The Heiress Strikes Back

The red wine bottle exploded against the woman's head, raining glass shards across the floor.

I stood dead center in the VIP lounge, locking eyes with my husband, Tristan. "Go home, or get your skull cracked next.

Pick one." The circle of trustfund babies stumbled backward, scrambling to a safe distance. The woman sitting beside him stiffened.

Deliberately leaning in, she brushed her bright, lipstickpainted mouth against his ear. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she shot me a blatant look of provocation. "Tristan, I'm back.

Are you really going back to that loveless house with her?" Chapter 1 The VIP lounge fell so dead silent I could hear the uneven breathing of everyone in the room.

Tristan slowly lifted his eyelids to look at me. The tight set of his jaw and the subtle twitch of a muscle in his cheek screamed his impatience.

The circle of trustfund babies, terrified of getting caught in the crossfire, silently backed away to a safe distance.

I stood planted in front of them, gripping the neck of a wine bottle, perfectly still.

After a beat, a cold smirk tipped the corner of Tristan's mouth. "Who called my wife?" The moment the words left his lips, all the color drained from the girl sitting next to him.

She looked like she might shatter into a million pieces.

She clung to Tristan's arm, her voice trembling. "Tristan, are you really going back to her?" A dark chuckle escaped my throat.

I dragged a chair over, scraping the legs loudly against the floor, and sat down to meet her eyes. "Sadie, while I still have a shred of patience left, I suggest you get the hell out of here." A single tear slipped down her cheek. "If you know who I am, do you know—" I cut her off. "I know.

I know you're the 'one that got away.' He still keeps a picture of you tucked away in his study." A bashful flush crept up Sadie's neck.

Her eyes suddenly sparkled, and she gently rested her head on Tristan's shoulder. "Tristan, I'm back. Divorce her." "After all these years, marrying you is still my biggest dream.

I know you're not happy.

You've suffered so much all these years." Tristan tried to maintain his usual poker face, but the pulsing vein at his temple gave away the storm brewing underneath.

He raised his hand, reaching out to stroke Sadie's back. I scoffed, shattering their little touching reunion. "Tristan, looks like you're not planning on going home tonight.

My apologies, then." I shifted my grip on the bottle. I raised my arm high and brought the heavy red wine bottle crashing straight down toward Sadie's head. Smash!

Piercing screams erupted in the lounge, mingling with the explosive sound of shattering glass. Sadie stared, deathly pale, at Tristan.

He had pulled her into his arms to shield her at the last second. Blood, mixed with dark red wine, gushed freely from a gash on his forehead. Sadie scrambled out of his embrace.

With trembling hands, she helped him ease into a seat. She frantically grabbed a fistful of tissues from the table and pressed them desperately against his bleeding forehead.

The tissues soaked through with crimson almost instantly. "Tristan! Tristan, are you okay? Are you okay…" Sadie whipped around.

Her face twisted as she pointed a shaking finger at me. "You absolute psycho! Are you trying to kill someone?!

How could Tristan ever marry a lunatic like you?!" Tristan took a moment to steady himself.

He grabbed some fresh tissues, wiping the gruesome mix of blood and liquor leaking into his eyes, and grabbed Sadie's arm. "Sadie, don't provoke her.

Are you hurt anywhere?" Sadie let out a pitiful sob and held out her hand. There, on her skin, was a microscopic, barelythere scratch that hadn't even drawn a single drop of blood.

Tristan immediately shot up, panic flashing in his eyes.

He carefully cradled her hand like it was made of fragile spun glass and started leading her toward the door. "Why didn't you say you were hurt?

Come on, I'm taking you to the ER right now." Chapter 2 I looked down at my hand hanging by my side.

Blood dripped from my fingertips, one drop after another, sinking into the plush carpet and vanishing without a trace. I had been grinding at the corporation all day.

Between entertaining highstakes clients, I only managed a few bites of a sandwich for lunch.

The second I finally clocked out and saw the texts tipped off to me, I rushed straight to the club. Tristan. I was exhausted, starving, running on fumes… and bleeding.

