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Broken By The Heir, Claimed By Power

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 823    |    Released on: 07/01/2026

, squinting through the windshiel

wish," Ben muttered,

Red brake lights stretched out ah

erything

" Ben said

jumped. "Turn

"Dispatch, we have a multi-vehicle pileup near mile marker 42. Tractor-tra

minu

e shoulder,"

llegal,"

Black smoke was rising into the rain-strea

van onto the gravel shoulder and in

een-wheeler lay on its side across three lanes. A sedan was crushed a

rens yet. They were

he kept under the seat. Her mother had been a war correspondent in the Balk

ous!" Ben yelled as

llets of ice. She stepped out, her heels sinking into the mud. S

reamed back at Ben. "Wi

ed. The driver was slumped over the wheel,

e metal slick with rain and diesel fuel.

an you

oaned. "My le

She tried to pry the door open,

r something to break

rough the sou

a tu

ad. The rider had bailed, but the bike-four hundred pounds of steel-was sliding sideways, sp

!" someon

't think.

rowing herself backward into the

nd hard. The air

truck right where she had been

um. Her right foot twisted violently in

O

le-not a break, but a severe, tearing wren

the sound lost

She tried to move her foot. Agony. She gritted her teeth, forcing herse

headlights cutting through the glo

shoulder, forcing their way through the debris

ed thirty

f up on her elbows,

f the middl

las. They weren't protecting themselves. Th

harcoal trench coat that looked like it cost more than the v

ped the umbrellas and sprinted toward the tr

h coat stood alone i

were shaking, slippery with mud and bloo

zoom

eekbones. Eyes the color of slate

erling. T

raiser in Manhattan right now. What was

tur

lens, his ey

... annoyed. Cold. Like she was a c

apped th

-

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Broken By The Heir, Claimed By Power
Broken By The Heir, Claimed By Power
“I spent two years navigating the stratified air of Spencer Kensington's world, thinking I was the woman he loved. I even ate instant ramen for months to afford a vintage camera lens for our anniversary. When I got a mysterious text about "Operation Blue Moon," I thought it was our private signal for a proposal. Instead, I walked into a limestone fortress to find the Kensington and Van Der Woodsen Engagement Party in full swing. Spencer wasn't there for a romantic dinner; he was standing under a crystal chandelier, announcing his "business merger" with a blonde heiress. When I confronted him in a service hallway, he didn't apologize. He offered to buy me a brownstone and keep me as his "side project" while his mother, Victoria, watched from the balcony like a queen. "Vanessa is just furniture," he said, his voice full of a terrifying sincerity. "But you're the one I love. I can give you a life of ease." When I refused to be his dirty little secret, the retaliation was instant and brutal. By the next morning, I was fired from my reporting job, my father's nursing home funding was pulled, and I returned home to find my apartment condemned by the city. My entire life was piled in wet boxes on a rain-soaked sidewalk. I couldn't understand how one family could have the power to erase a person's existence in a single night. How could the man who kissed me yesterday watch his mother leave me homeless and penniless today? Standing in the rain next to my ruined belongings, a black SUV pulled up and Mayor Julian Sterling stepped out. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a deal. "The Kensingtons are panicked," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "And panicked people make mistakes. You have a reason to watch them burn. I want to see what you know." I took his hand, knowing he was just as dangerous as the people I was fighting, but I was done being the victim. This wasn't just a breakup anymore; it was a war.”