The Jilted Heiress: Rising From Betrayal

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 887 | Released on: 15/01/2026

t felt arctic. Kalea suppressed a shiver, wrapping her arms aroun

n them. He turned to look at her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe w

he said. It wasn't a suggesti

e reaction to apologize, to fix it. She stopped herse

window. "Whatever. The hospital pickup was a detour I di

eaks of neon as the car accelerated. The motion made her stomach ch

decanter in the built-in bar. A

elow the watch band, was a bruise.

as f

asn't heartbreak she felt. It was a wave of revulsion so strong she tasted bile.

He didn't flinch. He didn't look guilty. He simply tugged his

plastic bottle and shoved it towar

dehydrated. I don't need you

s. His skin was warm, alive. Hers was cold as marble

h. "Still playing the shy virgin? It'

st list is important tonight. The board members from the merger committee are

o be there?" Kalea a

ryone who

pence going

paused, the glass halfway to his mouth. He

ach word as if speaking to a slow child. "She is essential for ne

against her palm. "Since when does an Executive Secretary

manage the press," Franco snapped. "Don't

arrogance. He truly believed he was in the right. He believed he was entitled

on the seat. A me

der

lready. The backseat f

quirked up. It was a smile Kalea hadn't seen

g the button. The glass slid down an inch, letting in a blast of exhaust-filled city a

barked. "Close that. You're

ackward from ten in her head. Ten. Nine. Eigh

" she w

l. A boring, sickly woman who was nothing more than a signature on a contrac

ander estate. Through the tinted windows, the flash of cameras was

of the window. He transformed. The sneer vanished, replaced by th

r. "Let's go. And fix your fa

em. They were flat, dark pools. She reached out and

The noise of th

Chapter End

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The Jilted Heiress: Rising From Betrayal

Sakakawea Modern

“I woke up in a sterile hospital bed with the smell of antiseptic burning my throat, having just had my stomach pumped six hours ago. Before the sedatives even wore off, my mother called, not to ask if I was alive, but to demand I show up at my sister's birthday gala in two hours. To her, I wasn't a daughter; I was a three-hundred-million-dollar signature needed for a corporate merger. She didn't care that I was suicidal, or that my fiancé, Franco, was currently at a luxury hotel with his "secretary" while I was hooked up to an IV. At the gala, the humiliation only deepened. I watched my fiancé walk in with his mistress, the air thick with her cloying perfume. When my grandmother's "lost" emeralds-my rightful inheritance-spilled out of the mistress's purse, my mother didn't flinch. Instead, she hissed at me to give them back to avoid a scene. My sister, the "perfect" golden child, took the stage and told the elite crowd that I was mentally unstable and "confused" due to my medication. I stood there, drenched in champagne and bleeding from a glass shard, while my own family gaslighted me in front of the world's press. Franco didn't even look at me as he shielded his mistress from the cameras, leaving me to stand alone in the wreckage of a life they had dismantled. I realized then that my parents didn't want a daughter; they wanted a pawn who wouldn't talk back. Why was my life worth less than a line item in a budget? How could a mother hand her daughter's legacy to a mistress just to keep a contract intact? As my sister lunged at me in a fit of rage, I kicked her into the infinity pool and watched the "perfect" family mask finally shatter. I didn't wait for them to pull me down; I let the weight of my gown drag me into the dark water myself. Let them think the broken Kalea Alexander is gone. When I surface, I'm not coming back as a daughter-I'm coming back as their worst nightmare.”