How did he become such a stranger? This wasn't the Tristan from our childhood—the boy who had scraped his hands raw and taken a bloody beating just to drag me away from kidnappers.

I clenched my jaw, shoving down the nausea churning in my stomach. My fingers dug so hard into the edge of the table my knuckles turned white, but I kept my spine ramrod straight.

I refused to show a single ounce of vulnerability in front of this cheating bastard and his pathetic mistress. I heard someone call out to him, "Tristan, Celine is bleeding too.

She looks awful!" Tristan's voice drifted back from down the hall, cold and distant. "She's tough. She can handle it herself." I lifted my chin, watching his retreating figure.

He didn't even hesitate. Fine. This just meant that when I finally pulled the net tight to destroy him, I wouldn't have to feel a shred of guilt.

Glancing up, I looked at the circle of trustfund babies, notorious throughout the ultrarich zip codes. They had dropped their usual arrogant swagger.

They just stood there obediently, their eyes wide with genuine concern for me. I forced a tight smile and waved my good hand. "I'm starving. Be useful, boys." "Yes!

Right away, Celine!" Logan—the heir to the club's ownership—was the most eager.

He immediately snapped his fingers, ordering his staff to clear the shattered glass and bring out a fresh spread. I watched them scramble around the suite.

It looked exactly like when we were kids, trailing behind Tristan and me, calling us their role models.

When exactly did I stop being 'Celine' in their eyes, and just become 'Tristan's wife'? Probably right around the time I was kidnapped by my nanny at five years old.

Tristan, only three years older, had miraculously tracked the microscopic breadcrumbs the nanny left behind, finding me before the cops even had a lead.

I still remember waking up from a blackout, slumped over his scrawny back. He was gritting his teeth, stumbling out of that terrifying abandoned warehouse with me.

That image was burned into my brain forever. The older generation always joked that for the rest of my life, Tristan would be my sole exception—the only weakness I'd ever allow.

But then, of course, Tristan found his 'one true love.' Unlike me—who lost my mother to that kidnapping and was ruthlessly molded into the perfect, unfeeling corporate heir, trained only to secure the family empire and seek vengeance—Sadie was different.

Sadie would never raise her voice at him. She would never aggressively force him to study financial journals or master multiple foreign languages to stay ahead.

She would just sit quietly by his side, smiling at him softly. She would act like the perfect, traditional housewife, personally baking him apple pies for dinner.

She was willing to spend endless hours sitting next to him, gazing up with worshipful eyes as he rambled on about corporate mergers she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Everything she did for him… I simply couldn't do. My environment had hardwired me to calculate leverage, weigh pros and cons, and secure the bottom line.

That was, until Sadie threw a massive tantrum because Tristan was simply too rich. She claimed she could never fit into his world.

She turned on her heel and fled halfway across the globe. Tristan didn't chase her. I knew exactly why. He was insanely ambitious.

He wanted total control of his family's empire, and he wanted my family's empire, too.

And until he had his hands wrapped around the throats of both corporations, he would never give me up for Sadie.

So, when Tristan finally dropped to one knee and proposed, I said yes without blinking an eye. He gave me the grandest, most extravagant romance money could possibly buy.

I enjoyed every second of it in total peace. Because I knew, clearer than anyone else, that his empire, and my empire, would ultimately belong to me.

All the beautiful fantasies he built with his money were just me enjoying my future assets in advance.

Chapter 3 I stared down at my food, rapidly running through my master plan in my head. I had plotted this for over a decade. I refused to allow a single misstep.

Maybe the silence dragged on too long, because Logan finally snapped. He slammed his hand flat against the table and shot up. "Celine!

You've never held back on any woman hovering around Tristan! Why are you rolling over and playing dead today?!" Way to hit the nerve. The entire table instantly went dead silent.

I forced a tight smile. "Because she's Sadie." The 'one that got away' always delivers a fatal blow. I pulled out my phone. The screen was blank. Not a single call, zero texts.

By now, Sadie's microscopic scratch had probably fully healed. Just as I predicted, Tristan never came home that night. I knew my era was finally here.

When the clock struck eight, I buttoned up my designer blazer, masked the dark bags under my eyes with heavy foundation, and slipped into the back of my chauffeured car exactly on schedule.

