Too Late, I Am The Real Heiress
For eight years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress to the Stafford family fortune, playing the role of a meek, dependent girlfriend just to see if Evan could love me for who I truly was.
But today, he slid a severance check across the table and told me to pack my things.
He said his company was going bankrupt and he had no choice but to marry Piper Finch, a woman claiming to have Stafford family backing, to save his business.
"You will not survive a week out there! You cannot even afford subway fare without me!"
The next day, he paraded Piper around the office, letting her mock me before publicly firing me. His mother even threw a five million dollar check in my face, demanding I disappear so I would not ruin his marriage to the wealthy elite.
I looked at the fake heiress wearing a cheap, lab-grown diamond and felt a bitter laugh lodge in my throat.
After eight years of my devotion, he was throwing away the real Stafford princess for a pathetic fraud, utterly convinced I was just a worthless, broke burden.
Instead of begging, I ripped his check in half and walked out.
I pulled out my encrypted satellite phone and told my family to unfreeze my limitless black card.
I was done playing the helpless girlfriend. It was time to show him what real power looks like.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 1
The crisp, heavy parchment of the severance agreement scraped against the Italian marble coffee table.
Evan pushed the document forward, his manicured index finger tapping the surface. A cashier's check for five hundred thousand dollars rested on top. The sound of the paper sliding stopped Adeline's hand mid-air. She held a porcelain coffee cup, the dark liquid inside perfectly still.
Adeline lowered her gaze to the six figures printed on the check. Her thumb pressed hard against her index finger, the nail digging into the skin until it turned white. The sheer absurdity of the moment lodged in her throat like a dry pill.
Evan adjusted the platinum cufflink on his left wrist. He leaned back in the custom leather sofa, his posture radiating the exhausted patience of a man dealing with a slow child.
"Strong Group is filing for bankruptcy by the end of the quarter if we do not secure the supply chain injection," Evan said. His voice was flat, practiced. "I have to marry Piper. The Stafford family backing is the only thing that will save the board."
Adeline set the coffee cup down. The ceramic clinked sharply against the saucer. She lowered her eyelashes, forcing her breathing to shallow out. She let her shoulders droop, playing into the exact image of the helpless, dependent woman Evan had spent eight years molding her to be.
Evan let out a heavy breath. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He raised his hand and rested his palm on the top of her head.
Adeline's stomach churned. The bile rose in the back of her throat, but she kept her feet planted. She let her forehead rest against the lapel of his tailored suit.
"Just pack your things and move out quietly," Evan murmured, his chest vibrating against her face. "I will still take care of you. I can set you up in a nice place in Queens. You will never have to worry about rent."
Adeline raised her hands. Her fingers brushed against the knot of his silk tie. She traced the smooth fabric, her hands trembling just enough to sell the performance.
"Do you really have to marry her?" Adeline whispered, keeping her voice tight and fragile.
Evan closed his eyes. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as he absorbed her submission.
"It is for the future of the company, Adeline. I have no other choice."
Adeline's fingers tightened around the silk. With a sudden, violent jerk, she yanked the unknotted tie downward and looped it around the back of Evan's neck.
The massive force pulled Evan off balance. He stumbled backward, his knees hitting the edge of the heavy oak-framed armchair. He crashed down into the deep cushions.
Evan's eyes snapped open in shock. He planted his hands on the armrests to push himself up.
Adeline lunged. She drove her knee hard into his thigh, pinning him to the seat. Her hands moved with terrifying speed. She whipped the ends of the silk tie around the carved wooden armrest and pulled. The fabric dug into the wood. She tied a double knot, pulling it so tight the silk groaned.
Evan thrashed against the chair. The friction of the silk burned against his neck as it tightened with his movements.
"What the hell are you doing?" Evan barked, his face flushing red.
Adeline stepped back. She pulled a tissue from the brass box on the table and wiped her palms. She balled the tissue up and threw it directly at his face. It bounced off his nose.
She picked up the five hundred thousand dollar check. She held it up so the overhead lights caught the watermark. Then, she ripped it straight down the middle. She tore the halves again, letting the pieces flutter down onto Evan's polished leather shoes.
Evan stared at the torn paper, the veins in his neck bulging against the tight silk.
