The Divorced Heiress Takes The Crown
On our fourth wedding anniversary, I prepared a perfect home-cooked dinner for my husband, Carlisle.
But the moment he walked in, he threw a marital settlement agreement right onto the table.
"Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore."
His mother and sister immediately marched in to supervise my packing, calling me a barren gold-digger and trying to smash my late mother's only keepsake.
I signed the papers and walked out into the freezing night, thinking the nightmare was finally over.
But the next day, a heavily edited video of a childhood friend helping me into his car went viral online.
Carlisle's PR team released a public statement branding me a cheating wife, completely destroying my reputation.
He let the world tear me apart, using my ruined name to play the victim and justify bringing his first love home.
I had sacrificed my own dreams and endured his family's endless abuse for four years, only to be discarded like trash and framed for the exact emotional cheating he had been doing all along.
Watching the vile comments flood my screen, my heartbreak hardened into pure, unbreakable ice.
I calmly picked up my phone and dialed my father's number.
"Dad, it's time. I want to come home and take over Mcneil Industries."
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Chapter 8
Camilla walked into her temporary apartment and threw her purse onto the cheap sofa.
She walked over to the small window and stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline. The humiliation from Stark Tower still burned in her veins, but it was no longer pain. It was pure, highly combustible fuel.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed her father's number. Her voice was steady and hard.
"Dad, it's time. I want to come home. And I want to take over Mcneil Industries."
Donnie was silent for two heavy seconds. When he spoke, his voice was thick with pride and relief.
"It's about time, my girl. I've been waiting for this call. Come to the Hamptons tomorrow. We'll make the announcement."
The next morning, Camilla drove her car up the long, tree-lined driveway of the Mcneil Estate in the Hamptons. The massive stone mansion looked exactly the same. It gave her a brief sense of comfort, but her stomach tightened knowing who was waiting inside.
Bridget O'Malley, the elderly housekeeper, was waiting on the front steps. When she saw Camilla, tears welled up in her eyes.
"Miss Camilla! Welcome home!" Bridget cried. "Your father is in his study."
Camilla gave Bridget a tight hug. She didn't waste any time. She walked straight down the hall and pushed open the heavy oak doors to the study.
Donnie was standing by the window. He looked older, his hair greyer, but his eyes were sharp.
He didn't bother with small talk. He walked over to his desk and picked up a thick leather folder.
"I've drafted the press release and the board proposal," Donnie said, handing it to her. "You'll be appointed as the interim CEO, effective immediately. I've called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning to formalize the succession. We are going to force their hand."
Camilla took the folder. Her fingers trembled slightly against the leather, but her eyes were fierce.
"Thank you, Dad. I won't let you down."
Right at that moment, the study doors swung open.
Evelin Velasquez, Camilla's stepmother, walked in. Jalyn Santana, her stepsister, trailed right behind her. Evelin wore a nasty, mocking smirk. Jalyn's eyes were burning with raw jealousy.
"Well, well, the prodigal daughter returns," Evelin sneered. "And after such a scandal too. Donnie, are you sure this is wise? Putting the company in the hands of a woman with such... reputation issues?"
Jalyn immediately chimed in, her voice high and whiny.
"Yeah, Dad! The tabloids are saying she's a cheater! That'll ruin Mcneil's image! I should be the one taking over! I've been working here for years!"
Camilla didn't even look at them. She kept her eyes locked on her father, waiting.
Donnie's face turned bright red with anger. He slammed his hand down on the desk.
"This is my decision," Donnie barked. "Camilla is my daughter and the rightful heir. Her personal life is none of your concern."
Evelin crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "But the board will never-"
"The board will do as I say," Donnie cut her off sharply. "Now, leave us. Camilla and I have work to do."
Evelin scoffed. She grabbed Jalyn's arm and pulled her out of the room. Jalyn stopped at the door, turning back to shoot Camilla a look of pure, toxic hatred.
Camilla watched the door click shut. She turned back to her father.
"They won't give up easily, Dad. I need to be prepared."
Donnie nodded heavily. "I know. Arthur Pembroke, my assistant, will help you with the transition. And remember, your talent is your best weapon. Show them what you can really do."
Camilla took a deep breath. A fire ignited in her chest.
"I will. I'll prove to everyone-Carlisle, the Starks, and the whole world-that I'm not just someone's wife or ex-wife. I'm Camilla Mcneil, and I'm taking back what's mine."
Four hours later, Mcneil Industries dropped a massive press release. Donnie Mcneil was stepping down due to health reasons. Camilla Mcneil was appointed as the interim CEO, pending the formal board vote the following day. The release noted that an emergency shareholder and board meeting was convened to formalize her permanent succession.
The internet exploded for the second time in two days. The comments were a warzone. Half the people mocked the "cheating ex-wife" trying to play boss. The other half were dying to see what the mysterious Mcneil heiress would do.
Across the city in Stark Tower, Carlisle stared at the news article on his computer screen. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. A weird, uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut. He was shocked. He was suspicious. And deep down, in a place he refused to acknowledge, he was intrigued.
Celine leaned over his shoulder. She read the screen and gasped. She dug her nails into Carlisle's arm.
"Carlisle, this is bad!" Celine cried. "If Camilla takes over Mcneil, she'll have the power to come after us! She hates me!"
Carlisle placed his hand over hers. His voice was cold and calculating.
"She won't have the chance. Mcneil Industries is a major client of Stark Enterprises. If she tries anything, I can crush her."
Meanwhile, back at the Mcneil Estate, Jalyn was tearing her bedroom apart. She grabbed a crystal perfume bottle and smashed it against the wall.
"It's not fair!" Jalyn screamed. "It should be me! I won't let her get away with this!"
Evelin walked into the room. She looked at the broken glass and sighed.
"Calm down, Jalyn. Screaming won't help. We need a plan. And I think I know just the person who might want to help us... and hurt Camilla."
Jalyn stopped screaming. She wiped her red eyes. "Who?"
Evelin smiled wickedly. "Celine Mills. The woman who took Camilla's husband. The enemy of my enemy..."
Jalyn's eyes lit up. A cruel smile spread across her face. "Yes... Celine. She must hate Camilla too. We can work together."
On the other side of town, Cristobal West sat in his office. He read the headline on his tablet. A soft, proud smile touched his lips. He picked up his phone and dialed her number.
"Camilla, congratulations," Cristobal said softly. "I knew you could do it. And remember, whatever you need, I'm here."
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7.4
I single-handedly saved my family's corporate empire from a hostile takeover, securing our market share for the next decade.
But my grandfather didn't see me as a hero. He saw me as a flawed piece of inventory.
To calm the board and fix the reputation I supposedly ruined, he forced me into an arranged marriage, auctioning me off to the highest bidder.
Desperate, I turned to my childhood friend, Egnacio, the only person who ever promised to protect me.
But instead of saving me, he publicly humiliated me. He used my desperation as a networking opportunity, pitching my arranged marriage as a business deal to a ruthless private equity king named Dexter Mathews.
Later that night, I caught Egnacio holding my cruel cousin in his arms.
"What man wants to be with a woman who looks at you like she's planning a hostile takeover?"
Hearing him mock my pain shattered the last bit of hope I had.
I realized I was never family to them. I was just a sharp knife, used to cut down their enemies and then traded for cash before I got dull.
The heartbreak vanished, replaced by a cold, violent rage.
I didn't break, and I didn't run.
Instead, I got into the back of Dexter Mathews's car. He had watched my family tear me apart, but he didn't see a broken pawn. He saw a queen.
And together, we were going to burn their entire empire to the ground.
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.3
Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse.
8.3
For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground."
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
7.6
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.