The Heiress's Revenge: Billion Dollar Breakup

Asher’s “one that got away” was finally back in town.

He couldn't wait to blast it all over his Instagram Stories. [ "@Chloe Finally." ] His frat brothers immediately flooded the comments. [ "Bro went through twelve placeholders and finally brought the queen home." ] [ "@Celine Number Twelve, take the hint and pack your bags." ] The absolute audacity.

Asher was the first man breathing to treat me like a backup plan. I thought back to the ultimatum my father handed me. "Celine, you cycle through guys every three months.

It's erratic. You aren't grounded enough to take over the board." "Hold down a stable relationship for a single year.

Do that, and the CEO seat is yours." I reined in my entire lifestyle and locked myself down exclusively for Asher.

Seven days left until the oneyear mark, and he was trying to jump ship early. I scoffed at my screen. It wasn't going to be that easy. I couldn't care less about his heart.

But I was taking that inheritance. Chapter 1 The front door clicked open. I didn't look up from the quarterly reports on my iPad.

Asher froze in the entryway, his fingers intertwined with Chloe’s.

His smile vanished. "Why the hell are you still here?" He stared at me, annoyed. "Was my Story not loud enough for you?" I set the tablet on the coffee table and met his gaze. "Did you forget a minor detail?

My name is on the lease. I pay the three grand a month for this apartment." A flush crept up Asher’s neck. He was an indie musician—decent with a guitar, entirely broke.

For the last eleven months, I funded his life. Groceries, utilities, even the custom Fender strapped to his back.

He cleared his throat, stiffening his spine. "I don’t need your handouts anymore. I can cover it." Chloe sneered, looking me up and down. "Our Asher just signed with Lawrence Media.

He’s going to be a massive star. A little rent money is spare change." Lawrence Media. My father’s empire.

Asher wouldn't have made it past the lobby reception if I hadn't pulled strings with the A&R director. Now he was torching the bridge while he was still standing on it. Cute.

I kept my voice deadpan. "Whatever you say." "But the lease legally expires in exactly seven days. Until then, I’m staying." I had one singular focus. I could not move out.

If I left, my dad would catch wind of the messy breakup. I just needed to ride out this charade for one more week.

Asher scoffed, clearly assuming I was just pathetic and obsessed. "You think camping on my couch is going to make me want you back? You were just Number Twelve.

Nothing else." I finally gave Chloe a proper look. Midtwenties, poured into a skintight slip dress that left nothing to the imagination.

This was the mythical girl he never got over? Tragic taste. Asher didn't wait for my response.

He yanked Chloe toward the primary bedroom. "Sit out here and watch if you want!" "I'm with Chloe now. Enjoy the show." He left the door cracked open. Deliberately.

Less than a minute later, the noise started. Chloe’s breathy, highpitched giggles. Asher’s exaggerated groans. I clenched my fists. It wasn't heartbreak. It was pure rage.

I was the heiress to the Lawrence fortune. I didn't exist to swallow disrespect and listen to a broke musician screw his rebound down the hall.

I marched into the guest room, slammed the door shut, and shoved my AirPods in. Seven days. I can survive this. But the universe hated me. My phone buzzed the next morning.

Dad. "Celine, my birthday gala is tomorrow night. Bring the boyfriend." My stomach dropped. "Dad, you know the narrative. He thinks I’m a corporate drone making sixty grand a year.

Walking him into your VIP party completely blows my cover." He laughed over the phone. "I won’t out you. Tell him you’re working the event.

It’s been nearly a year, Celine." "I want to see the dynamic with my own eyes. If it’s real, I’ll be thrilled for you." Silence hung in the air. I couldn't say no.

Lawrence never micromanaged my life. He built a media monopoly and gave me total freedom. This oneyear ultimatum was his only condition. Chapter 2 "Fine.

I'll bring him." The front door swung open that evening, framing Asher and Chloe in the hallway. They stopped dead in their tracks.

The dining table was loaded down with a massive spread—every single comfort food Asher used to obsess over. Asher frowned. "What is this?

