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Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret Novel Cover

Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret

For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk. The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for. "You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip." My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father. I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth. But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move. "Get dressed. We're going to a party."
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Chapter 5

The sky was a bruised purple when Aria woke. She moved silently, slipping into a pair of nondescript sweatpants she'd bought from a street vendor the night before. Her back throbbed-a dull, grinding ache from the old fracture-so running was out of the question. Instead, she walked with a rapid, predatory pace, mapping the neighborhood, identifying exit routes and blind spots while the city slept.

She stopped at a bagel shop on the corner. She bought a dozen assorted bagels and two large coffees. She paid with a debit card linked to a shell company, untraceable to the Carlisle estate.

When she walked back into the apartment, Susan was staring into the empty refrigerator with a look of despair.

Aria placed the bag on the table. The smell of fresh yeast and coffee filled the room.

Susan turned, her eyes widening. "Oh, honey, you didn't have to... that's expensive."

"The owner gave me a discount," Aria lied smoothly. "End of the morning rush."

Toby stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He saw the bagels and gasped. "Everything bagel!"

Aria smiled. "I need to go to the store for some basics. Toby, want to come?"

Susan hesitated, then reached into a jar on the counter. She pulled out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. It was soft with age.

"Get some milk," she said. "And maybe some soap."

Aria took the bill. It felt heavier than the black card she had thrown away. She folded it reverently and put it in her pocket.

The street was bustling. Aria held Toby's hand. His palm was sticky and warm. He pointed at everything.

"Look! Candy apples!"

A street vendor was dipping apples into bright red sugar syrup. Toby's eyes tracked the glistening fruit with pure longing.

Aria stopped. "Two, please."

She paid with the loose change in her own pocket. Toby took the apple, his face lighting up like he'd been handed a diamond. He took a bite, red sugar coating his lips immediately.

They walked past an art supply store. Toby stopped again. He pressed his face against the glass, staring at a set of Copic markers displayed on a velvet stand. He didn't ask for them. He knew better. He just looked, tracing the shapes with his finger on the glass.

Aria memorized the brand.

Inside the supermarket, it was chaos. People pushed and shoved. Aria navigated the aisles with military precision, selecting items that were on sale to keep up the charade.

They reached the checkout line. Just as Aria was about to put her basket down, three guys in oversized hoodies cut in front of her. They laughed, ignoring the line of people behind them.

The cashier, a young girl, looked down, too scared to speak.

Aria felt Toby stiffen beside her. He gripped her hand tighter.

Aria tapped her fingers on the handle of the shopping cart. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. A rhythm to slow her heart rate, to keep the violence contained.

She stepped forward. She didn't raise her voice. She lowered it.

"The line starts back there."

The leader of the group turned slowly. He had a scar over his eyebrow and a sneer practiced in the mirror.

"What did you say, bitch?"

Aria looked him in the eyes. She didn't blink. She projected a sudden, terrifying emptiness. It was the look of someone who had seen things that would make this street thug wet his pants.

"I said, get in line."

The air between them dropped ten degrees. The thug's sneer faltered. His instincts, primal and warning, screamed at him that he had made a mistake. He saw the way she stood-balanced, ready.

He muttered something under his breath, spat on the floor, and jerked his head at his friends. They moved to the back of the line.

Toby looked up at her, his mouth open.

"You're like a superhero," he whispered.

"Just manners, Toby."

On the walk back, Toby chewed on the last of his apple.

"Leo cried last night," he said suddenly.

Aria looked down. "What?"

"After you went to sleep. He was holding Vanessa's picture. He misses her."

Aria felt a pang of sympathy. Not for Vanessa, but for the boy who had been manipulated by her.

When they got home, Aria handed Susan the change. Every penny.

Susan looked at the candy apple stick in Toby's hand, then at the groceries. She didn't ask where the extra money came from. She just squeezed Aria's shoulder.

Aria went to her room. She pulled out her phone.

A text from Nate: [Carlisle Legal just froze your trust. You have zero access to the family accounts. They're trying to starve you out.]

Aria typed back: [Let them try. I don't like owing people anyway.]

She smiled, a cold, sharp expression.

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