The Heiress's Vengeance Reclaiming My Stolen Life

I was the Vance family’s stand-in for ten years, a near lookalike of their long-lost Chloe. I won the only business school exchange spot at the cost of a gastric hemorrhage, yet they forced me to give it to Chloe. She crushed my foot with her stiletto under the table, and they tried to buy my future for fifty thousand dollars. My fiancé watched, besotted with her. I said yes, my hopes broken. I will leave the Vances and reclaim what is mine. Nina's POV Dinner was served, and the long dining table in the Vance family's mansion was covered with an extravagant spread. I sat quietly at the far end of the table, not saying a word. "Chloe, sweetheart, eat more! You suffered so much out there all these years. This honey-glazed BBQ rib is your favorite flavor. I specifically had the kitchen make it just the way you loved it when you were little! I know you'll love it." Evelyn Vance’s eyes reddened as she smiled warmly, placing a large, glistening rib straight onto Chloe's plate. Dressed in a ridiculously expensive designer dress, Chloe flashed an innocent, sweet smile. "Thank you, Mom. You're the best." Hearing Chloe call her "Mom" made Evelyn beam with pure joy. But when she turned her gaze toward me, that warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cold detachment. "Nina, your father has something to say to you." I set my silverware down, raised my head, and looked at the middle-aged man sitting at the head of the table. "Yes, Dad?" Arthur Vance cleared his throat, set down his wine glass, and deliberately avoided meeting my clear eyes. "Nina, I heard that the business school has an overseas exchange slot available next month. I want you to give it up to Chloe." "Chloe just came back," he continued matter-of-factly. "She needs to beef up her resume so she can hold her head high in high society. You've had the best education here with us since you were little. Your grades are great—it won't hurt you to wait another year." The air in the dining room froze. Did they have any idea how much blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into winning that single, coveted slot? I pulled all-nighters for three straight months. I lived on black coffee, ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, and fought tooth and nail to rank first in the entire department to secure the only spot available! This prestigious international exchange program wasn't just about advanced business knowledge—it was the ultimate gateway to building elite networking ties that would shape my entire future! And now, Arthur was casually ordering me to hand the fruits of my agony over to Chloe... We were both supposed to be his daughters. How could he ask for something so cruel? What did he take me for? A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my chest. I had lived in this house for ten years. Ever since they adopted me from the orphanage when I was ten, I knew I was nothing more than a stand-in. I looked about seventy percent like their lost daughter, Chloe Vance. That was why they named me Nina Vance—"Nina," a reminder of the longing they felt for the daughter they lost. I was nothing but an emotional crutch. For ten years, I pushed myself to be the best. Top grades, mastered every refined hobby, swallowed every grievance. I foolishly believed that if I were obedient and exceptional enough, the Vances would truly see me as family. Then, two weeks ago, their real biological daughter returned. The second Chloe crossed the threshold, I turned into an unwanted ghost. The entire household revolved around her. My private piano room was gutted and turned into her walk-in closet. And now, even the future I had bled for had to be served to her on a silver platter. "Nina, if you don't want to, it's really okay," Chloe murmured timidly. But beneath her submissive lashes, a venomous, triumphant gleam flickered. Under the drape of the long tablecloth, her sharp stiletto heel reached out and crushed down viciously onto the top of my foot. Agony shot up my leg. Yet my face remained completely still. I didn't even flinch. I stared at Arthur, then glanced at Evelyn, whose face practically screamed, *If you refuse, you're an ungrateful brat.