Jilted Heiress: Rising From The Ashes

it. She deleted the word Fiancé. Her thumbs moved quickly against the glass. T-A-R-G-E-T. She saved the contact, the single word a declaration

re i

whisper, a puff of air that lacked the strength to carry t

house, her bare feet sinking into the plush cream carpet. Her eyes

ger was

red with thousands of tiny seed pearls that had taken six months to perfect. It was a dress meant for a cathedral, for

it. A few stray sequins glitter

ce was the color of old paper. She held a dust bag in

so hard the words vibrated in the air. "The security team. From

ng. A key. Of course. She had given Boston a key three years ag

the empty hanger. She reached out, her fingers brushi

d, her eyes darting to the floor. "

ewh

ical. A wedding dress wasn't a piece of furnitu

vibration buzzed against the marble surface

er phone scre

. Now relabel

med a painful, erratic skip. It wasn't excitement. It was the bi

ut her fingertips were ice cold. She slid her thumb

sto

ng is off,

ed of the charm he reserved for board meetings and charity

m seemed to tilt on its axis. She gripped the edge

ha

aitress who had brought him the wrong order. "We're not getting married on t

we just had dinner last night. You were tal

ged," he cut her

s

ile, sickly angel of the Jefferson family who had torme

ked, though a sick feeling w

e doesn't have much time." Boston's voice shifted, taking on a

e training of a socialite kicked in before her emotions

the other end. A he

, Florrie. Her dying wish... her

elt too thin. She looked at the empty hanger again. The p

y dress," s

gn is what matters to her. You know you two were once the same size, it won't take much to

lorrie's throat, tasti

you?" Florrie aske

ing woman, Florrie? Have so

what is mine," Florrie said, the shock beginning to fracture, revea

this condition. It would be cruel. I'm going to marry Asia. I

h that sounded like glass breaking. "Is the mar

passion. Something you clearly lack. I expected you t

oice dropping an octave. "You sent your goons int

by the Travis family accounts," Boston c

," Florrie said. "Di

l. She's waking up. Don't make a scene. Don't talk to the reporters. Let the official s

sto

ne wen

, listening to the silence. It roared. It sounded like

owly. She looked at her

swollen, a mouth twisted in agony. That was the Florrie Jefferson the world knew. The reject. The one

in the mirror

thin, bloodless line. But her eyes... her eyes were

blade twisting in her chest. But beneath the pain, som

ccidentally spilled juice on the rug. She had cried for an hour. Then, she had stopped. She had sat in

latio

ed away from

Her voice was steady

, Miss Jefferson? Do you need... do you need w

e hidden behind a large abstract painting. Her fing

teel door c

ide and pulled out a thick document bound in a blue folder

red, pulling out her phone. "What... w

ny surface. It was the draft of the prenuptial agreement Boston had insist

a red marker f

ker with a sharp snap, "that we're executin

en to the page titled Separ

she crossed out the paragraph

Che

es

g the sharp angles of her cheekbones. She didn't look like a b

ion list," Florrie said. "