My 80-Year-Old Grandma Was the True Heiress
On Christmas Eve, the snow fell in relentless sheets.
My grandmother and I were cast out into the snow as if we were nothing by my uncle.
My aunt cursed me as a bad luck charm, while my uncle's boot landed fiercely in my chest.
I knelt in the freezing snow, clutching my grandmother's body as it grew cold, my nails digging into my flesh, convinced that death awaited us tonight.
Suddenly, the blinding headlights cut through the night.
A convoy of Rolls-Royce cars, bearing diplomatic plates, silently blocked the entrance to the rundown neighborhood.
The elderly butler strode directly to my grandmother, who had been "blind" for forty years, and knelt on one knee, "Your Highness, forgive us for arriving so late."
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Chapter 2
The convoy came to a smooth halt. Twelve men in black stepped out in perfect formation and opened the doors in unison.
An elderly man with silver hair, dressed in a tailcoat, stepped out of the lead car.
In the cramped, filthy alley of the slum, he dropped to one knee without hesitation, the fabric of his trousers pressing straight into the dirty snow.
"Her Highness, the esteemed Grand Princess of the Hawthorne family," he said in a clear, resonant voice, every word heavy with unquestionable respect. "I have arrived late. You have suffered."
His words hit like a thunderclap.
Victor and Denise looked as though they had been struck by lightning.
Their mouths hung open. Whatever Denise had been holding clattered to the ground in a messy spill.
The disgust, contempt, and impatience they had worn on their faces for years twisted within a single second into ridiculous shock, then melted into something even more nauseating—groveling flattery.
"Oh my goodness!" Denise shrieked and scrambled into the snow, nearly tripping over herself. "I always said Elizabeth was extraordinary! What are you all standing there for? Help her up!"
She barked orders at the bodyguards while reaching out, eager to support Elizabeth herself.
"Get out of the way!" Victor shoved her aside, sending her stumbling. "You were the one who insisted on pushing Mom out just now!"
His face flushed red as he forced a smile at Elizabeth.
"Mom, I'm sorry I was late. That shrew disturbed you."
I watched the performance coldly, nausea rising in my throat.
"Have you no shame?" Denise snapped, losing all composure in front of the bodyguards. "Who was it that stole Elizabeth's money to gamble last month? Now you're pretending to be the devoted son? Too late!"
"Shut up!" Victor's face turned ashen as he raised his hand, ready to strike.
I stood to the side, a faint, mocking smile curving my lips.
This was what they called family. In the face of poverty, they were wolves.
In the presence of power, they were dogs wagging their tails.
Elizabeth coughed softly.
With Alfred Wexley, the butler, and two bodyguards supporting her, she slowly rose to her feet, trembling slightly as though overwhelmed by the spectacle before her.
Alfred bowed slightly. "Her Highness, the car is ready. Please."
Elizabeth did not move at once. Instead, she turned her gaze toward Victor and Denise.
They fell silent instantly, terrified that a single word from her would banish them.
"Let them come with us."
Elizabeth's voice sounded frail yet gentle, as though age had softened her mind. "After all… it was thanks to their 'care' these past years that we didn't end up dead on the streets."
At her words, Victor and Denise nearly burst with joy.
"Thank you, Mom! You're a saint!"
"I knew you loved us the most!"
They trembled with excitement, scrambling toward the extended Rolls-Royce as if afraid the opportunity might vanish.
Supporting Elizabeth, I helped her into the car and climbed in after her.
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9.5
"Do you know what marriage is?" Evelyn asked with a raised brow.
"Marriage is 'I do' and 'you do', then boom, children come in anytime they want," Drake replied with a cute smile.
"How do children come in?" She asked knowingly.
"Man and a woman call them," he replied foolishly.
"How do they call them?" She probed.
"Just like this..." He placed his phone to his ear.
"I already forgot that it's useless talking to you," Evelyn got annoyed and walked away
***
Twenty years old Evelyn Brown was forced to marry the son of the richest man in the country, Drake Valentino.
She thought her life was perfect, not until she was forced to get married to a man she barely knows because of money.
Evelyn had thought the arranged marriage wasn't bad as her groom was a handsome young man from a rich family, just like hers until she entered the marriage.
She was shocked into disbelief when she realized her husband wasn't as normal as she thought he was, he was a complete... Moron!
8.8
I only needed the job.
I didn't expect the man who owned the building... to own my future.
When my world falls apart, I accept a one-year contract as the personal assistant to Grey Franklin-cold, powerful, and dangerously irresistible. He has rules. No emotions. No attachments. No crossing lines.
But lines blur when late nights turn into stolen glances... and his carefully controlled world begins to crack.
He says love is a weakness.
I say some things can't be bought.
In a world of money, secrets, and power, falling for a billionaire was never part of the deal-
but walking away might cost us everything.
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.
8.9
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.
9.5
Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire.
But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth.
"The problem is solved."
A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place.
For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund?
But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down.
"I refuse."
Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun.
8.6
After five brutal years of war between the Italian La Famiglia De Luca and the Mexican La Mano Roja, Capo Ivan De Luca seeks a desperate alliance with Russia's feared Bratva, led by the ruthless Pakhan Sergei Morozov.
The Pakhan agrees-but demands a price: a marriage between his heir, Mikhail Morozov, and one of Ivan's daughters. Reluctantly, Ivan accepts, knowing the union could save his famiglia.
Mikhail, a half-Russian, half-Cuban heir forged in violence, believes emotion is weakness and mercy a sin. Donatella De Luca, Ivan's sharp-tongued and fearless second daughter, is the last woman who'd bow to any man-least of all a Bratva heir.
When Sergei chooses Donatella as the bride, a dangerous game of loyalty, power, and forbidden attraction begins. As war brews and alliances shift, Donatella must decide if she can survive Mikhail's cold world-or melt the heart of the devil himself.