* Finally, I parted my lips and whispered, "Okay." Arthur let out a long sigh of relief, his tone softening noticeably. "Good girl. I knew you were sensible! I'll wire seventy thousand dollars to your account tomorrow. Go buy yourself a few nice designer bags." Seventy grand to buy off my life and future. It was the kind of petty handout one tossed to a stray dog on the street. Utterly pathetic. After dinner, I returned alone to the guest room tucked away at the very end of the hallway. It was dim and cramped—a room originally intended for the live-in maids. I used to live in the sunny master suite upstairs. But the day Chloe returned, I voluntarily moved down here. Closing the door shut out the laughter and chatter of the Vance family downstairs. The silence in the room was deafening. I flicked on a small, amber desk lamp, walked over, and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside lay an unmarked manila envelope. I pulled the documents out carefully. It was a DNA paternity test report, accompanied by a thick stack of private investigation dossiers. Two weeks ago—on the third day after Chloe was brought back—this package had been delivered to me anonymously. On the final page of the report, bold black letters declared: *Biological Paternity Confirmed.* The name listed beside it was the matriarch of New York's ultimate, untouchable elite dynasty, the Hayes family: Violet Hayes. My name wasn't Nina Vance. I wasn't an orphan kept as a substitute pet. My real identity was the sole legitimate heiress of the Hayes empire, abducted fifteen years ago from a luxury mall. Looking down at the papers, my eyes were chillingly calm. For two weeks, I had done nothing with this truth. Deep down, I still held on to a pathetic, final shred of hope for the Vance family, for my fiancé Brandon Hayes, and for the adoptive brother who had once protected me, Julian Vance. I had been addicted to the warmth of those ten years, even if it was borrowed. I thought a decade of companionship, even without blood ties, had to mean something. I had even thought that if the Vances still treated me as their own, I would never go back to the Hayes family. I would stay Nina Vance forever. Tonight's dinner had crushed that delusion into dust. Rain began to pour outside, heavy droplets slamming against the windowpane with sharp, rattling clatter. I slid the DNA report back into the drawer and locked it. My gaze drifted to a framed photo sitting on the corner of my desk. It was from the night Brandon and I got engaged. The man in the frame looked aloof and noble, yet whenever he looked at me, there had always been an elusive hint of tenderness. Brandon was an extended relative of the Hayes family. Only because I had been stolen did his branch of the family manage to worm their way into the core business. He had always strutted around calling himself the sole heir to the Hayes empire. Tomorrow night was the annual Hayes grand gala. As a Hayes man and my fiancé, he was supposed to pick me up. "Brandon Hayes..." I murmured the name softly, closing my eyes. This was my very last gamble. If even he...Nina's POV In the darkness, my fingers slowly clenched into a tight fist. If these ten years of devotion were nothing but a joke, I wasn't going to stick around to play my part. The next evening, a sleek black Maybach pulled up smoothly in front of the Vance estate. Dressed in an understated black velvet evening gown, I said nothing, pulled open the passenger door, and slid inside. Behind the wheel, Brandon Hayes rested his hands casually on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, his profile looking as sharply chiseled and unyielding as marble. Seeing me get in, he merely gave a curt nod. He didn't lean over to adjust my seatbelt like he used to. He didn't even utter a simple greeting. The silence in the luxury cabin was suffocating. My nose caught an unfamiliar scent. Brandon had changed his cologne. He had always worn a crisp cedarwood scent—cool, distant, and aloof, much like his personality. But today, beneath that chilly cedar lingered a sickeningly sweet, candy-like undertone. It was Chloe's signature perfume. I remembered her saying that sweet scents gave her a sense of security. Glancing down, I noticed a tiny crease on his tailored suit cuff. Lowering my lashes, I asked nothing, simply turning my gaze toward the glittering city lights flashing past the window. "I heard from Arthur about the Ivy League exchange program," Brandon said abruptly, keeping his eyes on the road. His voice was low and detached. "It's good that you agreed to step aside. Chloe just got back and feels insecure. Be a little more accommodating with her." My stomach dropped like a lead weight. I turned my head to look at the man I had been engaged to for three years, my voice eerily steady. "You think I'm the one who should step aside for her?" "The Vance family owes her," Brandon frowned slightly, clearly displeased by my pushback. "You enjoyed ten years of luxury that belonged to her in the first place. Don't be greedy." *Greedy?