The Heiress Who Rose From The Ashes

The Heiress Who Rose From The Ashes

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
1K
View
11
Chapters

I loved Blake Vanderbilt with everything I had. He was my world, and when he told me about his rare, career-ending nerve condition, my heart truly shattered. The experimental treatment was $80,000, a fortune for a struggling songwriter like me, but I would do anything. So, I sold my father's most treasured possession, a vintage 1959 Gibson Les Paul, the last piece I had of him. Handing over that guitar felt like losing a piece of my soul, but it was for Blake, for us, for our music. Days later, bringing him cookies at his upscale clinic, I overheard voices from a half-open door. "Can you believe she actually sold it?" Chloe Astor's mocking laugh cut through me. Then Blake's voice, clear and strong, "Eighty grand, straight into my account. Paid for this lovely clinic visit, and Chloe's new demo." My blood ran cold. They had laughed about my sacrifice, my tears, and planned to play a video of my heartbreak at a party – my birthday party. The cookies clattered to the floor, my world crumbling around me. He was healthy, radiant, and everything had been a lie. The betrayal knocked the air from my lungs. How could someone I loved so deeply be so monstrously cruel? Weeks later, after being publicly humiliated and assaulted by Chloe's friends, waking up in a hospital bed with stitches in my head, I received a cryptic text. It was from a lawyer, informing me that my long-lost grandfather, a legendary music mogul, had just passed away. And he'd left his entire multi-million dollar estate to me.

Introduction

I loved Blake Vanderbilt with everything I had.

He was my world, and when he told me about his rare, career-ending nerve condition, my heart truly shattered.

The experimental treatment was $80,000, a fortune for a struggling songwriter like me, but I would do anything.

So, I sold my father's most treasured possession, a vintage 1959 Gibson Les Paul, the last piece I had of him.

Handing over that guitar felt like losing a piece of my soul, but it was for Blake, for us, for our music.

Days later, bringing him cookies at his upscale clinic, I overheard voices from a half-open door.

"Can you believe she actually sold it?" Chloe Astor's mocking laugh cut through me.

Then Blake's voice, clear and strong, "Eighty grand, straight into my account. Paid for this lovely clinic visit, and Chloe's new demo."

My blood ran cold.

They had laughed about my sacrifice, my tears, and planned to play a video of my heartbreak at a party – my birthday party.

The cookies clattered to the floor, my world crumbling around me.

He was healthy, radiant, and everything had been a lie.

The betrayal knocked the air from my lungs.

How could someone I loved so deeply be so monstrously cruel?

Weeks later, after being publicly humiliated and assaulted by Chloe's friends, waking up in a hospital bed with stitches in my head, I received a cryptic text.

It was from a lawyer, informing me that my long-lost grandfather, a legendary music mogul, had just passed away.

And he'd left his entire multi-million dollar estate to me.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

4.2

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

When Love Rebuilds From Frozen Hearts

When Love Rebuilds From Frozen Hearts

Short stories

5.0

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book