Shattered Bonds: The Reborn Heiress Strikes Back
Eloise Ferguson was the legitimate daughter of a powerful Senator, yet she was treated like a hysterical burden by her own family.
In her past life, her parents forced her to marry a sadistic billionaire for political funding.
When she resisted, they locked her in a psychiatric facility, drugged her, and left her to die in restraints while her "fragile" cousin Jaylene stole her life.
She never understood why her mother hated her so fiercely.
Why did her mother treat her brother Cortez and her cousin Jaylene like absolute royalty, while throwing her own flesh and blood to the wolves?
Opening her eyes again, Eloise found herself back at age twenty-two, trapped in a restroom at a charity gala.
Escaping her abuser, she used her awakened mystic abilities to look at her family's life forces.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
Thick, red biological cords connected her mother directly to both Cortez and Jaylene, intertwining in a perfect symbiotic bond.
They weren't cousins. They were illegitimate twins born from her mother's secret affair.
Eloise was the only true outsider in her own home.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Her entire life of abuse was just a cover-up for a nest of parasites stealing her father's name and her inheritance.
But this time, she refused to be their victim.
Armed with an unchallengeable executive order she blackmailed out of the United States President, Eloise crushed the hidden microphone in her bedroom.
"Game on, Mother."
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Chapter 5
At two in the morning, the motorcade idled outside the wrought-iron gates of the Ferguson estate in McLean, Virginia.
Two massive, armored Secret Service SUVs bracketed Eloise's car. The neighborhood was dead silent, the sprawling mansions hidden behind high walls and manicured hedges.
Siobhan rolled down her window and pressed the intercom button on the stone pillar.
Static crackled. "State your business," a voice droned. It was Leland Fletcher, the estate's head butler. His tone was dripping with rehearsed arrogance.
"Open the gates, Leland. Miss Eloise is home," Siobhan demanded.
"Ah. Siobhan," Leland replied, his voice oozing fake sympathy. "I'm afraid the Senator and Mrs. Ferguson have retired for the night. The main gate's electronic system is down for maintenance. You'll have to drive around to the service entrance by the dumpsters. I'll have a maid let you in."
Siobhan's face turned red. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. "You son of a bitch, you know she can't walk through the mud in the back-"
Eloise sat in the dark backseat. She didn't feel anger. She felt a cold, clinical anticipation. She pressed a button, rolling down her window. The freezing air rushed in.
She didn't speak to the intercom. She simply looked at the lead SUV.
The driver's side door of the armored vehicle swung open. Agent Alastair Kingston stepped out. His heavy boots crunched against the asphalt. He walked with the terrifying, measured pace of a predator.
He bypassed Siobhan's car and walked directly to the intercom pillar. He didn't press the button. He looked straight up into the infrared security camera mounted on the stone.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his gold Secret Service badge, and slammed it flat against the glass lens of the camera.
"This is Special Agent Kingston, United States Secret Service," Alastair barked, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet street. "Open this gate in five seconds, or I will consider your refusal a federal security threat and breach the perimeter."
Inside the security booth, Leland dropped his coffee mug. It shattered on the floor. "Wait, wait! This is private property-"
Alastair didn't wait. He raised his hand in a sharp, tactical gesture. The two massive Secret Service SUVs surged forward, their heavy reinforced steel bumpers slamming directly into the wrought-iron gates with a deafening metallic screech. The vehicles didn't back down; their engines roared, tires smoking against the asphalt as they physically bowed the metal inward, threatening to tear the entire structure from its stone hinges.
"This is your final warning," The sound transmission system of the manor’s intercom system, low and lethally calm. "Any further delay will be classified as a federal obstruction of a presidential detail. Open the gates, or we will breach."
The silent, terrifying display of raw federal power was infinitely more effective than any siren. Dogs in neighboring estates began to howl. Floodlights across the Ferguson property snapped on, bathing the lawn in harsh white light.
Panic erupted on the other side of the gate. Security guards sprinted out of their booths, waving their hands frantically, terrified that the federal agents were about to run them over.
The heavy wrought-iron gates groaned and began to slide open at maximum speed.
Alastair lowered his hand. The sirens cut off, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. The red and blue lights continued to flash silently, painting the driveway in violent colors. He put his badge away and walked back to his vehicle.
The motorcade surged forward. They didn't take the service road. The heavy tires chewed up the pristine gravel of the main driveway, pulling up right to the steps of the grand portico.
The massive oak doors of the manor flew open.
Senator Marcus Ferguson stormed out, tying the belt of his silk robe. His face was purple with rage. Behind him, Idella Ferguson clutched her pearls, her face pale. Cortez, Eloise's older brother, stood behind them, looking furious. Peeking out from behind Cortez was Jaylene, her cousin, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and playing the terrified victim.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Marcus roared, his voice cracking. "Who authorized sirens on my property?!"
