
The Disowned Heiress And Her Billionaire Protector
I was the rightful heir to the Valenzuela estate, but my aunt and cousin treated me worse than a stray dog.
On a freezing rainy night, they forged documents to strip me of my trust fund and violently ordered their bodyguards to throw me out.
My cousin snatched the rosewood urn containing my mother's ashes. She smashed it onto the marble floor and maliciously ground the white powder under her stiletto heel.
When Aidan, the elderly butler who had protected me since I was a baby, tried to shield me from their assassins in the storm, he was stabbed in the back.
His hot blood poured over my hands as he died in the muddy puddle, while my aunt's men laughed and raised their blades to finish me off.
They thought I was just a nameless orphan they could easily erase.
The next day, they went to the press, branding me a degenerate thief who ran away, happily preparing to parade around at my grandfather's charity gala using my stolen wealth.
But they didn't know I was rescued from the rain by the most ruthless billionaire in New York, a man willing to burn the city down to protect me.
Staring at my pale reflection in the penthouse mirror, I took a pair of heavy silver scissors and chopped off my long hair.
"From today on, the weak girl is dead. I am Evelena Valenzuela, and I am going to make them bleed for every single thing they took."
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Chapter 7
The sky over Wall Street was a heavy, depressing gray. Inside the top floor of the Santiago Corporation headquarters, the atmosphere was just as suffocating.
Ingram sat behind a massive desk made of solid black obsidian. His face was hard. He was listening to a group of senior executives sweat through a presentation about a European merger.
Palmer walked into the room. His footsteps made no sound on the carpet. He walked up to the desk and placed a highly encrypted tablet next to Ingram's hand.
Palmer leaned down. He whispered that the security team following Miss Evelena had just transmitted live footage from the mall.
Ingram raised his right hand. He did not say a word, but the executive who was speaking stopped mid-sentence. The entire room fell completely silent. No one dared to breathe.
Ingram tapped the screen. The video from the luxury boutique started playing.
He saw Evelena on the screen. Her new short hair made her look sharp. Her eyes were focused and deadly.
When Ingram saw Felicia raise her hand to slap Evelena, his blood ran cold. His eyes darkened into a violent, murderous glare. His thumb pressed hard against the edge of the tablet.
But then, the video showed Evelena catching the wrist. It showed her twisting it. It showed her slamming the black card onto the glass counter.
The murderous look in Ingram's eyes vanished. A wave of pure, intense satisfaction washed over him.
He thought she was a broken bird. He was wrong. She was a predator learning how to use her claws.
The corner of Ingram's mouth twitched. Then, it pulled up into a full, dark smile. A low chuckle escaped his throat.
The executives standing in the room felt the hair on their arms stand up. They had worked for him for years. They had never seen the devil smile. It was terrifying.
Ingram locked the tablet. He waved his hand dismissively. He told the executives to get out and fix their garbage presentation.
The men scrambled out of the room. Ingram looked at Palmer. He ordered him to find out everything about the gala Felicia mentioned in the video.
Palmer tapped his phone. Three minutes later, he spoke. He said it was a high-society charity auction happening next week. Cathi and her family were on the guest list.
Ingram let out a cold breath. He told Palmer to call the organizers. He told him to use the Santiago name to secure the highest-level VIP invitation for the event.
Miles away, Evelena sat in a quiet corner of a cafe. She stared at a black coffee.
Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Orlaith. Orlaith asked if she was really planning to go to the charity gala next week.
Evelena typed back immediately. She said yes. That charity was her grandfather's legacy. She was not going to let Cathi parade around acting like she owned it.
Suddenly, the loud screech of heavy tires echoed outside the cafe. Three massive, black, bulletproof Maybachs pulled up to the curb, completely blocking traffic.
The people inside the cafe stopped talking. They stared out the window at the ridiculous display of wealth and power.
Four men in dark suits stepped out of the cars. They walked into the cafe and walked straight to Evelena's table.
The lead guard bowed his head slightly. He spoke loudly enough for the whole room to hear. He said, "Miss, the boss sent us to pick you up."
Evelena blinked. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew Ingram sent them. She felt the heavy stares of everyone in the cafe burning into her back.
She did not argue. She stood up smoothly, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door surrounded by the massive men.
She climbed into the back of the middle Maybach. The door shut heavily, blocking out the noise of the city. The car smelled like cedarwood and cold air. It smelled exactly like Ingram.
Palmer was sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned around and handed her a square velvet box.
Evelena took the box. She opened the lid. Inside sat a breathtaking pink diamond necklace. The stones caught the light, sparkling with a blinding intensity.
Palmer smiled politely. He repeated Ingram's exact words. "The boss says if you are going to war, you need to wear your armor."
Evelena stared at the diamonds. A strange, heavy feeling settled in her chest. Her pulse hammered in her throat. For the first time in her life, she felt a massive wall of protection standing right behind her.
She snapped the box shut. She looked out the tinted window at the passing buildings. Her jaw set in a hard line.
She was not fighting alone anymore.
The convoy sped through the streets, heading back to the penthouse. A storm was coming to the upper-class society of New York.
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9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?

7.4
For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor.
Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight.
Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah.
Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition.
Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold.
"You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud."
He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie.
He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats.
What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape.
Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself.
This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground.

7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."

7.9
In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire.
I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter.
I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm.
When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake.
I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance?
Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago.
"Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger."
My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter.
This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity.
I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.

7.1
For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.

9.1
For two years, Elena played the role of the perfect, submissive wife to her wealthy husband, Andrew Macdonald, quietly swallowing the daily insults of his elite circle to appease his family.
But using her hidden divination skills, she tracked his GPS to a dirty nightclub terrace and caught him tightly holding a fragile, crying woman, calling Elena a disposable "Appalachian hillbilly."
"The lawyers are drafting the divorce papers. Next week, she'll be out of New York for good."
Hearing Andrew promise this gently to his cheating partner, Elena stepped into the dim light, only to be met with nasty mockery from his arrogant friends, while the mistress shrank back and pretended to be an innocent victim.
Andrew glared at Elena with deep annoyance, aggressively demanding she stop embarrassing him in public and go back to the countryside, fully expecting her to break down, cry, and beg him to save their marriage.
Two years of cooking his meals, ironing his shirts, and enduring his family's cruel abuse were nothing but a sick joke to him, completely blind to the terrifying, ancient power she actually wielded.
Instead of shedding a single tear, Elena mercilessly exposed their darkest medical and financial secrets, signed the divorce papers without taking a single dime, and stepped into her new life as the untouchable master she truly was.