Lost Heiress of the Belfort Brothers
"Adrian, why would you lie to me? Why would you let her push my mum like that?"
Yvonne's voice trembled, holding back tears.
Adrian smirked. "Wake up, Yvonne. You really thought I wanted you when Tricia was right here?"
That was how Adrian-her first crush, the boy she thought cared-chose to humiliate her in front of everyone as she was the cleaner's adopted daughter.
But fate had other plans.
Because the Diamond Belfort brothers-the heirs everyone adored were coming to their school in search of their missing heiress- baby sister. But the queen bee steals the chance that should have been hers. Then again, secrets don't stay buried forever. With her true identity waiting to explode, Yvonne must decide to rise from the ashes, claim her place, and bring down everyone who tried to destroy her.
Because the real heiress doesn't beg.
She takes rather.
Now, Yvonne is done playing small. It's her time to rise, reclaim her crown, and make everyone regret ever doubting her.
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Chapter 5
Yvonne's POV
As soon as we got to the gymnasium, the noise inside could've shaken the ceiling. Everyone was already seated, whispering, buzzing, bouncing on their chairs like we were about to witness the arrival of actual royalty. The principal tapped her mic, clearing her throat until the place quieted down a little. Then she smiled wide, like she had the juiciest news of the decade.
"Students," she began, her voice echoing across the gym, "please join me in welcoming Gentle, Jack, and Bobby Belfort, heirs to the Belfort fortune, who have generously donated a brand-new wing to this high school."
The principal clapped like she'd just announced world peace, and the whole place erupted in applause. Some kids whistled, some stomped their feet. A girl behind me squealed so loud I thought she might faint.
"Yes, amazing, right?" the principal beamed, soaking in the cheers. "And that's not all. They have gifted each of you with a brand-new iPad."
Gasps and shouts broke out everywhere. Teachers moved down the aisles, handing out shiny boxes. The sound of cardboard being ripped open was almost louder than the clapping.
"I'm never doing homework on paper again!" a boy shouted two rows ahead.
Another chimed in, "Do you think they'll give us free Wi-Fi too?" The place dissolved into laughter and chatter.
"Students!" the principal said, raising her hands. "On that note, I expect you all to show them the respect they deserve."
That was it. The tension snapped back like a stretched rubber band. All eyes glued themselves to the entrance of the gymnasium, the doors like a stage curtain about to lift and the buzz in the air felt almost electric.
And then-they walked in.
The double doors swung open, and Gentle, Jack, and Bobby Belfort strode inside like they had been trained for this moment their whole lives. Their walk was slow, confident, perfectly in sync, like the floor belonged to them. All neck tilted, jaws dropped, and eyes widened as they crossed the aisle. You could practically feel the room holding its breath. Each one of them had that kind of presence you only see in glossy magazine covers-their suits were adorably fitted and their hair styled like it had been blessed by Hollywood itself.
The cheers rose, bouncing off the gym walls. Tricia, especially, was impossible to ignore. She was bouncing in her seat like a toddler on a codeine diet. Her squeals pierced the air, her hands clutching her chest dramatically. And I am quite sure that if someone handed her a fan right then, she would have fainted into it.
When the noise simmered down, the tallest of the brothers stepped forward, his voice smooth but heavy with meaning. "I know you all must be wondering why we chose to come here. Fifteen years ago, our baby sister disappeared."
The gym fell into complete silence, the kind where you could hear a pin drop. "We vowed not to rest until we found her, chasing every lead and never giving up. Now, we finally know where she is, and that is why we are here."
Another brother, the one with sharper features, added, "We have come to bring her home. To bring her back to the family where she belongs."
The third spoke next, his lips curving into a smile that sent more gasps through the girls in the room. "She would be sixteen by now. Blond hair. Outrageously attractive, just like her brothers." The arrogance in his tone made a few kids giggle, but no one dared say anything.
And then the first brother raised his hand, pulling back his sleeve. My stomach tightened instantly. "Most importantly, she has a bracelet. One like this."
Together, all three of them lifted their wrists. Three identical bracelets glittered under the gym lights. And at the moment, it was like my lungs stopped working.
"Oh my God." The words tumbled out of my mouth in the faintest whisper, meant for no one but myself. My fingers trembled on my lap. "That looks exactly like my bracelet."
The first brother spread his arms, gaze sweeping the crowd. "Sis, wherever you are, come on up here. We are waiting for you. Anyone?"
The gym rippled with whispers, heads turning and searching. My chest pounded so hard it hurt. Could it be me? Could I actually be the missing Belfort heiress? My bracelet... it was the only clue I ever had. But now it was gone, stolen by Tricia. My throat burned with panic.
And then, before I could think, my body moved on its own. I rose halfway from my seat, with legs shaking and my knees threatening to buckle. But just as I found the courage to steady myself, a hard shove hit me from behind.
"Shift! Get out of my way, trash." The venom in her voice cut through me.
I stumbled forward, catching myself on the edge of the seat in front. My eyes darted up-and of course, it was her-Tricia. Who else? Her smirk said it all as she strutted down the aisle.