The doors of the SUVs opened simultaneously. Four Secret Service agents stepped out, their hands resting on their belts, their stances wide and tactical. The physical intimidation was absolute.
Alastair walked to Eloise's car. He opened the rear door and held out a hand.
Eloise stepped out into the flashing red and blue lights. She stood tall, ignoring the pain in her ankle, and looked up at her family. The look on their faces was worth every second of the pain.
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7.0
Eight years ago, Alaina forced herself to say the most vicious, heartless things to break up with her fiercely loyal college boyfriend, protecting him from his billionaire family's wrath.
Now, she is a top maxillofacial surgeon, and Jarred Mcknight has returned as the ruthless CEO of Wall Street's most powerful corporation.
Their worlds collide in the ER, but Jarred isn't alone. He is accompanying his rumored heiress fiancée.
His eyes are pure ice. He treats Alaina with a suffocating, clinical detachment, fiercely protecting the heiress from Alaina's medical examination. The professional slap in the face shatters Alaina's heart all over again.
Later, at an exclusive restaurant, Jarred catches Alaina on a miserable, forced blind date. Still believing she left him for money and status, he publicly mocks her for working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder.
Her sleazy date, humiliated by the billionaire's sheer dominance, turns his bruised ego on Alaina. On the dark street outside, the lawyer aggressively grabs her arm, trying to force himself on her.
Alaina thought Jarred despised her. She thought he had completely moved on, leaving her to drown in the memories of the future they never had.
But why did Jarred suddenly explode from the shadows like a lethal predator, brutally snapping the lawyer's wrist just for touching her?
Pinning her trapped against the cold brick wall, Jarred's dark eyes burn with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"Is this the kind of garbage you date now?"
The eight years of separation mean nothing. The billionaire hasn't let her go, and this time, there is no escape.
8.3
For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground."
7.4
My mother was dying and desperately needed a half-million-dollar deposit for an experimental heart surgery by tomorrow.
I swallowed my pride and begged my wealthy husband, Garrick, to save her life.
Instead of helping, he laughed coldly and threw a thick stack of divorce papers right in my face.
"A hen that can't lay eggs gets slaughtered," he sneered, ruthlessly poking my flat stomach.
He revealed that his secretary, my supposed friend Lacey, was already pregnant with his heir.
To him, our three years of marriage was just a business transaction, and now that my family was bankrupt, I was nothing but damaged goods.
He flicked a humiliating five-thousand-dollar check at me as his final act of charity, then locked me out of our townhouse into the freezing, pouring rain.
I had spent years enduring agonizing hormone treatments for a fertility issue that wasn't even my fault, only to be discarded like trash when I needed him the most.
Was my dignity, my absolute devotion, and my mother's life really worth nothing to him?
Driven by pure, reckless desperation, I threw myself directly into the path of a moving Rolls-Royce Phantom on Fifth Avenue.
It belonged to Holden Tillman, the ruthless patriarch of the Tillman empire—and the uncle Garrick lived in absolute terror of.
I thought I was walking into my death, but instead, I became his fiancée, ready to make Garrick and Lacey pay for every tear I shed.
7.9
On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."
8.6
For years, Elvera lived as the despised charity case in the cramped Wright household.
When she caught her foster sister Donita straddling her fiancé, they didn't even panic. Instead, they loudly framed Elvera for stealing a diamond necklace to justify kicking her out.
Her foster parents immediately sided with the cheaters, screaming at her to pack her trash and starve in the gutters. Only her dying foster brother tried to sneak her his medical savings, but the family violently shoved him away, mocking him as a walking corpse.
Standing in the freezing Brooklyn wind, Donita and Crockett followed her outside just to laugh. They waved a crisp twenty-dollar bill in her face, mocking her biological family as a bunch of unemployed street thugs.
They really thought she was going to freeze to death on the pavement with nothing but a faded backpack.
But then a roaring, matte-black supercar pulled up.
The man who stepped out wasn't a street thug; he was her real brother, an FBI task force commander.
He effortlessly snapped Crockett's shoulder out of its socket, put Elvera in the passenger seat, and drove her straight to a sprawling billionaire estate in the Hamptons.
Sitting by the fire in her biological parents' palace, watching them casually display an eight-million-dollar sculpture she had secretly designed, the head butler suddenly walked in.
"Sir, the fake heiress has returned from Europe."
Elvera took a slow sip of her coffee. The real game was finally about to begin.
8.8
Bella Danvers aka Isabella Powell is a 20-year-old college student who encountered the hot and ruthless CEO of the Rinaldi Corporation, Gabriel Rinaldi. They had a forgetful one-night stand that took a turn for the worst. Will he be able to find her before he is forced into an arranged marriage? Will she be able to tell him the news? Or will they be forced apart?