Too Late For Regret: The Betrayed Heiress

. Chloe's vintage Mercedes hummed along the parkway, carrying her back to the

long, gravel driveway. The house loomed ahead, a grand, Georgian facad

he cavernous, empty foyer. She bypassed the formal living rooms and gr

ght to the antique writing desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. Tucked beneath a stack of old sketch

ag and turned to leave, a sense

r, a peal of light, feminine laughter

knew that laugh

ilently, her soft-soled shoes making no sound on the polished hardwood floo

s a pictures

e in a boardroom on Wall Street, saving a multi-million-dollar acquisition. H

haise lounge in a white silk dressing g

oe's blood run cold. It was the glint of b

h, surrounded by a starb

cifically to Chloe, her least favorite grandchild. It was her most treasured pos

ed through the shock. It incinerated years

en with such force that they sl

wn the front of her pristine silk gown. Devon leaped to his feet, his

her sister. She strode across the room un

brooch?" she demanded, her vo

ck against the cushions, pulling Devon's arm as if for protection. "I-I just borrowed

expression hardening. "Chloe, for God's sake, it

, her voice like ice. She

gers, slick with spilled tea, struggled with the delicate pin. Then, with a tiny, alm

t, a sharp, theatr

loe, grabbing Olivia's hand to inspect the tiny bead of blood. H

arble-topped table. In that split second of chaos, Oliv

slow, glittering arc before h

l but absolute. A

over a century, lay shattered, its brilliant blue he

e garden flew open and their mother, Mi

loom on the floor, Olivia sobbing with a bleeding finger, De

't ask a sin

e and, with all her strength

snapped to the side, a fiery sting spreading across her cheek. The ta

rage. She pointed a trembling finger toward the d

ree of them-her weeping sister, her furious fiancé

her eyes. There was n

r past. She walked out of the sunroom, through the cold f

led it shut behind her, the quiet click