No. Please no.
"Brothers!" she screamed, fake joy spilling out of her like bad perfume. Her arm shot up, flashing a bracelet. My bracelet. The one she ripped from me. My stomach dropped to the floor.
The brothers' faces lit up, unguarded excitement softening their sharp features. "Baby sis!" they shouted in unison, arms opening wide to her.
She launched herself at them, squealing and wriggling like a child reunited with candy. "Brothers!" she cried again, her voice so high-pitched it hurt. She clung to them, milking the moment, tears she didn't have shimmering in her eyes.
"Baby sis, we finally found you. You must have dealt with so much," one of them said, his voice dripping with sympathy.
"Yeah, it's been a trial," she replied quickly, almost sounding like she had it all rehearsed. "But you're here now. And that's all that matters."
Her words were fake, hollow, but nobody seemed to notice. All the students gushed, sighing like they were watching a movie scene.
"Oh my gosh, she's their sister."
"Can you believe it? Tricia Belfort!"
"Her life just changed forever."
I sat frozen, my hands balled into fists so tight my nails dug into my skin. This can't be happening. How could they fall for this? Couldn't they see the way her eyes sparkled a little too much, the way her voice cracked in all the wrong places?
But the brothers only leaned in closer. "We want to spoil you after all these years. So of course, we brought presents. We tried to guess what you'd want, but in the end, we decided to bring everything."
The doors at the side of the gym opened. A line of attendants rolled in racks of glittering clothes-dresses sparkling under the lights, rows of designer shoes gleaming like treasures. Jewelry cases clicked open, dazzling gems shining all over the space. Pictures flashed on the projector and at the lineup that could make anyone dizzy.
"The Belfort family presents," one of the brothers declared proudly, "a new wardrobe straight from the runways of Miami, ten luxury cars to suit every mood, and unrestricted access to the Belfort family jet."
The gym exploded in the other students' cheers here and there.
"Ten cars?!"
"I'd take one! Just one!"
"Imagine having a family jet. Forget college, I'd just fly everywhere."
Tricia's smile stretched so wide it looked painful. "I am just so excited to finally reunite with my family," she said, clutching her chest like she was overwhelmed with love.
I couldn't take it anymore. Anger bubbled in me like lava, threatening to spill over. Every laugh, every cheer for her made me want to scream. But another scene? More humiliation? My chest tightened. No. Not today. Maybe it was better to stay quiet, to swallow the pain and walk away.
So I stood, forcing my legs to move, heading for the exit while everyone else was lost in Tricia's performance. Maybe disappearing would hurt less than watching her steal everything.
But then-
"Yvonne." My mom's voice stopped me at the doors. She had somehow found me, her face pale but determined. Her words pierced straight through my panic. "But the bracelet is yours. It was the only thing on you when I found you as a baby. And that was exactly 15 years ago."
I froze. My head spun. "Mum... I think it must be a mistake. Or... or something. I can't be the Belfort heiress." My voice shook, barely above a whisper.
Her gaze hardened. "Yvonne. You didn't spend your whole life wondering where you came from just to back down now. You know the truth."
My chest rose and fell fast, the truth colliding with the lies in my head. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. She was right. Deep down, I knew it. I knew it from the first second I saw their bracelets. From the way my heart nearly leapt out of me. From the emptiness I'd carried all my life.
I couldn't let Tricia steal what was mine. Not this time.
A boldness I didn't recognize surged through me. My legs moved, strong and steady now. I turned back toward the center of the gymnasium, toward the brothers, the crowd, and Tricia's lies.
It was time to step into the light.
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9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.
9.7
For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace.
Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door.
The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own.
My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table.
"Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered.
My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate.
They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal.
I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for.
I didn't scream, and I didn't cry.
I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods.
Let them see how long they survive without my money.
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
7.0
My chest tightened with anticipation, five years of shared struggle culminating in this moment at the Manhattan penthouse banquet. But Chace, my partner, didn't look at me; he turned to Karyn, sliding his family's heirloom emerald ring onto her finger. Then, his voice echoed through the hall, dismissing me as "nothing but an asset under my name to provide entertainment."
My smile froze, the room erupted in laughter, and a cruel kick sent me sprawling, spraining my ankle on the cold marble floor. Karyn mocked me, but it was Chace’s icy gaze that truly shattered me. He dismissed our past, threatening my mother’s grave and my father’s life if I didn't "stay in your place and be an obedient dog."
The man I bled for, starved for, fought for, was a complete stranger, a monster veiled in cold disdain. My heartbreak bled out, replaced by a reckless, destructive madness. This wasn't just humiliation; it was an execution.
Retreating to the lavish restroom, my mind sharpened. I unblocked a forbidden number, a name whispered with terror in the New York underground: Keith Mosley. My text was brief: "I am ready to pay my debt." His reply flashed, stark and dominant: "The price is marriage." This wasn't a price; it was my knife.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
7.7
I trusted the wrong people in my past life.
My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die.
But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me.
In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were.
Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished.
I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt.
When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, Scarlett!"
This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go.