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The Wolf's Gambit: The Heiress's Revenge

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 767    |    Released on: 07/01/2026

as an object. A broken thing he had picked

zzed. A text

the hell are you doing? You are there to fix the engagement

ew the phon

She couldn't. The way he had looked at her on the terra

n't fix it, he

ed a thi

ad cowered before him. The way the ent

he sharks, she needed to s

she had left-a slip of a nightgown made of cream silk. It was

ch coat over it, ty

. The resor

veryone knew. The Presidential Bunga

the room, dodging t

guards were stationed at the gate.

eld her head high, channeling every

e Mr. Blackwo

listened for a moment, then looked at her wi

ctin

e click

ow was a masterpiece of modern architecture,

door was

the sofa, a laptop open on his knees. He was wearing reading glasses. He

k up. "You to

the ocean below was muffled, replace

know I'd come

them on the coffee table. "Because

her coat. "

ere clumsy. She untied the knot and let the coa

silk. It clung to her curve

raveled up slowly. It felt like a physical t

," she said, her voic

u dressed for it

the most honest thing she had ever said. "Richard cut me off. H

walked over to her,

ping with me will b

n the elevat

k sound. "That wasn't a transacti

f hair that had fallen over her sho

you want?" s

," he said softly. "Why you st

ed me," she said. "Becaus

eek. His thumb traced her jaw

epped back. "You're stayin

linked. "

w you're safe, and the only place I can guarantee that is within arm's r

ve with him!"

rway. He looked back over

-

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The Wolf's Gambit: The Heiress's Revenge
The Wolf's Gambit: The Heiress's Revenge
“It was our fifth anniversary, and I sat alone in a Michelin-starred restaurant, staring at a diamond ring that felt more like an anchor than a promise. I kept telling myself Caleb was just busy, rationalizing the sharp, spasmodic pain in my stomach as mere nerves rather than my body's final warning. But when I went to his penthouse to surprise him, I found the double doors ajar. Through the gap, I watched my fiancé devouring Beatrice Blackwood on the sofa-the woman who had the family backing and confidence I supposedly lacked. He wasn't working; he was celebrating our anniversary by replacing me. The fallout was a calculated humiliation. The tabloids branded me a "pathetic orphan," and my Uncle Richard didn't care about the betrayal. He slammed his hand on his desk, claiming I was having another "psychotic episode" and accusing me of paranoia. He threatened to pull the plug on my mother's life support unless I went to the Hamptons to beg Caleb for forgiveness. My family even tried to force me onto heavy antipsychotics to keep me quiet for the sake of a corporate merger. I was being sold to a man who hated me by the very people who were supposed to protect me. I didn't understand why they wanted me broken, or why a mysterious stranger in an elevator had suddenly paid my mother's astronomical medical bills in full. Everything changed at a dinner where my uncle tried to trade me to a predator for a real estate deal. I didn't cry; I shattered a wine bottle and held the jagged glass to the man's throat. That's when Julian Blackwood, the most feared man on Wall Street, walked in and seized the house, the debt, and me. "I take my contracts seriously, Vanessa," he whispered, pulling me into his armored car as my family was thrown onto the street. I had escaped my uncle's cage, but as I looked into Julian's storm-gray eyes, I realized I had just traded a common bully for a beautiful, deadly king.”