The Betrayed Heiress's Backlash

The Betrayed Heiress's Backlash

L. FITZGERALD

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For two years, I worked myself to the bone, delivering greasy takeout and scraping every last penny to care for my fiancé, Ethan, after his devastating rock-climbing accident left him "paralyzed." His medical bills were endless, and just last week, I' d pawned my most cherished possession-my late mother' s sapphire pendant-to cover another of his "specialist consultations." This was my grim reality. But one late-night DoorDash delivery to a sprawling Hamptons estate shattered my entire world. While dropping off expensive seafood, I overheard voices through an open window. One was familiar: Ethan's. Unburdened, carefree and laughing, he told Olivia, a girl from my past, how he' d faked his crippling injury for two years as an elaborate revenge plot against me. The food bag slipped from my numb fingers as I peered in and saw him-standing, healthy, mocking my gullibility. He reveled in how I, "naive small-town trash," had waited on him "hand and foot." Later, at a lavish gala, Olivia brazenly wore my mother's pendant, publicly ridiculed me, then, with a sneer, tossed the priceless heirloom into the churning ocean. Every sacrifice, every skipped meal, every worried night-it was all a cruel, calculated lie. My heart, once brimming with love and concern, turned into a cold, hard stone in my chest. The world tilted as betrayal slammed into me. How could I have been so blind? How could they be so utterly vindictive over a forgotten scholarship? Tears streamed down my face, hot and angry, but a fierce resolve ignited within me. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I hadn't called in years. "Dad?" I whispered. "That business merger... the marriage. Is the offer still on the table?" The line went silent, then, his voice, gentle: "Always, Chloe. For you, always." "I accept."

Introduction

For two years, I worked myself to the bone, delivering greasy takeout and scraping every last penny to care for my fiancé, Ethan, after his devastating rock-climbing accident left him "paralyzed." His medical bills were endless, and just last week, I' d pawned my most cherished possession-my late mother' s sapphire pendant-to cover another of his "specialist consultations." This was my grim reality.

But one late-night DoorDash delivery to a sprawling Hamptons estate shattered my entire world. While dropping off expensive seafood, I overheard voices through an open window. One was familiar: Ethan's. Unburdened, carefree and laughing, he told Olivia, a girl from my past, how he' d faked his crippling injury for two years as an elaborate revenge plot against me.

The food bag slipped from my numb fingers as I peered in and saw him-standing, healthy, mocking my gullibility. He reveled in how I, "naive small-town trash," had waited on him "hand and foot." Later, at a lavish gala, Olivia brazenly wore my mother's pendant, publicly ridiculed me, then, with a sneer, tossed the priceless heirloom into the churning ocean.

Every sacrifice, every skipped meal, every worried night-it was all a cruel, calculated lie. My heart, once brimming with love and concern, turned into a cold, hard stone in my chest. The world tilted as betrayal slammed into me. How could I have been so blind? How could they be so utterly vindictive over a forgotten scholarship?

Tears streamed down my face, hot and angry, but a fierce resolve ignited within me. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I hadn't called in years. "Dad?" I whispered. "That business merger... the marriage. Is the offer still on the table?" The line went silent, then, his voice, gentle: "Always, Chloe. For you, always." "I accept."

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