"You stupid bitch!" Evan roared, struggling against the armrest. "You will not survive a week out there! You cannot even afford subway fare without me!"
Adeline turned her back to him. She walked toward the entryway. The digital keypad of the wall safe glowed blue. She punched in the six-digit code without hesitating. The heavy steel door clicked and swung open.
She ignored the velvet boxes of jewelry. She reached into the back and pulled out four thick stacks of unmarked hundred-dollar bills. Two hundred thousand dollars in illegal cash, prepared for a gray-market vendor. She shoved the bricks of money into her leather tote bag.
Evan twisted in the chair, his breathing turning ragged.
"I will call the police! That is robbery!"
Adeline walked back to the sofa. She looked down at him, her face completely blank. She raised her hand and patted his cheek, her cold fingers slapping lightly against his hot skin.
"Call them," Adeline said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Explain to the IRS why you have two hundred thousand in untraceable cash sitting next to your cooked ledgers."
Evan's jaw snapped shut. The color drained from his face, leaving him a sickly gray. He stared at her, his pupils dilating as the realization hit him.
Adeline reached down and grabbed his left wrist. She unclasped the Patek Philippe watch. It slid off his skin.
Evan lunged forward, snapping his teeth toward her wrist.
Adeline swung her arm back and slapped him across the face. The crack echoed off the high ceilings.
Evan's head whipped to the side. A drop of blood welled at the corner of his mouth. He blinked, completely stunned, the fight knocked out of him.
Adeline dropped the hundred-thousand-dollar watch into her bag and zipped it shut.
"Consider this the invoice for eight years of my time."
She walked into the walk-in closet. She bypassed the rows of designer dresses Evan had bought her. She pulled a worn, beige trench coat off a hanger and slipped it over her shoulders.
"Put the money down, Adeline!" Evan yelled, desperation cracking his voice. "I will sign the deed to the Brooklyn apartment over to you! Just leave the cash!"
Adeline walked to the front door. She flipped the cover off the smart lock panel. She pressed and held the reset button. The system beeped, deleting her biometric data.
A long, high-pitched tone signaled the erasure.
She grabbed the heavy brass handle and pulled the oak door open. The chilled, conditioned air of the hallway rushed in, blowing her hair back. It stripped the scent of Evan's expensive cologne from her clothes.
Adeline stepped out and slammed the door shut, cutting off Evan's screaming. She walked down the long, carpeted hallway toward the elevator, her heels sinking into the plush floor.
You may also like
8.3
Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister.
On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future.
But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse.
Marriage. Power. Revenge.
Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her.
There's just one problem...
Her new husband knows more about her past than he should.
And the closer she gets to revenge-
the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
9.3
For years, Gabriela believed the man beside her would be the one she grew old with. They had loved each other since they were young, but in the end, all those years meant nothing beside a younger woman's smile.
Returning from a business trip, she uncovered his betrayal with brutal clarity. Still, she did not cry or beg. She took out her phone, recorded every damning second, and filed for divorce the moment she could.
Afterward, she rebuilt her life into something brighter, richer, and stronger, even marrying a powerful tycoon. As for her ex and his shameless mistress, they could rot together.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
7.4
I opened the door to my penthouse, only to see my stepsister's limited-edition Louboutins discarded on the foyer rug.
Walking into the master bedroom, I caught my fiancé and my stepsister tangled naked in my bed.
When I went back to the family estate to settle the score, my father didn't even care.
Instead, he and my stepmother demanded I take my stepsister's place to save the family's reputation.
"You will marry the seventy-year-old billionaire next month. We can't ruin your sister's life," my father ordered.
Looking at their hypocritical faces, the last shred of my family affection died completely.
They really thought I would just accept being their sacrificial pawn while they stole my mother's legacy.
So, I pinned them down with a blackmail video of the affair, extorted my father for my shares, and walked out into the freezing night.
To numb the betrayal, I went to an underground club, slept with a terrifyingly powerful stranger, and left a red lipstick note on his forehead.
"Your technique sucks. Keep the change."
Then, I vanished abroad without a trace.
Five years later, I returned to New York with my three children, ready to take back everything that was mine.
But I didn't expect that the "cheap gigolo" from that night was actually Kendall James, the most ruthless corporate titan in the city.
And he had just spotted my five-year-old son—his exact miniature replica—standing right beside me.