I never expected to see Sadie inside corporate headquarters.

She was sitting at the assistant's desk just outside Tristan's office, wearing a brandnew, perfectly tailored business suit.

The second she saw me walking down the corridor, she popped up, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile. "Good morning, Celine." The smug little curve of her lips, paired with her innocent, harmless face, made my vision burn.

My face went icecold.

I buzzed the HR Director up immediately and tore into him right in the middle of the bullpen, demanding to know how any random stray dog could just waltz into the executive floor.

Sadie turned bright crimson, looking like she wanted the marble floor to swallow her whole. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Under my blistering interrogation, she couldn't squeeze out a single syllable. I was genuinely furious, and nobody dared to breathe in my direction.

But after dropping a few more threats, the whole scene suddenly bored me. I waved my hand at the HR Director. "Call security and have her thrown out immediately.

As for her severance, tell her to prepare for a lawsuit from my legal team." Sadie, who had been staring at her shoes this entire time, suddenly snapped her head up.

Tears streamed down her face. "Celine, I'm begging you. I really need this job." "Please, don't fire me.

Your world is so high up on a pedestal, and I can only survive off the crumbs you toss down.

Are you going to strip away the tiny shred of dignity I have left?" What a classic, pathetic little victim act.

I shifted my gaze past her fragile little shoulders, staring dead at the heavy oak door behind her. Exactly on cue, the door clicked open.

Tristan stepped out, his face carved from ice. "Celine, you were born into money, but that doesn't give you a free pass to bully people.

She is my executive assistant, not yours." With just that one sentence, the hierarchy in his heart was clear. He closed the distance and deliberately grabbed Sadie's hand.

Sweeping a hard glare across the entire bullpen, his voice boomed. "Starting today, Sadie is my personal executive assistant.

I take full responsibility for every single word she says and everything she does." So this was what it looked like to be his 'sole exception.' I kept my mouth shut, took two steps back, spun on my heel, and walked straight back into my own office.

Just before the end of the day, my own assistant popped in to remind me about a highstakes charity gala I had to attend with Tristan that evening.

The massive merger I had been tracking for six months hinged entirely on tonight.

Chapter 4 Taking a deep, shuddering breath to lock down my emotions, I slipped into my evening gown, touched up my makeup, and headed to Tristan's office.

Just as my knuckles grazed the wood, the door swung open. Sadie, draped in a designer gown, was clinging to Tristan's arm. They strolled out, laughing softly together.

I froze midstep. A sharp draft from the hallway vent sliced across my bare shoulders, raising goosebumps along my skin. Tristan stopped dead.

His gaze swept over me, as cold as a morgue slab. "Moving forward, my executive assistant will accompany me to these social functions.

We won't be needing your services anymore, Celine." They brushed right past me and headed straight for the private elevator. "Tristan," I called out to his back, my voice dangerously even. "I've been tracking that merger for six months." The elevator doors chimed open. "Starting today, it belongs to Sadie," his voice drifted back as the steel doors slid shut.

Tristan personally stepped in and signed the deal under Sadie's name. Before the ink was even dry, a massive commission payout form for her landed right on my desk.

I didn't even glance at the numbers. Right in front of my assistant, I shoved the form straight into the paper shredder.

Even without the payout, Sadie became the corporate darling overnight. Her name even reached the ears of our top partners. That afternoon, my phone rang.

It was Franklin, one of our biggest real estate partners. "Celine, what's keeping you so busy lately?

It's been ages since we hit the golf course." I let out a light laugh. "Franklin, you're the billionaire here.

How did you find the time to call me?" Franklin paused, carefully weighing his words for a long moment. "Tristan just bought that multimillion dollar mansion in the core of the ultrawealthy district from my firm.

The name registered on the property deed… is Sadie. They've likely already moved in." The coffee cup in my hand jerked.

Dark liquid splashed violently over the rim, soaking into the mahogany desk.

Counting from that first night at the club, Tristan hadn't stepped foot in our house for twentynine consecutive days. I had my master plan locked into place.

