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Chapter 115 – A Heart That Knows
Last Updated:
2025-03-08 19:09:10
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Rise Of The Heiress Chapter 116 – When You Touch My Soul
The name hung in the air like a curse. Lucien D’Avanti. The Serpent. Isabella blinked, taking a step back. “You know him?” Alexander’s jaw clenched. “I more than know him. He’s the reason I built Blackwood the way I did. The reason I swore never to trust anyone. And now… he’s the reason I’m afraid for you.” She studied his face—so still, so tightly controlled—but his eyes betrayed something deeper. Rage. Guilt. A haunting. “What did he do to you?” she whispered. Alexander turned away, running a hand through his hair before facing her again. “He was my mentor once. My father’s ally. The man who taught me the rules of survival in a world that doesn’t forgive weakness.” He paused, breathing deeply. “I was seventeen when I met him. I idolized him at first. He was sharp, powerful, untouchable. But underneath the charm, Lucien was a snake—poisonous and cold. He didn’t care about loyalty. He cared about control.” “What happened?” she asked softly. Alexander laughed bitterly. “He tri
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The night after their confession passed like a dream suspended in fragile starlight. For the first time in what felt like forever, Isabella Laurent woke up feeling safe. Not because she was hidden away in Alexander’s sprawling estate, surrounded by state-of-the-art security and guards trained to kill—but because of the steady warmth beside her. The heartbeat that thundered like a vow as he held her close. The soft sound of his breathing that matched her own. She turned slightly under the thick sheets, eyes scanning his face. In sleep, Alexander looked… younger. The hard lines of power and calculated dominance melted away, revealing a man not broken but rebuilt—by loss, by purpose, and now, by her. And she was falling for him. Deeper, faster, harder. With every stolen moment. He stirred as if he could feel her gaze, his eyes fluttering open. “Good morning,” she whispered. “Mmm,” he murmured, lips brushing her forehead. “If every morning starts like this, I might just consider ta
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The ride back to the estate was cloaked in a dense silence. Not the heavy, uncomfortable kind, but the kind that builds when two hearts are beating too fast for words. Isabella stared down at the lockbox resting on her lap. It was surprisingly heavy—perhaps from the weight of secrets, not just the metal. Her aunt’s appearance had rattled something deep in her. Not just confusion or fear… but possibility. Could her entire life have been a lie? Was her mother really just another player in a much larger game? And what did that make her? She glanced at Alexander. One hand on the wheel, jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But she could see it—he was fighting the urge to spiral into protectiveness. He always did when something threatened her world. “You don’t have to fix this for me,” she whispered. He glanced at her, surprised. “I know.” “But you want to.” He sighed, his voice low. “I’d burn down everything just to keep you safe.” Isabella reached over, placing her hand ge
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The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of Montclair Manor, its once-grand facade now faded with time and neglect. Ivy clawed up the sides of the building, like nature had tried to reclaim what power had once built. Isabella stared out the window, her breath caught somewhere between awe and apprehension. “It looks… haunted,” she murmured. Alexander stepped out first and came around to open her door. “Most powerful places are.” She took his hand and stepped into the crisp morning air. The manor loomed over them like a monument to a forgotten empire, and yet, despite the silence, something about it whispered of memories still clinging to the walls. The key her mother left was warm in her palm, almost pulsing like it remembered the hands that once held it. Alexander glanced at the iron gate. “No security. No staff.” Isabella nodded slowly. “It was abandoned after my grandmother passed. My mother never spoke of it. Just once, she told me: ‘That house swallows what it loves.’” Alex
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The moon hung low, its silver light spilling across the grounds of Montclair Manor. Isabella sat by the window, staring out into the sprawling garden, now shrouded in the cold darkness of night. Her fingers absently traced the edges of the book that had become a constant companion—a reminder of everything she had lost and everything she stood to gain. The past few days had been a blur of uncertainty. Valerie’s warning still echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the world she had been born into but had never truly understood. “When you love someone like him, he becomes your weakness.” Isabella shut her eyes, trying to block out the thought. She wasn’t sure if Valerie’s words were meant as a warning or a challenge. Alexander, standing beside her, had been nothing but supportive, but Isabella couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that every moment they spent together made her more vulnerable. But love—real love—was never meant to make you weaker. Was it? The door creaked open, and
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The morning after their shared confession arrived with soft golden light bleeding through the sheer curtains of Isabella’s room. A gentle breeze stirred the fabric, carrying the scent of roses from the garden below. The world outside was peaceful, but Isabella’s heart raced with a quiet, stirring energy. She lay beneath the crisp sheets, her body still warm from Alexander’s embrace hours ago. Though he’d left her room before dawn out of respect and routine, his scent lingered faintly on her pillow—citrusy, clean, and undeniably him. A part of her missed the weight of his presence already, but the thought of last night sent a tingle down her spine. It hadn’t been passionate in the traditional sense; no frantic hands or whispered promises of forever. It had been deeper, a shared vulnerability that peeled away another layer of fear. He had made her feel seen—safe. And yet, with the safety came a nervous flutter. What now? Isabella rose from the bed slowly, wrapping a silk robe around
