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The Untouchable Heiress He Regrets Losing Novel Cover

The Untouchable Heiress He Regrets Losing

“How can you do this to me, Zane?!” I ask in a heartbroken and devastated tone as tears roll down my cheeks in torrents.  “I stood by your side when everyone else left you! Hell, I donated my skin to you!” I say in a frantic tone as I try desperately to understand the reasons behind his actions.  “Stop being pathetic, Zara. You have lost the one thing that made you useful: your beauty, and in turn, your modelling career. The only woman who can secure my inheritance is Elora. You were only good while you lasted.” Zane says with a sneer on his lips.  “It's over between us,” Zane says with a tone of finality.  __________________________ Zara Smith, blinded by love, abandons her heiress legacy and hides her identity to marry an illegitimate billionaire heir, Zane Wesley. After getting into an accident staged by his step-siblings, he urgently needs saving. Despite being informed of all she had to lose, she donates parts of her skin to heal him. When Zane no longer sees a need for her, he divorces her and marries another heiress to secure his inheritance.  Three years later, she returns and is determined to bring Zane down. To do this, she reclaims her legacy and forms an alliance with a billionaire heir, Leo Armstrong. Will she allow her need for revenge to stop her from ever falling in love again?
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Chapter 4

I woke up in what looked like a hotel room, head spinning like I had just gotten off a rollercoaster. A dull ache pounded behind my eyes. The sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with something warm-coffee maybe-hung in the air. I instinctively reached out for the area where the syringe had been inserted. My skin was sore, tender. It still hurt.

The ordeal of yesterday was definitely one I will not forget soon. I still hoped it was all a dream and I would wake up by the side of my husband, wrapped and comfortable in his arms.

I blinked slowly, taking in my surroundings. Cream walls, dark velvet curtains drawn halfway, and a white bed across mine with sheets smoother than anything I’d seen in weeks.

“But wait, did the mystery man abduct me for himself?” I shouldn’t have trusted the man who promised me forever, not to mention a stranger I met yesterday.

I turned to my side, trying to sit up.

“You’ve been out for two days”, a male voice interrupted, cutting short my inquiries.

There he was - the mystery man. Sitting on the chair by the window, arms crossed.

My heart skipped a bit when our eyes met. He was tall and had a banging model body. Dressed in grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbow, revealing his muscular forearms, his hair covering one side of his forehead as his dark blue eyes locked into mine.

“What?”. “T–T–Two days??” I asked with a look of confusion.

He nodded, barely interested.

“Where am I? And who are you? Why did you save me?”. I stared deep into the face of the man who had now unmasked himself.

I instinctively scanned my body and found that the clothes I wore when I was thrown out had been removed. In their place was a loose cotton T-shirt and joggers-clean, soft, unfamiliar.

“Did you—?”

He cut me off, rising slowly to his feet. “Easy…slow down. I didn’t touch you. I got someone to change your clothes.” He said, erasing all my suspicions.

I exhaled, in a mix of relief and shame.

“Thank you for saving me, but who are you?” I asked one more time.

“Who I am is not your business. I’d have left you here, but you took so long to wake up. I wanted to make sure you’d be fine at least. You can now leave.” He said coldly, not meeting my eyes, like I wasn’t his burden to bear.

His answer stung. Dismissive and cold.

Bold of me to think I was important to a stranger. I couldn’t help but notice the bandage on his palm. He must have gotten injured from the fight that broke out two days ago.

I moved toward him slowly, “Please let me help–”

Pulling away from me so swiftly, like I could infect him with a disease, “Don’t touch me.” The words were sharp, venom-laced. I don’t need your sympathy. I already booked a ticket out of the city for you. Take it and leave,” his jaw and fist tightening at the end of his statement.

His face was blank with unreadable eyes, not showing any emotion.

I recoiled, more hurt than I wanted to admit.

I guess I overstepped. Or I was already a burden to him.

He reached out for the remote and turned on the TV as he lay back in the chair. I followed his gaze reluctantly.

A newscaster read, “Billionaire Zane Wesley's wedding location is still kept secret from the public, trust us to stream it live for you when we discover–”

“Wedding location?” I turned to look at him, but it seemed he already knew, by the expression on his face.

“Zane is getting married?!” I placed my hands on top of my head as the words of the newscaster continued to slice through my skin like blades.

I wanted to believe I had misheard it. That this was some cruel misunderstanding.

“But then we can’t avoid the question on the nation’s lips. “Where is Zara Smith in the midst of all these?” The newscaster continued.

“I heard they had divorced days ago,” another added.

“Must be sad and–” The mystery man who had refused to tell me his name switched off the TV, cutting the newscaster short.

“It won’t do you any good listening to anything about Zane,” He said, this time with concern in his voice.

“That’s why I already arranged for you to leave the city, lady”. He said with a tone of finality.

The voices of the newscasters were still hovering in my head, so I couldn’t pay full attention to what he was saying. A storm of disbelief and humiliation swelled inside me. I was no longer the muse with shiny hair and a million-dollar smile. I was now someone talked about on national television, dragged into headlines and shows I never consented to. Not for a good thing but for shame and betrayal.

A thousand expectations, a thousand sacrifices, a thousand memories, but I was easily discarded like an expired product.

“Where is the location? Where is Zane getting married?” I asked, facing him.

“Do you really want to go there? Can you handle it?” A man, once cold, now looked caring, leaving me confused.

“Yes, please take me there.”

“I need to see this for myself.”

“Okay, but you will need a disguise. You don’t want the media swarming all over you”. He reached into the wardrobe and brought out a pair of black jeans, a black hoodie, and a black cap.

“Put these on”, he said, handing me the clothes, then pointed to the bathroom.

+++++

Later that day, at the wedding venue.

“Do you take Elora Shane to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and–” the voice of the priest greeted me as I arrived on the scene where my ex-husband planned to seal his betrayal. The garden was massive. White roses and gold ribbons hung around the pillars like reminders of wealth and control. Guests murmured in expensive silk and tuxedos, while bouncers stood like statues. From far back, I watched the man who promised me forever betray me for good.

I suddenly started to feel dizzy. Maybe I was still distraught from the terror two days ago. I still needed rest. As I tried to get my footing, a few media people noticed me at the back, where I was. I immediately knew I was in trouble. They rushed towards me with their microphones and cameras. It was total humiliation that I had never experienced before.

“Zara! Zara, is it true you were divorced just days before the wedding?”

“How do you feel seeing Zane marry Elora?”

“What happened to your marriage?”

Their voices around me blurred into a dull roar as I fell to the ground and everything went dark.

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