Are you trying to win me back with food?" I completely brushed off the jab. "I have a business proposition for you both.

A massive VIP client is throwing a birthday gala this weekend, and plusones are mandatory." "Asher, fake it as my boyfriend for one night.

Do this, and I pack my bags the second the lease is up. Clean break. No drama." Asher physically recoiled, aggressively shaking his head. "Hell no.

I'm not doing that to Chloe." I pulled a checkbook from my bag, wrote a number, and put it on the table. "Ten thousand dollars.

For one night of your time." The room went dead silent. Asher stared at the zeros on the paper, swallowing hard. I knew his bank account was bleeding dry.

Lawrence Media required all fresh signees to front the cash for an intensive industry bootcamp, and it wasn't cheap.

He desperately needed that cash injection. "But—" He threw a hesitant, sideways glance at Chloe. "Deal." Chloe stepped forward with a fake, sweet smile. "Come on, Asher." "We should do her a solid.

A clean break is exactly what we all want." She looked at him closely. "But ten grand isn't going to cut it. Make it fifteen." I nearly choked on a laugh.

The girl was hustling harder than a Wall Street broker. "Done." I didn't even blink, ripping up the old check and writing a new one.

Asher looked frantically between the two of us before finally giving a stiff nod. He frowned, acting like he was making a huge sacrifice. I rolled my eyes internally.

I was dropping fifteen grand to rent his presence for three hours, and he had the nerve to play the victim?

Lawrence’s birthday gala took over the penthouse ballroom of the Lawrence Plaza Hotel. The floor was packed with elite industry insiders, tech giants, and massive brand partners.

Asher and I blended perfectly into the sea of tailored suits and designer gowns. Lawrence worked the room for a solid hour before finally zeroing in on my location.

I plastered on a polite, professional smile. "Mr.

Lawrence, I'd love to introduce my boyfriend, Asher." My father gripped Asher’s hand, his sharp eyes raking over him from head to toe. "Sharp kid.

Hear you're in the music scene?" "Yes, sir.

I just signed with Lawrence Media." Asher shrank, his voice dropping. "One of your subsidiary labels." Lawrence shot me a highly loaded, sideways glance.

His eyes practically screamed, You pulled strings for this guy? I stared blankly at a chandelier, playing completely dumb.

My father clapped Asher firmly on the shoulder. "Good to see hunger in the younger generation.

Keep at it." Asher actually managed to play the part of a devoted boyfriend perfectly for the next two hours.

Right before the closing speeches, I slipped away to the powder room. "Oops. Hope I'm not interrupting." I whipped around.

Chloe was leaning against the marble doorframe, a sickly sweet grin plastered across her face.

I marched over and grabbed her elbow, pulling her inside the bathroom. "What the hell is your angle? We had a deal for tonight.

Why are you crashing?" Chloe yanked her arm back and crossed them over her chest, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "To blow your little cover, obviously." I stood still.

She covered her mouth, giggling at the panic she thought she saw on my face. "That matte black Mercedes you drove here costs at least a hundred and fifty grand." She stared at the keys. "Someone pulling in a basic corporate salary can't even afford the insurance on that thing." "You've got a sugar daddy footing the bill, don't you?

Some massive secret cash flow you're hiding from Asher." My brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

That Mercedes was literally the cheapest, most understated beater in my entire garage. Chapter 3 I let out a sharp breath. "It's financed.

I needed it to keep up appearances for client meetings—" "I don't care how you pay for it." Chloe cut me off. "Sign the title over to me, and your little secret stays safe." I stared at her.

The sheer greed radiating off her was suffocating. She smirked at my silence. "Fine.

I'll just march right back into that ballroom." "I'll tell everyone you dragged your ex here to fake a relationship just to land a deal.

A total fraud." She pivoted toward the heavy doors. I stepped immediately into her path. "Stop." A victorious, predatory smile stretched across her face. "Looks like Mr.

Lawrence is a massive account for you, huh? Consider this the cost of doing business. You can't be stingy if you want to play in the big leagues." I rolled my eyes.