I went from staring at the ceiling until dawn to blacking out the second my head hit the pillow. I was carrying the weight of two massive family empires on my shoulders.

Pathetic romantic drama was never going to dictate my life. Logan and his trustfund crew had called me a dozen times, itching to go to war for me.

I shut them down every single time. I had the board on a string, and I didn't feel an ounce of pity for myself. Those kids just didn't get it.

When two apex predators clash, the fallout is devastating. The trap was set; I just had to let the clock run out. Soon enough, it was time for Rosemary's grand birthday gala.

I pulled a massive amount of personal strings and paid an astronomical price at a Sotheby's auction to secure a midcentury antique painting she had been hunting for years.

I had it immaculately wrapped, signing the card precisely: From Tristan and Celine.

No matter how rotten the core of our marriage was, the flawless façade of oldmoney etiquette had to be maintained. Sitting in my office, my finger hovered over the screen.

Finally, I tapped the dial button, making my first call to Tristan in a month.

It rang so long I was seconds away from hanging up, until it finally connected. "Tristan, I have Rosemary's birthday gift secured.

Where are we meeting before heading to the estate?" A sickeningly sweet, yet blatantly arrogant voice purred through the speaker. "Celine, you can head over by yourself.

Tristan told me he's bringing me home to meet the family elders tonight." I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. Not a misdial.

It was definitely Tristan's number. "Put Tristan on the line." Sadie giggled, a grating, highpitched sound. "Sorry about that, Celine. We just woke up.

Tristan is busy making me lunch." I ended the call. A second later, a text pinged on my screen from Logan. [Logan: Plan A.] I stared at the two words for a long, quiet moment.

Then, I buzzed my assistant to book my glam squad. I was still going to that gala. Alone. Chapter 5 At exactly six o'clock, I stepped into the grand foyer of the family estate.

The elders were already gathered, immediately firing off questions about why I had arrived alone.

I gave them a practiced, evasive smile, but when I turned and met Rosemary's gaze, a sharp sting pricked the back of my eyes. Rosemary had watched me grow up.

She watched me marry into her empire and ruthlessly carve out my own territory within the board. I had taken hits before, but I had never, ever shown weakness.

I knew she saw right through me, having dominated the corporate battlefield for decades herself. Her silence was her way of preserving my dignity.

I handed over the gift—a midcentury antique painting I had secured at a Sotheby's auction through heavy personal connections and an astronomical bid, knowing she had been hunting for it for years.

She lowered her eyes to the custom card where Tristan’s and my names were elegantly embossed sidebyside, and let out a heavy sigh.

Just then, a commotion erupted near the towering double doors. I snapped my head around.

Tristan was walking in, his fingers interlaced with Sadie's, shielding her body like she was royalty as they stepped into the foyer.

The faces of the surrounding billionaires morphed into various shades of shock and disgust. Rosemary's face turned to ice.

The two of them parted the crowd and stopped dead in front of the matriarch. "Grandma, this is Sadie. I brought her to celebrate your birthday," Tristan announced.

Rosemary didn't even spare Sadie a fraction of her peripheral vision.

Her voice was colder than absolute zero. "Jenkins, show the uninvited guest out." Jenkins, the head butler, glided over instantly.

With polite but chilling detachment, he gestured toward the door. "Miss, please leave." Tears pooled in Sadie's eyes.

She looked up at Tristan, her lips trembling. "Tristan, I'm sorry. I tried, but I really just… I can't reach your world." "Just live a good life with Celine.

Forget about me." With that perfectly timed line, she spun around and bolted toward the exit, shoulders shaking. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

This pathetic little victim act was getting Oscarworthy. Tristan lunged forward.

He snatched Sadie's wrist, pulling her back with rapid, desperate whispers. "Security, throw this woman out!" Rosemary roared. For a split second, the massive hall fell dead silent.

Without hesitation, Rosemary hurled the contents of her crystal glass, splashing dark red wine directly into Tristan's face.

She pointed a furious finger right at his nose. "You absolute fool! You're dragging this family's name through the mud!" Tristan didn't even flinch.