* A dry laugh nearly escaped my throat. What had I ever been greedy about? "Understood," I murmured, pulling my gaze back and falling into utter silence. When we arrived at the Hayes ancestral estate, the gala was already in full swing. The Hayes family was the undisputed apex predator of New York high society; wealthy as the Vances were, next to the Hayes empire, they were practically middle-class. A few elderly Hayes relatives spotted Brandon and me walking in side by side and teased warmly, "Brandon, you two have been engaged for three years now, and Nina is graduating soon. Isn't it time to set an official wedding date?" In the past, Brandon would have politely offered an elegant deflection like, *We're actively discussing the timeline.* Tonight, however, Brandon said nothing. Holding his champagne flute, his lips pressed into a hard, cold line, letting the air freeze around us. In an instant, the whispers and gazes shifting my way changed—filled with pity, mockery, and schadenfreude. Everyone knew the real Vance heiress had returned. My status as a fake was officially revoked. Why would the future head of the Hayes family marry an orphan of unknown origin? Just as the humiliation became unbearable, a sweet, flirtatious voice rang out: "Brandon!" Chloe, wearing an eye-catching white haute couture ballgown, glided through the crowd like a haughty swan, heading straight for Brandon. Moving with intentional haste, she "tripped" on her hem and pitched straight toward him. Brandon reacted instantly, reaching out to catch her waist. The red wine in Chloe’s glass tilted perfectly, spilling crimson liquid right over Brandon’s pristine white French cuff. "Oh no! I'm so, so sorry, Brandon! I didn't mean to!" Chloe gasped, tears brimming in her doe eyes as she flusteredly grabbed a napkin to dab at his wrist. "It's fine. Don't panic." Standing less than two feet away, I watched with absolute clarity. Brandon, a notorious germaphobe who would normally throw away any garment someone else brushed against, didn't shove Chloe away. Instead, he gently captured her trembling hand in his own. The gesture was impossibly tender, his eyes holding a brand of softness and concern he didn't even realize he was showing. "Did you hurt your hand?" "No..." Chloe flushed, biting her lower lip. She darted a furtive glance toward me, her eyes overflowing with smug, victorious gloating. I stood frozen in place, watching the pair of them. Suddenly, the past three years of my devotion felt like a monumental, hilarious farce. Later in the evening, I slipped away to the powder room. Coming out into the marble corridor, I ran straight into Brandon's mother. Victoria Hayes looked impeccably elegant in her emerald gown. Her gaze swept over me with unabashed disdain. "Nina, now that the real Vance daughter is back, you ought to know your place. My son will never marry an adopted nobody with zero inheritance rights. You're a smart girl. Bow out gracefully. It's better for everyone." Staring straight into Victoria's haughty, venomous eyes, I didn't show a speck of fear. I offered a razor-thin smile, my voice crystalline and unwavering. "Mrs. Hayes, don't worry. I'll find a time to discuss breaking off the engagement with Brandon. I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing your family." Victoria let out a cold huff and strutted away. Late into the night, the party ended. I turned down Brandon’s hollow offer to drive me home and stepped out of the Hayes estate alone into the dark. The bitter autumn wind tore through my thin velvet dress, but my head had never felt so clear. Right then, my phone lit up. It was a text from an unsaved number, containing only three words: *Leave them.* I looked down at the screen for a long time. I locked the phone without replying. But the gentle, submissive light that once defined my eyes had completely frozen over into unbreakable ice. Yes. It was time to leave.Nina's POV The next morning, I showed up at the Vance Group headquarters as usual. Back during my junior year, I had earned my internship in the marketing department through the official, rigorous screening process by submitting a stellar market research proposal. It wasn't a Vance handout; it was my own merit. And my direct superior happened to be my adoptive brother, the current executive vice president of the Vance Group: Julian Vance. Holding the final Q4 marketing plan that I had spent three days polishing, I knocked on his office door. "Julian, here is the finalized Q4 campaign. I remodeled the predictive analytics based on your previous notes." I extended the thick leather-bound folder. Behind the sprawling mahogany desk, Julian sat in a sharply tailored dark suit, his wire-rimmed glasses giving his handsome features a ruthless, icy edge. He didn't even glance down at the proposal, making no move to take it. My hands hovered in mid-air. "Nina," Julian leaned back in his leather chair, his voice dripping with frost. "Why do you constantly have to pick on Chloe?" My breath hitched. Slowly, I pulled my hands back and set the folder onto his desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about." "You don't?" Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh. He spun an iPad around and slammed it down in front of me. "Chloe called me this morning in hysterics. She said you hid the only baby photos she had left from the orphanage—the only memories left of her foster parents! Nina, isn't it enough that you stole her life for ten years? Did you really have to rob her of her only memories? When did you become so vicious?" I glanced at the screen, which showed Chloe’s tear-stained selfie and a stream of manipulative, weeping texts. It felt like a sledgehammer slamming into my ribs. "The photos are on the top shelf of the living room media wall, tucked behind some art books. She said she couldn't find them yesterday, so before going to bed last night, I took them out and put them right on the coffee table," I said, forcing my voice to remain completely flat. "Julian, does that look like hiding them to you?" Julian blinked, momentarily thrown off by the plain facts. But his embarrassment quickly morphed into irritation, his face darkening even further. "Even so, couldn't your attitude toward her be a little kinder? She suffered all her life outside while you lived in luxury. She’s fragile! Would it kill you to yield a little?" "Yield?" I finally raised my head, locking eyes with him. "Julian, how much more do you want me to yield? I gave up my bedroom. I gave up my Ivy League exchange slot. I play the obedient mute every single day in front of your parents! What else do you want me to surrender?" "You've lived in this house for ten years, enjoying the finest things money can buy! You have everything, and Chloe had nothing!" Stung by the defiance in my eyes, Julian slammed his hands on the desk and surged to his feet, shouting. "You think I have everything?" I suddenly laughed—a raw, desolate sound dripping with bitter amusement. I stared at the man who had once shielded me from bullies and thrown punches for my sake, the final spark of affection in my chest dying out. "Do I have real parents? Do I have a real family? When you're happy, I'm Nina Vance; when you're not, I'm a disposable stray you can kick to the curb!" "Shut up!" Cornered by the brutal truth, Julian jerked his head away, spitting out venom to mask his guilt: "You're an outsider to begin with! The Vance family raised you for a decade, and instead of showing gratitude, you harbor toxic jealousy toward Chloe. You're shameless!" *An outsider.* The words stabbed straight through my heart like a serrated dagger, shredding the last ounce of sentiment I held for the Vance family. Ten years of devotion. Ten years of obedience. Ten years of striving for perfection. In the end, I was just an *outsider.* "Understood." My smile vanished, replaced by an expressionless mask. My voice was utterly dead, drained of all emotion. "This marketing plan is the final deliverable I will ever submit as an intern. If you don't need it, feel free to toss it into the shredder." With that, I turned around and walked out, my spine rigid and unbending. "Nina! Get back here right now!" Julian roared behind me. I didn't stop. I walked straight out of the executive suite. Stepping into the elevator, I pressed the button for the top floor. The mirrored doors slid shut, sealing away the noise of the outside world. I pulled out my phone, took a slow, deep breath, and scrolled until my thumb rested on an unsaved New York phone number. It was the contact that had come attached to the DNA report two weeks ago. I had never dialed it. I used to believe I would never need to. Now, without a second's hesitation, I tapped the call button. It didn't even ring twice before the line clicked open. A voice came through—aged, immensely powerful, yet trembling violently: "Hello?" I closed my eyes. A solitary tear that I had fought so hard to suppress rolled down my cheek, but my voice was completely steady: "Grandmother, it's me. I'm coming home." On the other end of the line, the sound of something crashing to the floor echoed, followed by the raw, choked-up sobs of the matriarch: "Good... good! I'm sending cars for you right now! My granddaughter... you're finally willing to come home!" I hung up, looking at my reflection in the elevator glass. A razor-cold smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. From this moment on, the docile, mistreated Nina Vance was dead. There was only the true heiress of the Hayes empire: Nina Hayes.Nina's POV By the time I pushed open the front doors of the Vance estate, it was already dusk. The moment I stepped onto the second-floor landing, I knew something was wrong. The door to my secluded guest room stood slightly ajar, accompanied by the rustling sounds