She could spin whatever delusion she wanted. But she was right about one thing—paying her off was my only play. "Fine.

The car is yours." I pulled up the DMV portal on my phone and processed the digital title transfer right in front of her. Ten minutes later, Chloe’s screen lit up.

She glanced at the notification, a viciously satisfied smile curving her lips. "Thanks, babe." I held her gaze, refusing to back down. "Does Asher know you operate like this?" She shrugged, completely unbothered. "He’s obsessed with the eighteenyearold version of me.

Not the twentysixyearold standing right here." "Eventually, he’ll figure out that even the original girl can’t compete with a ghost. So, I’m cashing in while the stock is high.

I'm not some hopeless romantic like you, dropping thousands on rent for a guy." She turned and clicked down the hallway without looking back. I stood rooted to the tile.

She was a walking red flag, but she was absolutely right. She saw the game way clearer than I did.

I slipped back into the ballroom just as Lawrence pulled out his phone. "Asher, let me get your Instagram. Keep in touch." I stopped cold.

If my dad saw Asher's blatant hardlaunch Story with Chloe, the entire facade would detonate. I closed the distance in three long strides, sliding seamlessly between them. "Mr.

Lawrence, Asher's battery actually just died. Maybe next time." I leaned in close, dropping my voice to a whisper meant only for him. "You’re the CEO.

Exchanging socials with a brandnew, entrylevel signee crosses a professional boundary.

It doesn't look great." Lawrence paused, mulling it over. "Fair point." He slid the phone back into his tuxedo pocket.

Asher’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he kept his mouth shut. The ride back to the apartment was suffocatingly silent.

Asher radiated hostility from the passenger seat, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly what triggered his mood.

The second the apartment door clicked shut, he ripped off his suit jacket and hurled it onto the couch. "I didn't realize you were this easy." I stopped breathing for a second. "You were completely all over Mr.

Lawrence tonight. Did you sleep with him to secure your little client deal?" My brows pulled together. He actually thought I was sleeping with my own father.

The sheer absurdity of it temporarily paralyzed me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of an explanation. "What?

Are you jealous?" Asher let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Jealous? Please." "You’re just Number Twelve. I’m not dirtying my track record with someone like you." Number Twelve. Again.

If it weren't for that multibillion dollar inheritance riding on this oneyear mark, I would have slapped the taste right out of his mouth. "And what about you, Asher?" He blinked, genuinely baffled.

I leveled a glacial stare at him. "You cycled through twelve different girls. Does that not make you dirty?" "You used all of us as pathetic placeholders.

Is that clean?" Dark red flushed his neck. His voice spiked, echoing off the living room walls. "I was staying loyal to love!

Loyal to my own heart!" "Chloe is the only woman I will ever love. Everyone else was just collateral damage!" Loyal to love.

He actually managed to gaslight himself into thinking his toxic manipulation was some tragic, poetic romance. I almost wanted to give him a standing ovation.

I had cycled through my fair share of boyfriends. Asher barely ranked number fifty. Chapter 4 The reason I cycled through them every few months? They always asked for cash.

My boundary was nonnegotiable. Ask for a bailout, get dumped. I loved the thrill of dating, but I refused to play the sugar mama. I never owed anyone a damn thing. But Asher?

Parading around holding his "loyal to love" banner while acting like absolute trash. Asher grabbed his phone. "Chloe is the only one I want.

I’m hardlaunching us on Instagram right now.

I’m proposing!" I stepped toward him. "Don't!" The word ripped from my throat. "Give me four days!" Asher shot me a look of pure bewilderment.

I forced my breathing to level out, keeping my tone strictly business. "I’m closing a massive corporate account with Lawrence Media." "I just need four days to finalize the paperwork.

After that, I pack my bags. Clean break, exactly like we agreed." Asher’s upper lip curled in disgust. "You monetize everything, don't you? Even a relationship.

You make me sick." I couldn't care less about his moral high ground. I only cared about the endgame.

