Login to ManoBook
icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
The Hidden Heiress's Bitter Return

The Hidden Heiress's Bitter Return

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
View
11
Chapters

My life felt perfect. Pregnant and soon to marry Ethan, I was happy keeping my family's multi-million dollar organic farming empire a secret. Simplicity was bliss. Then came the call. Ethan, my husband-to-be, his voice tight, confessed: his "fragile" college friend, Olivia, had caused a scandalous mess at Desert Bloom festival. To shield her reputation, he'd told everyone... it was me. The world tilted. Overnight, I became the subject of vicious gossip, painted as a wild, shameless liability. Ethan brought Olivia, the real culprit, into our home, fussing over her "trauma" while I was humiliated in my own sanctuary. His mother, Eleanor, sealed my fate, sneering, "That child you're carrying... it's a disgrace. Get an abortion and divorce Ethan." My husband stood silent, then validated every word for his mother, implying he' d "accept" this shameful burden. My heart turned to ice. He didn' t just betray me; he betrayed our unborn child, labeling our baby a disgrace before its first breath. How could the man I loved, the father of my child, throw me to the wolves for a woman he claimed to have "saved"? This simple life, shattered beyond recognition, revealed a chilling truth: I was nothing but collateral damage. Desperation hardened into resolve. "I want a divorce," I told him, "And I'm not keeping the baby." He panicked, but I played along, feigning forgiveness, needing him to take Olivia away and create my escape. The moment their car pulled out, I called my brother. The simple farm girl was done. It was time to reclaim my empire.

Introduction

My life felt perfect.

Pregnant and soon to marry Ethan, I was happy keeping my family's multi-million dollar organic farming empire a secret.

Simplicity was bliss.

Then came the call.

Ethan, my husband-to-be, his voice tight, confessed: his "fragile" college friend, Olivia, had caused a scandalous mess at Desert Bloom festival.

To shield her reputation, he'd told everyone... it was me.

The world tilted.

Overnight, I became the subject of vicious gossip, painted as a wild, shameless liability.

Ethan brought Olivia, the real culprit, into our home, fussing over her "trauma" while I was humiliated in my own sanctuary.

His mother, Eleanor, sealed my fate, sneering, "That child you're carrying... it's a disgrace. Get an abortion and divorce Ethan."

My husband stood silent, then validated every word for his mother, implying he' d "accept" this shameful burden.

My heart turned to ice.

He didn' t just betray me; he betrayed our unborn child, labeling our baby a disgrace before its first breath.

How could the man I loved, the father of my child, throw me to the wolves for a woman he claimed to have "saved"?

This simple life, shattered beyond recognition, revealed a chilling truth: I was nothing but collateral damage.

Desperation hardened into resolve.

"I want a divorce," I told him, "And I'm not keeping the baby."

He panicked, but I played along, feigning forgiveness, needing him to take Olivia away and create my escape.

The moment their car pulled out, I called my brother.

The simple farm girl was done.

It was time to reclaim my empire.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
The CEO Who Knew My Thoughts

The CEO Who Knew My Thoughts

Short stories

5.0

My family's tech company, ChenTech, was bleeding out, and Dad, ever the optimist, clung to an email from Stryker Innovations: an invitation to their "Next Generation Leaders Program." I was supposed to be our savior, a burnt-out junior software developer thrown into the corporate lion's den. I hated it, but Dad's desperate hope was a heavy chain around my neck. The orientation was chillingly efficient. Damien Stryker, the CEO, radiated an unnerving stillness. He immediately dismissed anyone who' d used clichéd motivational posters. My blood ran cold, but my minimalist presentation was safe. Then, a sharp, sarcastic thought cut through my anxiety: What a certifiable lunatic. His gaze snapped up, piercing the room, locking onto me. He knew. Instead of being dismissed, I was "promoted." Mr. Alistair Finch, Stryker' s chief of staff, informed me I was to be Damien's personal project assistant. My days became a bizarre loop of meticulously crafting his Colombian coffee (192 degrees, counter-clockwise stir) and organizing impossibly misfiled archives. Every mental groan, every cynical observation I made, he' d subtly echo or correct with a smirk I could almost feel. It felt less like a job, more like a cruel psychological experiment. How could he know? The mind-reading was infuriating, humiliating. This man, who saw right through my carefully constructed facade, seemed to deliberately play with my thoughts, making me feel like a trapped rat. Was he just an eccentric genius, or something far more sinister? Was I truly losing my mind? But then I started to notice: the companies he acquired often improved, employees thrived. The corporate wolf wasn't quite what he seemed. When his own stepmother, Eleanor, tried to weaponize me for corporate espionage, her veiled threats echoing his mind games, I realized the real danger wasn' t Damien. It was time to stop being a victim in this psychological maze and start fighting back.