of someone tearing through things. I shoved the door open. The sight inside made my fists clench instantly. The once-neat room looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. Closet doors hung open, clothes were strewn across the carpet, and my books were scattered everywhere. Even the small locked drawer on my desk had been pried open with a screwdriver. Chloe was sitting on my unmade bed, casually twirling an old silver pendant necklace between her manicured fingers. The pendant was shaped like a small lily. It was the only possession I had on me when I was abandoned at the orphanage—the sole keepsake left by my biological mother! "What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, taking predatory strides forward. Chloe flinched, but quickly recovered her composure. She tilted her chin up, her face twisting into a nauseating sneer. "What does it look like? I'm looking for my missing diamond bracelet. Who knows if a broke orphan like you stole my jewelry?" She dangled the silver necklace mockingly. "Nina, everything you own was paid for by the Vances. Did you really think you had private property? Trash like you makes me sick." "Give it back," I commanded, my voice dropping to a dangerous chill as I closed the distance. "Make me!" Chloe scrambled up, lifting the necklace high out of my reach. "Beg me! Get down on your knees and beg, and maybe I'll—" Before she could finish, my arm shot out like lightning. I gripped the other end of the chain and yanked violently. *Snap!* The fragile silver clasp sheared under the force, and the pendant tumbled onto the rug with a muffled thud. The whiplash of the chain sliced a thin red line across Chloe’s wrist. She immediately shrieked at the top of her lungs, "Ah! You dared to hit me?!" Downstairs, Evelyn heard the scream and rushed up the stairs. The moment she caught sight of the red welt on Chloe’s wrist, her eyes flared with fury. She lunged forward and shoved me hard. "Nina! Have you lost your mind?! What are you trying to do to Chloe!" Evelyn screamed. The shove knocked me back two steps, my spine crashing hard against the heavy edge of the wooden wardrobe. A dull thud of pain radiated across my back. But my face didn't register an ounce of hurt; I simply bent down, picked up the broken necklace, and squeezed it tightly in my fist. "She ransacked my room first," I stated flatly. "So what if she did!" Evelyn pointed a trembling finger right in my face. "Every single square inch of this house belongs to the Vances! You're living under my roof—what's wrong with Chloe looking through your things? If you can't tolerate Chloe, get the hell out of this house!" I stared at Evelyn’s contorted, furious expression, and the absolute last ember of warmth in my heart died out. "Oh, and another thing," Evelyn added with spiteful venom. "I discussed it with your father—we aren't paying for your advanced piano certification exam next month. That money is going toward Chloe's private equestrian lessons. She needs to break into the elite social circles, and horse riding is a must. As for you, you won't need that kind of vanity anyway. Stop wasting Vance money." First my career prospects, then my dignity, and now my last remaining passion and hard-earned art—they wanted to crush it all. I lowered my eyes, masking the lethal frost beneath. "Understood." Without sparing Evelyn or Chloe another glance, I walked downstairs. Down in the foyer, Brandon had arrived at some point. He was lounging on the designer Italian leather couch, long legs elegantly crossed. Chloe ran down the stairs like a weeping damsel in distress, throwing herself down beside him and holding up her scratched wrist with pitiful whimpers. Brandon frowned, a flash of protective sympathy in his eyes. He picked up an ornate silver fruit fork from the crystal platter on the table, speared a piece of dragon fruit, and gently fed it to Chloe's waiting lips. Chloe smiled sweetly, biting down on the fruit, and cast a blatant, triumphant smirk toward the shadow of the staircase. Standing in the dim hallway, I watched the tableau. That silver fork was something I had hand-carved and polished in an artisan metalsmith shop back during my sophomore year, paying for the materials with my own part-time earnings, and gifted to Brandon for his birthday. He had claimed he hated sweets, but said that if I gave it to him, he would gladly eat anything. Now, he was using the fork I spent nights hand-crafting to feed another woman. I didn't take another step forward. I turned around silently and walked back into the ransacked bedroom. 