The Runaway Heiress And Her Secret Triplets

Author: Finley Steele

Chapter 1

Word Count: 648 | Released on: Today at 10:50

e penthouse door chimed a

expensive vanilla diffuser hit her face. She stepped into t

dropped to the

. They were limited-edition Louboutins. Her stepsister,

muscles in her abdomen contrac

She slipped off her trench coat and hung it on

toward the master bedroom. The th

de, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned forward and pressed her ear against the cool surface of the

hing. Her right hand reached out and clamped around th

It slammed against the wal

n the center of the massive king bed, two

rd the door. His eyes bul

e scrambled backward, ripping the si

er arms over her chest. A cold, razor-shar

knees hit the hardwood floor. He stammered, his face

her phone, and tapped the record button. The red light blin

torted with rage

lapping the floor. He reached out

rowed. The air ar

t, grabbing his extended wrist. She pivoted on her heel, dropping her center of

ards. The impact forced all the air from hi

p, her bare feet hitting the mattress as

d back, caught Brylee's wrist mid-a

ed her hard. Brylee collapsed back o

roaning at her feet. Her voice

agement

he massive diamond ring off her ring fi

straight at

im right below the eye. A thin line of

econd glance. She turned on her h

irkin from the foyer, and walked out. She

te elevator and hit the bu

Chapter End

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The Runaway Heiress And Her Secret Triplets

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“I opened the door to my penthouse, only to see my stepsister's limited-edition Louboutins discarded on the foyer rug. Walking into the master bedroom, I caught my fiancé and my stepsister tangled naked in my bed. When I went back to the family estate to settle the score, my father didn't even care. Instead, he and my stepmother demanded I take my stepsister's place to save the family's reputation. "You will marry the seventy-year-old billionaire next month. We can't ruin your sister's life," my father ordered. Looking at their hypocritical faces, the last shred of my family affection died completely. They really thought I would just accept being their sacrificial pawn while they stole my mother's legacy. So, I pinned them down with a blackmail video of the affair, extorted my father for my shares, and walked out into the freezing night. To numb the betrayal, I went to an underground club, slept with a terrifyingly powerful stranger, and left a red lipstick note on his forehead. "Your technique sucks. Keep the change." Then, I vanished abroad without a trace. Five years later, I returned to New York with my three children, ready to take back everything that was mine. But I didn't expect that the "cheap gigolo" from that night was actually Kendall James, the most ruthless corporate titan in the city. And he had just spotted my five-year-old son-his exact miniature replica-standing right beside me.”