I swallowed my pride, dropping my hostility. "Asher, I carried us this entire year. I covered the lease. I paid for the groceries.

I bought that custom Fender." "I’m not asking you to do anything.

Just exist quietly for four days." I thought throwing my financial support in his face might spark a shred of decency. It only fueled his contempt. "Number Twelve!

When are you going to drop this psychotic obsession!" The bedroom door swung open. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, clearly eavesdropping.

A predatory glint sparked in her eyes. "What kind of contract are we talking about? Give us a number." I pulled a figure out of thin air. "Three million dollar deal.

The commission bonus is a hundred and fifty grand." Chloe’s eyes went wide. "And what’s our cut for playing along?" Reality clicked into place. She was shaking me down again.

I ground my teeth together. "I’ll split it. Seventyfive grand." I paused, letting the bait dangle. "You guys want a wedding, right?

That takes cash." Asher opened his mouth to shut it down, but the word wedding caught him off guard. He hesitated.

He was a broke indie artist—he couldn't afford a venue deposit, let alone a ring. He barely nodded before Chloe cut him off. "No!

I want the entire hundred and fifty grand!" Asher and I both froze. Tears abruptly welled up in Chloe’s eyes.

She turned her watery gaze on Asher. "Asher, my mom’s heart is failing." "The cardiologists need seventyfive grand upfront for the surgery.

Then there’s the rehab clinic, the private nurses… I just didn't know how to tell you." A single, perfectly timed tear spilled down her cheek. "I was desperate.

I was literally looking into blackmarket organ brokers to sell my kidney." She let out a choked sob, burying her face in her hands. Her acting was atrocious.

But Asher bought it completely.

He wrapped his arms around her, his face twisting in agony. "Chloe, why didn't you come to me sooner?" "I couldn't bear to be a burden…" she whimpered, pressing her face into his chest and crying harder.

Asher lifted his head and locked eyes with me. "Fine. A hundred and fifty grand." I looked at him. Beneath the poetic artist facade, he was exactly like the rest of them.

Just another guy digging his hands into my pockets.

I kept my face deadpan. "Deal." Chapter 5 I grabbed a pen and scrawled a formal IOU on a legal pad. "I, Celine, owe Asher one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, payable within thirty days." Chloe snatched the paper, her eyes scanning the ink before she carefully folded it away, shooting me a smug smile.

I mirrored her smile. Four days left. Let's see who gets the last laugh when the clock runs out. Day four arrived. My suitcases sat fully packed by the door.

Two hours remained until my oneyear ultimatum officially ended. For the last ninetysix hours, I swallowed the sounds of Asher and Chloe hooking up in the primary bedroom.

I watched them make out on my couch and absorbed Asher’s constant, petty jabs. "Number Twelve, take out the trash." "Number Twelve, get out of the bathroom.

Chloe needs to shower." "Number Twelve, this pasta is garbage. Chloe can't even eat it." Number Twelve. He entirely erased my name, reducing me to a pathetic placeholder.

I bit my tongue and took it. This morning, Asher’s phone rang. "Are you serious?

Hell yes!" he practically vibrated with adrenaline. "Lawrence Media is greenlighting my debut studio album!

They got a platinumselling producer to write the lead track!" Chloe shrieked, throwing her arms around his neck. "Asher, you're going to be massive!" I sat in the guest room, a dark smirk curving my lips.

A studio album with Lawrence Media? An Alist producer? I pulled those strings a month ago. Back then, I actually thought Asher was a decent guy worth investing in.

The sheer irony of it all burned. Asher’s voice drifted through the thin drywall. "The second the clock strikes midnight, I'm hardlaunching us." I shook my head in the dark.

Did the idiot even read his own contract?

Page four, section seven of his Lawrence Media agreement had a strict PR clause. [ During the contract period, the Artist is strictly prohibited from publicly disclosing their relationship status without prior label approval.

Any unauthorized disclosure constitutes a material breach of contract… ] The penalty for that breach? I chuckled under my breath. The fallout was going to be spectacular.

One hour left.

