman."
Watching the scene as he knelt, my ex burst into tears, begging for a second chance.
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Chapter 3
Several hands lunged in her direction. Stella held her ground. When one guy rushed at her, she moved fast-blocked his arm and delivered a solid punch straight to his jaw.
The man never even managed a sound before collapsing, knocked out with a single blow.
Shock flickered through the group, but in an instant, they erupted, charging at her in a frantic rush.
Stella weaved through the chaos-she ducked one attack, then spun and landed a brutal kick right into another's ribs. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing and clutching his side. The rest hesitated, fear breaking through their boldness.
It felt unreal. Stella-quiet, invisible Stella-fighting back? Fighting like this?
She stood quietly in the aftermath, adjusting the rumpled hem of her crisp white dress, her face cool and almost indifferent.
Her eyes skimmed the group, pausing on Owen, and her lips curled into a taunting smirk.
Owen's jaw clenched. He clearly hadn't expected her to push back. Struggling to recover, he cleared his throat, voice forced and shaky. "If you want everyone's attention so badly, go ahead and flaunt that dress. Next time, just say what you need instead of embarrassing yourself for cash. Don't let this happen again."
He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing nervously at his friends groaning on the floor.
One of the students staggered up, tears streaming down his face. "Owen, don't just stand there! She attacked us!"
"Yeah, man! Are you really going to let her get away with that?"
"She always did whatever you said before. Just yell at her, and she'll fold!"
Hearing that, Owen's posture eased. Of course. In his mind, Stella was still the loyal shadow who did whatever he wanted.
"Stella," he called out smoothly, "they didn't mean any harm. You roughed them up, so it's only right for you to say sorry. Anyway, it's almost lunch. Why don't you take everyone out to eat and patch things up?"
Confident as ever, he turned his back on her and started walking, never doubting for a second that she would fall in line behind him, just like she always had.
A quiet, amused chuckle slipped from Stella's lips.
Owen wouldn't be caught dead in the cafeteria. He always insisted on fancy lunches off campus, and she was the one paying the bill every time.
Without her money, the most he could afford was a sad sandwich from a vending machine.
She had no interest in playing along anymore. Still, she remained silent and strode right past the campus gates.
A few students snickered in the background. "No surprise. She still jumps when Owen snaps his fingers."
"All that just for a scrap of Owen's attention."
Stella picked a spot and sat down at the restaurant.
Moments later, Owen strolled in, Jenna clinging to his arm, their friends trailing behind in a noisy pack. They marched straight to Stella's table, but Owen made sure to settle just far enough away to keep up appearances.
He didn't bother asking for her opinion. With a flick of his wrist, Owen took the menu that was set in front of her, tracing his finger down the options. "I'll have the foie gras, the caviar, the escargot, truffle ham, and let's add the lobster pasta," he said, all smooth confidence.
Turning to his crew, he grinned. "Order anything you want. No limits today."
His friends dove in, rattling off the priciest items without hesitation. One boy scoffed, "If she can't cover all this, she might have to wash dishes in the back. Hope you're ready, Stella."
Owen's smirk deepened, clearly entertained by the whole charade.
Soon, servers filled the table with one luxurious dish after another, silver lids lifted with a flourish. The group feasted, laughter and snide comments echoing through the restaurant.
All the while, Stella sat quietly, a study in patience, simply watching them enjoy their little performance.
When the table finally quieted, plates empty and everyone lounging in satisfaction, Stella lifted her napkin with deliberate care and wiped her hands.
Owen, lounging in his seat, waved a hand at the server. "She's picking up the tab."
The waiter placed the bill in front of Stella. Without even glancing down, she let a faint, knowing smile play across her lips.
"I didn't touch a thing," she replied, her voice calm and even. "Why would you expect me to pay for your meal?"
Owen's confidence faltered, a flush creeping up his neck. "Stella! You promised to patch things up. Isn't this how you planned to apologize? Why are you backing out now?"
She kept her tone cool and unhurried. "We just happened to choose the same restaurant. Not once did I offer to treat you."
Embarrassment deepened the color in Owen's cheeks. His mouth opened and closed, but no retort came out.
The waiter looked uncertain. "So... who's actually covering the bill, then?"
Owen stiffened, hands diving into empty pockets. He didn't have the cash-and he knew it.
His friends glanced at the bill, only to recoil in shock. The amount was enough to wipe out everything they got for the month-maybe more.
Jenna hurried to the front, her voice dripping with false pleading. "Stella, why not just pick up the tab? Owen's always treated you so well. Surely you can cover a meal."
The rest chimed in right away, "Exactly! You've been riding his coattails forever."
"All those expensive things you show off are thanks to him, and now you want to act like you're broke? Pathetic."
"Owen must have the worst luck ever, putting up with you."
Stella's laughter was sharp and joyless.
How absurd. The guy they thought was her benefactor-the same one whose school bills she paid, whose designer watches and shoes all came from her pocket, whose entire rich-boy image was her creation-sat there, letting everyone believe he'd been the generous one?
"Is that so? He claims he's spent money on me?" she said, her voice suddenly sharp and cold. "Then go ahead and ask him to pull up the proof. Let's see the bank transfers, the receipts, anything at all that shows he actually paid for something on my behalf."
With a glare, she fixed her eyes on them. "If nobody can do that, I'll have every right to drag all of you into court for defamation."
Owen's hands smacked against the table as his temper flared. He leaned in, shaking with anger. "Are you out of your mind? I'm warning you for the last time-either pay the bill right now, or we're finished. And don't come running back to me when you regret it!"
A cold, amused smile tugged at her lips. "That works just fine for me."
She lifted her head high, locking eyes with him. With deliberate emphasis, she responded, "We're done. From now on, there's nothing connecting you and me. We're finished."