They Broke Her, I Broke Them

They Broke Her, I Broke Them

Short stories

5.0

My twin sister, Olivia, lay terrifyingly still in a hospital bed, her pale face a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets. An IV dripped fluid into her arm, and chillingly, thick bandages covered her wrists, a silent testament to her desperate act. She had tried to end her life, driven to the brink by the relentless, sophisticated cruelty of Brittany and her followers at Northwood High School. Their audacious arrival at the hospital, complete with smirks and chilling taunts, twisted the knife deeper into our family' s raw wound. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, stood helpless, their attempts to rid us of the tormentors dismissed with scornful indifference. When the police finally arrived, their response was infuriatingly inadequate: a dismissive "warning" for minors, prioritizing Brittany' s influential family over Olivia' s shattered life. Then, the ultimate humiliation struck: a raw, brutal video of Olivia's locker room torment, her clothes torn and her pleas mocked by Brittany's cruel laughter, exploded across social media. My fragile sister, seeing it, whispered that she was "so weak," her spirit visibly drained from her eyes. A mere warning for such psychological torture, for driving my twin to attempt suicide, was a grotesque joke in their broken system. But a familiar darkness, a dormant, predatory instinct I had suppressed for years for Olivia' s sake, began to stir within me. Olivia had always been my anchor, soothing this other side, but now, she was the very reason to unleash it. That night, I made a decision that would redefine everything: I was going to Northwood High. They thought they knew Olivia Peterson – but they had no idea who was truly coming for them. They had broken my other half; I would break them in return, and the Peterson family had unique ways of ensuring justice.

The Mother Who Waited

The Mother Who Waited

Short stories

5.0

My carefully constructed world was perfect, the epitome of the American dream. My son, Sam, was graduating high school, Yale-bound, smart, kind-the culmination of everything I' d worked for. Surrounded by loved ones in our sprawling Hamptons-esque garden, I handed him a substantial stock trust from his late father, a solid foundation for his brilliant future. Then, Darlene Pickett, our former housekeeper, burst through the wrought-iron gates, her face contorted with grotesque rage. She dragged a small, disheveled boy beside her, pointing a trembling finger at my son. "He's not Eleanor's son!" she shrieked for everyone to hear. "He's mine! And this," she thrust the other boy forward, "this is Daniel Ainsworth! Your real son, Eleanor! I swapped them eighteen years ago, in that hospital!" A collective gasp echoed across the stunned crowd as my beautiful day-and carefully curated life-shattered. But the horror deepened as Darlene, her husband, and even her daughter openly gloated about the years of systematic neglect and brutal abuse they'd inflicted on Danny, the boy they thought was mine, detailing every scar and broken bone with chilling pride. My heart clenched, not in fear of public ruin, but at the raw depravity laid bare. Sam, bewildered and utterly disgusted, turned to me, his eyes pleading, "Mom? What are they talking about?" He couldn't fathom such cruelty, begging me to say it wasn't true, that they were all insane. They demanded DNA tests to prove their twisted, greedy claim. And I, with an icy calm that surprised even me, simply replied, "Very well. We'll arrange for them immediately." Because what they didn't-couldn't-know was that I had been waiting patiently for this exact moment for eighteen long years.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book