I dialed my family's estate manager. "Bring the car around at midnight." Asher leaned against my doorframe, raising a condescending brow. "Already lined up your next sugar daddy?" I flashed him a tight smile. "We're breaking up.

Why do you care who's picking me up?" He let out a harsh scoff. "Number Twelve, get over yourself." He pointed a rigid finger at me. "Remember this—keep my name out of your mouth in public.

I'm about to blow up. Don't try to ride my coattails." I just smiled, letting the silence stretch. Midnight struck. I fired off a text to Lawrence. Dad, the oneyear mark is up.

Three pulsing dots appeared before his reply flashed on the screen: a single thumbsup emoji. Good girl. Tomorrow morning, I announce you as the sole heir to Lawrence Media.

All the tension drained from my shoulders. I finally smiled. I checked the GPS tracker my driver sent. Ten minutes out. I dragged my heavy Rimowa trunks into the living room.

Honestly, I planned to throw most of this cheap stuff away, but I refused to leave a single scrap behind for Asher and Chloe to touch.

My screen illuminated with an Instagram notification. Asher actually did it.

He dropped a grid post right on the dot. [ "@Chloe The rest of my life starts now." ] Chloe’s comment pinned at the top a second later. [ "@Asher Forever and always." ] Their mutuals instantly swarmed the comment section. [ "Whoa, the hard launch!

Are we hearing wedding bells??" ] [ "Bro finally locked down his soulmate.

Congrats man!" ] Asher and Chloe shared a nauseatingly sweet look before smashing their mouths together right in front of my face. Three seconds later, Asher’s phone began to ring.

Chapter 6 I glanced at the caller ID flashing on his screen. It was time. The executioner had finally arrived. Asher tapped the speakerphone button. "Asher!

Are you out of your damn mind?" his manager’s roar echoed through the apartment. "What the hell did you just post?

Delete it right now!" "The contract explicitly states zero public relationship disclosures during the promotional period!

The penalty for breach is one point five million dollars!" "Legal is already blowing up my phone! Look at the mess you made! Orders just came down from the top.

Your album recording is officially on ice." "Scrub your Instagram right now and drag your ass into the office tomorrow morning to explain yourself!" Asher froze. I watched him.

Hilarious. He had no idea the real fun hadn't even started yet. "What one point five million? I didn't—" Asher's lips actually trembled.

He whipped his head toward me, pure fury contorting his features. "Did you know that clause was in there?" I raised an eyebrow. "I did." "Why the hell didn't you warn me?" "Are you illiterate?

You signed the paperwork." When he inked the deal, his head was entirely in the clouds, dreaming of soldout arenas. He couldn't be bothered to read a fiftypage legal document.

Back then, when I tried to highlight the nonnegotiable clauses, he rolled his eyes and told me to stop nagging.

Asher’s face turned red. "Then why didn't you stop me before I hit post!" I let out a dry laugh. "Stop you? Why would I owe you that?" "I’m just Number Twelve.

Nothing else." I lobbed his exact words right back at him. He choked on his next breath. His chest heaved, but no sound came out.

I held his gaze, my eyes glittering with icy satisfaction. The message was loud and clear. Yes, I let you sabotage yourself.

I refused to let him off the hook. "Every standard label contract has a morality or PR clause.

You want the popstar fame, but you also want to flaunt your girlfriend?" "You don't get both. Unless you're banking on raw talent.

Real vocal powerhouses don't care about alienating a few delusional fangirls." Asher clamped his jaw shut.

He had auditioned for countless reality singing shows and never once broke into the finals. Not a single track he wrote ever gained traction.

His socalled fanbase barely scraped a hundred active followers. Watching his face crumble, I felt sorry for him. Not for him. For myself.

I actually wasted nearly a year of my life on this loser. Chloe stood frozen, her eyes glazed over as the gears turned in her head.

I wasn't sparing her, either. "Shouldn't you two do some damage control on Instagram?

Your stans are probably losing their minds right now." They snapped out of their trance and scrambled for their phones.

Sure enough, the comment section under the post was already imploding. [ "Wait, Asher’s getting married?

