Secret Heir
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Selene Harts has spent her life surviving quietly. Orphaned by a tragic past and trapped in a city filled with memories rather than hope, she lives by one promise: Once I leave, I'm never coming back. Yet leaving has always felt more terrifying than staying.
Everything changes the night she saves a stranger from a fatal accident. Selene doesn't know his name, his wealth, or his power-only that he looked lost, broken, and human. Days later, after unexpectedly losing her job, she finds herself working for a private executive known only as Mr. Cole. What she doesn't know is that he is Austin Blake, a billionaire CEO hiding his identity and the dark sins of his family.
As Selene and Austin grow closer, their connection deepens into something fragile and dangerous. For the first time, Selene feels truly seen. For the first time, Austin is loved for who he is, not what he owns. But secrets never stay buried.
Selene's world shatters when she discovers Austin is engaged to another woman-Diana Rowe, a ruthless heiress driven by wealth and control. Heartbreak turns to betrayal when Selene learns Austin's family played a role in the destruction of her own family. Devastated, she walks away, determined to rebuild her life.
But Diana refuses to let her go.
Obsessed and manipulative, Diana turns Selene into a target. As Austin spirals into guilt and self-destruction, his grandmother warns him that Diana is far more dangerous than she appears. When Austin finally fights for Selene, tragedy strikes, forcing Selene to confront the truth of her feelings.
Kidnapping, betrayal, and a gunshot shatter the illusion of safety, pushing Selene and Austin to flee and start anew. Yet distance cannot erase unfinished vengeance.
Diana survives-and from the shadows, she prepares to reclaim what she believes is hers.
Will this cost Selene her life?
Secret Heir Chapter 1
Rain hammered the streets like bullets. Selene Harts cursed under her breath as her umbrella flipped inside out for the third time that night. Another late shift at BrewBucks, another coworker who "forgot" to show up. Her boots splashed through puddles on Layton Street, her shortcut home, a bad decision.
Headlights cut through the downpour.
A man staggered into the road—dark coat, head down, moving like he wanted to die. Tires screeched.
"Hey!" Selene shouted, already running before her brain caught up.
She slammed into him, shoving hard. The car whooshed past, missing them by inches. They crashed to the wet pavement in a tangle of limbs and rain-soaked clothes.
Selene's heart slammed against her ribs. "Are you insane? Who walks into traffic like that?"
The man didn't answer. Blood trickled from his temple, mixing with rainwater. Sharp jaw, dark lashes, lips parted—he looked like trouble wrapped in expensive fabric. Handsome. Reckless. And now unconscious.
"Shit." She checked his pulse—strong. Thank God. She fumbled for her phone, called an ambulance, and gave clipped answers. "Male, mid-thirties, hit by a car? No, he walked into it. Layton Street. Hurry."
Paramedics arrived fast. They lifted him onto the stretcher. One glanced at her. "You’re family?"
"No." Selene stepped back. "Just... passing by."
She turned to leave before the questions started.
A wallet had fallen from his coat pocket during the crash. She hesitated, then picked it up. Inside: cash, cards—and a name.
Austin Blake.
She froze. The name rang a distant bell—something from news headlines? Billionaire? She shoved the wallet into her jacket. Return it later. Or not. She needed the money more than he did.
She walked away, rain hiding the tremor in her hands.
She didn't know Austin Blake was already waking up in the ambulance, eyes snapping open, demanding: "The woman who saved me. Find her."
Two days later, Selene's world cracked wider.
Her manager called her into the back office. "Budget cuts. Sorry, kid. Nothing personal."
"Of course." Her voice was flat. "Never personal."
She packed her apron, walked out into the blinding sun, feeling numb. Savings? Two months, maybe. Then what?
That night, her phone buzzed—an email.
“” Subject: Immediate Position – Personal Assistant””
"We came across your resume via private referral. Selected for the executive assistant role. Competitive salary. Start tomorrow, 9 a.m. Interview at Blake Enterprises."
Selene stared. She hadn't applied anywhere. No referral. No resume sent.
Was this Fate? Or Scam?
Well, Desperation won.
She showed up anyway.
At the location, the building towered—made of glass and steel, looked like money screaming from every angle.
When she got in the receptionist barely looked up. "Selene Harts?" She said and pointed to the elevator.
She nodded and moved to the elevator.
The Elevator ride to the top floor. Smelled like power and cologne. Once she got out.
A stern man—Adam—met her. "Mr. Cole values absolute discretion above all else. You'll assist him closely. Sign the NDA first."