He just stood there, letting the expensive vintage drip off his jaw and soak into his custom suit. Rosemary's fury was absolute; not a single person in the room dared to breathe.

But of course, someone just had to be utterly clueless. Refusing to accept defeat, Sadie wrenched her arm free from Jenkins's grip.

She threw herself in front of Tristan, shielding him like a martyr, and shrieked at Rosemary. "What gives you the right to treat him like this?!

He is suffocating in this loveless, transactional marriage of yours! What is so wrong about us chasing true love?!" "He is your own flesh and blood!

This entire empire is going to be his anyway! What could possibly be more important than him?!" Rosemary let out a dark, mocking scoff.

She flicked her wrist, and two hulking security guards immediately lunged forward, grabbing Sadie by the arms to drag her out. Panic finally shattered Tristan's composure.

He ripped Sadie out of the guards' grip, wrapping his arms fiercely around her waist, and blurted out, "Grandma!

Sadie is pregnant!" Every single pair of probing, calculating eyes in the grand hall locked onto my face.

Tristan exhaled loudly, like a massive weight had just dropped off his chest. He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "Celine, I want a divorce.

I have to take responsibility for Sadie. I owe her this." My father, Marshall, let out a cold, venomous snort. My fatherinlaw, Howard, didn't hesitate.

He stormed across the marble floor, raising his fist to lay Tristan out. "Howard, don't!" I commanded, my voice slicing through the chaos.

I stepped forward slowly, closing in on Tristan until there were only inches between us. I locked my eyes dead onto his and spoke, enunciating every single syllable. "Tristan.

Say that. One more time." "I said, I want a divorce." I gave a slow, deliberate nod. Then, before anyone in the room could even blink, I pulled my arm back. Smack!

Chapter 6 "Tristan, listen to me very carefully.

The second we sign those divorce papers, every single joint venture and shared asset between the two family empires will be severed." I turned to look at my father.

Marshall let out a cold, cynical laugh and heavily patted my shoulder. "Brilliant move, sweetheart.

First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have the legal team sever the family's entire capital pipeline." I flashed a dark smile. "So, Tristan, are you absolutely sure you want this divorce?" Panic hijacked Tristan's features.

The smug certainty in his eyes shattered in a fraction of a second. He snapped his head toward my father. "Dad, you can't sever the ties!

If we decouple, both our empires will hemorrhage catastrophic losses!" "I built my empire for one reason only: to give my daughter the world," Marshall barked. "If my little girl isn't happy, then to hell with the profit margins!" I fixed my gaze back on Tristan, my voice deadpan. "I'll ask you one last time.

Are you sure you want a divorce?" Tristan's eyes darted frantically between Howard, my father, and finally rested on me. His jaw clamped shut, paralyzed by the sudden checkmate.

Marshall let out a disgusted scoff and wrapped his arm firmly around my shoulders. "Howard, I'm taking my daughter home." Without waiting for a response, my father forcefully steered me toward the exit.

Howard shouted after us in sheer panic, his heavy footsteps echoing across the marble, but my father didn't even bother to glance back.

Just as we reached the towering double doors, Rosemary's commanding voice echoed from the far end of the hall. "Marshall, wait. My grandson has disgraced this family.

I will give Celine the justice she is owed." "The family's trust fund will never recognize the bastard growing inside that woman's stomach, and he won't see a single red cent of our wealth.

I am immediately transferring my five percent stake—the shares holding the highest voting power—entirely to Celine.

Whether she chooses to stay in this marriage or crush Tristan in a divorce, she will remain the absolute, undisputed ruler of the board." Sadie collapsed onto the hard marble floor with a heavy thud, all the blood draining from her face.

Tristan didn't even reach out a hand to catch her.

The moment I followed my father out of the estate and sank into the plush leather of the Maybach's backseat, he pulled me into a fierce hug.

His eyes were rimmed red with overwhelming heartache. I wrapped my arms tightly around him. Ever since my mother passed away, his hair had turned completely white overnight.

But no matter what vicious storms were brewing ahead, I would be right there holding the line with him. "Don't worry about me, Dad," I murmured against his shoulder. "This pathetic little drama is about to hit its finale