Didn't he just say in an interview he wouldn't settle down until he won a Grammy?" ] [ "The girl he never got over?

Then what about the fans who actually supported his broke ass through the underground days?" ] [ "He just signed a label deal. This has to be a PR stunt." ] [ "Asher, talk to us.

What is going on?" ] I smirked at the chaotic feed. "Oh, right. You’re going to have to do labelmandated showmances now.

Fake dates for the paparazzi." I shifted my gaze to Chloe. "Are you going to be cool watching him stage PR stunts with other girls?" Chapter 7 Chloe’s eyes got red.

Her entire foundation was built on pure insecurity. It was the only reason she practically forced the hard launch tonight.

She was terrified that the second Asher blew up and tasted real fame, he would drop her for a massive upgrade.

Asher scrambled to do damage control, pulling her tightly against his chest. "Chloe, stop. I'm not leaving you behind." "We delete the post right now.

We'll drop a notes app apology claiming we got hacked. The label and the stans will buy it." I gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Sure.

But that one point five million dollar breach of contract? You're still on the hook for every single penny." Asher shot me a look of pure hate. One point five million.

To a broke indie kid, that was an unimaginable death sentence. He was drowning in massive corporate debt before his career even left the ground.

Chloe suddenly lunged, her manicured nails digging fiercely into my forearm. "You pay the million and a half! I'll let Asher play your fake boyfriend for another entire month.

Just close a few more of your corporate deals!" Chloe panicked. "You made a hundred and fifty grand off one client!

Just sign more contracts and you'll make the million back!" I laughed out loud. She actually thought she was still dealing with the pathetic girl paying her boyfriend's rent.

I yanked my arm out of her grip. "Not happening." "You're supposed to be obsessed with him!" Her voice shattered into a hysterical shriek. "You funded his entire life!

He's literally facing financial ruin right now, how can you just—" "Do I look stupid to you?" The absolute freeze in my tone snapped her jaw shut.

Chloe stared, completely paralyzed. I leaned in, saying every single word slowly. "You miscalculated. I was never a lovesick groupie." "I see the board just as clearly as you do.

The difference is, I actually hold all the cards." A heavy doublehonk cut through the tension in the room. A midnightblack Maybach idled right outside the lobby glass.

Seconds later, my estate manager stepped into the apartment, trailed by two uniformed staff members. "Miss Celine, your suite is prepped at the estate.

Chairman Lawrence is waiting for you." I offered a clipped nod, gesturing for the staff to take my Rimowa trunks. Asher shortcircuited. "Miss Celine?

Who the hell calls you that?" He finally understood. "You actually are his sugar baby!

Playing the untouchable heiress—you're just Lawrence's latest mistress, aren't you!" The panic vanished from Chloe’s eyes, instantly replaced by a predatory thrill.

She thought she just struck gold. "Exactly!" "The entire industry knows Chairman Lawrence is devoted to his wife. You're a homewrecker!

We'll leak this to the tabloids and completely ruin you!" She whipped out her iPhone, hitting record and shoving the lens right into my personal space. "Get a good look, TikTok!

This trashy golddigger is sleeping with a married billionaire!" A sick, triumphant grin stretched across her face. "If you don't want this going viral, you better wire that one point five million to Asher right now!

Because once Lawrence drops you to save his own PR, you'll be back in the gutter!" I gave a short laugh. "Are you entirely serious right now?" Chloe gave a sharp, definitive nod. "Dead serious." I casually flipped my own phone around, revealing the active Voice Memos screen recording our entire conversation. "Defamation and felony extortion.

I have it all on tape." The color instantly drained from Chloe’s face. I stepped directly into her camera frame, my expression completely iced over. "Manager.

Enlighten them." The estate manager squared his shoulders, his voice projecting with absolute, lethal authority. "This is the sole biological daughter of Chairman Lawrence.

The exclusive heir to the Lawrence Media empire. Miss Celine Lawrence." The iPhone slipped right through Chloe’s fingers and slammed into the hardwood floor