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The estate was quiet that night, the kind of silence that blankets everything like fresh snow. Isabella stood by the floor-length window of her bedroom, staring out at the moonlit gardens below. Her fingers held a cup of lukewarm tea she’d forgotten to drink, and her heart was heavy with thoughts she couldn’t quite untangle. Her conversation with Julian earlier still echoed in her mind. If you don’t want to be your father, then what do you want to be? She didn’t know the answer—not yet. But for the first time, she was beginning to realize that the question itself was a gift. She had a choice. Her father had controlled everything, including her future. But now, she held the reins. Still, it terrified her. A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she said without looking. She didn’t need to. She already knew it was him. Alexander stepped inside with the ease of a man who didn’t need permission anymore. There was something magnetic about him tonight—someth
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The sky outside the estate had turned overcast, casting the once-golden gardens in a gray, muted tone. The kind of weather that invited warm blankets, unread books, and long, unspoken thoughts. Isabella sat curled on the settee in the reading room, her phone abandoned beside her. She hadn’t touched it in hours. The internet was still ablaze with speculations and rumors. The media had spun her relationship into a political scandal, a PR stunt, a desperate power grab. But none of it mattered now. Because Alexander Blackwood had proposed. And for one terrifying, beautiful moment, time had stopped. She hadn’t said yes. Not yet. But she hadn’t said no either. Her fingers absently traced the edge of the velvet cushion as she replayed his words over and over again. “Not for strategy. Not to silence the tabloids. But because I love you.” That was what undid her. Not the timing. Not the chaos. But how simple and unguarded his confession had been. “Still hiding in here?” His voice, warm
Last Updated : 2025-03-08
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The air was thick with tension as Ryan stood over Catherine, her wrists bound with zip ties. She glared at him, defiant even in defeat. The gunfire had stopped, and the only sounds in the dimly lit compound were the echoes of footsteps and the ragged breathing of his team.Sophia stood beside him, her expression unreadable. Lena and Dante secured the exits, ensuring no one else would escape. They had won this battle—but the war wasn’t over yet.Ryan knelt in front of Catherine, his voice dangerously calm. “Start talking.”Catherine scoffed, her lip curling in amusement. “You’re still as stubborn as ever, Ryan.”He grabbed her by the collar, pulling her closer. “You leaked our location. You set us up. Tell me who you’re working for.”Her smirk didn’t waver, but her eyes darkened. “You already know, don’t you?”Ryan’s jaw tightened. He had his suspicions, but he needed confirmation.Lena stepped forward, her laptop open in her arms. “I traced her communications. She’s been in direct con
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Rise Of The Heiress Chapter 146: Checkmate
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Rise Of The Heiress Chapter 145: A Dangerous Game
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The city was on edge.With Volkov gone, a power vacuum had been left in his wake. Rival syndicates had wasted no time moving in, each one vying for control over his crumbling empire.Ryan had no interest in the fight.He had spent years building his own world—one that wasn’t dictated by the endless cycle of bloodshed and betrayal. But now, standing in the dimly lit safe house, he realized that escape was never truly an option.Lena sat at the table, absently twirling a knife between her fingers. Dante leaned against the wall, his usual smirk absent for once.The air was thick with unspoken words.“We need to decide our next move,” Lena said, breaking the silence.Ryan exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “We stay out of it.”Dante let out a low whistle. “That’s cute, but you do realize that’s not how this works, right?”Ryan shot him a look.Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—people are already looking to you as the next big player.”Lena’s gaze dark
Rise Of The Heiress Chapter 142: The Aftermath of a War
The world felt strangely silent.Ryan stood at the edge of the ruined shipping port, the scent of smoke and gunpowder lingering in the air. The waves crashed against the docks, a rhythmic contrast to the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago.Volkov was dead. His empire shattered.And yet, the weight on Ryan’s shoulders refused to lift.Lena stepped beside him, arms crossed. She had patched up the wound on his shoulder, but he could tell she was still watching him with concern.“You’re quiet,” she said.Ryan exhaled, his grip tightening on the railing. “Just thinking.”Dante walked up behind them, rubbing his neck. “We should be celebrating. We pulled off the impossible.”Lena shot him a tired look. “We barely made it out alive.”Dante smirked. “That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”Ryan shook his head. “There’s still one loose end.”Lena’s expression darkened. “The leak.”Someone had sold them out before the attack on Volkov’s hideout. Someone had warned him they were coming.And Rya