She skimmed it. Non-disclosure, high pay, immediate start. Weird clauses about "personal security" and "confidentiality regarding identity."
Then the door opened.
A man stood there—bandage on his temple, suit impeccable, eyes locking on hers like a predator spotting prey.
He recognized her instantly.
She didn’t recognize him.
Yet.
"Miss Harts." His voice was low, commanding. "You're hired."
Selene's stomach dropped. Something in his stare felt... familiar. Dangerous.
He stepped closer. "We have unfinished business."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Continue Reading
Secret Heir of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
8.4
To keep her grandmother on life support, Aracely was blackmailed into taking Evelyn's place in the pitch-black bedroom of the ruthless billionaire, Brennen Levine.
After that night, Evelyn tossed a hideous silicone scar at her feet, forcing Aracely to glue it to her face and work as a bottom-tier maid in his estate so he would never recognize her.
Brennen, suffering from chronic insomnia, was completely addicted to the sweet gardenia scent of the woman from the dark. But when he saw the "disfigured" Aracely scrubbing floors, he was physically repulsed, publicly humiliating her and calling her a monster.
Meanwhile, Evelyn paraded around as his soon-to-be wife. Terrified of her lies unraveling, Evelyn constantly abused Aracely, throwing scalding coffee at her face and threatening to pull the plug on her grandmother if Aracely didn't sneak back into Brennen's room to act as his human sleeping pill.
Aracely endured the suffocating fake scar, the insults, and the freezing servant quarters. She ground her teeth, swallowing the bitter injustice just to keep her only family alive, wondering when this torturous hell would ever end.
But Evelyn's malice knew no bounds. When Evelyn raised her hand to strike again, threatening to rip off the very disguise she forced Aracely to wear, something inside Aracely finally snapped.
"Do not push me."
Aracely locked her hand around Evelyn's wrist in a bone-crushing grip, completely unaware that Brennen was watching from the balcony above, his dark eyes narrowing as a dangerous realization hit him.
7.5
While packing up her cheating ex-boyfriend's belongings, Giselle found an encrypted black smartphone hidden beneath his old textbooks.
Curiosity made her guess the passcode, only to uncover a horrifying secret.
Her ex had been using stolen lingerie photos of her beautiful roommate to catfish a man named "Oero" out of $1.5 million.
And Oero wasn't just a gullible sugar daddy. He was Dereck Campos, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire known for making his enemies permanently disappear.
The phone suddenly buzzed in her hand with a terrifying message.
"Don't be late. You know what happens when I'm kept waiting."
Giselle's blood ran cold. The lethal trap had snapped shut.
If she showed up, Dereck would see she wasn't the blonde in the photos and kill her.
If she ignored him, his private security would hunt her down anyway.
Her ex had drained the offshore accounts and fled, leaving her as the ultimate scapegoat to face a monster's wrath.
She was just a broke engineering student on a full scholarship.
She hadn't taken a single cent of that dirty money. Why should she pay with her life for a deadly scam she knew nothing about?
But Giselle wasn't going to just curl up and wait to die.
Her analytical mind kicked into overdrive. She sent him a voice note faking a severe illness, and deliberately refused his massive cash transfer to play the proud victim.
She was going to outsmart the most dangerous predator in New York, one calculated lie at a time.
9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
8.0
Elva used a spare key card to quietly enter the hotel penthouse, only to find her boyfriend of two years panting heavily on the king-sized bed with her own cousin.
Instead of showing remorse, her cousin shamelessly mocked her background, while her ex aggressively lunged at her to destroy the photographic evidence she had just captured.
"You think you can just walk away? Warren already made the deal. By next week, you're being shipped off to marry that fifty-two-year-old crippled freak from the Ramirez family!"
Her ex spat the words to threaten her, and the nightmare only escalated when Elva returned to her uncle's estate, where Warren confirmed he was indeed selling her off for a business connection.
Her family eagerly joined the abuse, threatening to permanently freeze her late mother's trust fund and even plotting to secretly drug her morning milk so she couldn't fight back when the groom's family arrived.
They looked at her like a pathetic, orphaned burden they could bleed dry, fully expecting her to drop to her knees, cry, and accept her miserable fate without a single word of defiance.
But they had no idea that just hours ago, Elva had already signed a marriage certificate with Bronson Ramirez, the undisputed billionaire king of the dynasty, and she was stepping into the living room ready to watch their greedy world burn.
9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
![[Dubbed Version] Forced In: Love and Hate](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/fa99f0e65145403705295514399/DGaeSsfK9BMA.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