3:00 AM. The Vance estate had settled into absolute silence, everyone lost in deep, comfortable slumber. No one knew, and no one cared, whether the girl at the end of the hall was asleep or awake. I dragged out a single black carry-on suitcase. Inside were only a few sets of clothes I had bought with my own internship paychecks, along with the broken silver lily necklace. The luxury clothes, couture dresses, and expensive jewelry bought with Vance money remained untouched. I changed into a sharp trench coat and pulled my long hair into a high, clean ponytail. Taking one final look at the room I had occupied for ten years, I turned the framed engagement photo of Brandon and me face down on the desk, burying it alongside ten years of Vance "charity." *Click.* The front door shut with a quiet latch. Carrying my luggage, I stepped out into the thick, dark night. A pre-booked yellow cab was waiting by the curb. The driver helped me load the suitcase into the trunk and asked, "Where to, miss?" I slid into the backseat, watching the silhouette of the Vance mansion shrink into the rearview mirror. My voice was crystalline and firm, echoing clearly in the quiet car: "The Hayes ancestral estate."Nina's POV At 4:00 AM, the city was still cloaked in pitch black, carrying the sharp, biting frost of the impending dawn. The cab pulled up before a sprawling historic estate that commanded half an entire private hillside. The towering wrought-iron gates were shut tight. This was the pinnacle of New York’s power and wealth: the Hayes ancestral manor. The cab driver glanced at the meter, then stared at the colossal estate that ordinary people wouldn't dare approach, swallowing hard. "Uh... miss, this is as far as I can go." I handed him the fare, stepped out, and took my suitcase. The moment my heels hit the stone pavement, the massive, imposing gates groaned with a heavy resonance, slowly swinging inward. Beyond the gates, the entire estate was illuminated as bright as noon. Dozens of bodyguards in pristine black suits stood in two razor-sharp columns, bowing in unison. And at the end of that grand pathway stood an elderly woman with silver hair, leaning on an ornate cane. Despite her age, her posture held supreme authority, though her eyes were raw red and her entire body trembled violently. "My granddaughter..." Violet Hayes whispered, her voice cracking. I let go of my suitcase handle and walked forward step by step. Seeing that face—so hauntingly similar to my own—and those eyes filled with fifteen years of agonizing grief and longing, the armor I had forced onto myself shattered completely. My knees hit the cold stone pavers. "Grandmother," I rasped, tears finally spilling over my lashes without warning. "My sweet child, get up, let me look at you..." Violet threw her cane aside and stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around me in a suffocating embrace, weeping openly. Fifteen years ago, when I was four, I got separated from my nanny at a shopping center and was abducted, eventually ending up in a remote orphanage. The Hayes family had torn the country apart searching for me, finding nothing. My father, the previous head of the Hayes empire, fell into severe depression from the guilt of losing his only daughter and passed away from illness within three years. My mother, unable to endure the dual grief of losing her husband and child, swallowed a fatal dose of sleeping pills on a stormy night, following him to the grave. The entire Hayes empire was left on the aging shoulders of Violet Hayes, who fought off the ruthless vultures among extended relatives while pouring countless fortunes into tracking down my whereabouts. Fifteen years. The sole legitimate heiress of the Hayes family had finally returned. "I failed you... I failed your parents..." Violet wept, cupping my thin face with trembling hands. "If our investigators hadn't uncovered that lead in the old orphanage archives two weeks ago and secretly obtained your hair for a match, how much longer would you have suffered out there?" I wrapped my arms tightly around her, soaking in the untainted, unconditional warmth of blood family that had come fifteen years late. In this single moment, I realized how sickeningly cheap the Vances' transactional "love" had been. By daybreak, Violet led me into the private sanctuary of the manor. From an antique wooden chest, she retrieved a ring set with a flawless, untreated pigeon-blood ruby. I knew what it was: the signet ring of the Hayes patriarch, passed down strictly to the chosen heir. "Nina," Violet said with profound solemnity, sliding the ring onto my slender index finger. "The hyenas in the family have been circling for years. Brandon's branch has been salivating over the throne. But as long as breath remains in my body, no outsider touches this empire. You are the only true heir of the Hayes family. From this day forward, you are no longer Nina Vance. You are Nina Hayes." The cool weight of the ruby rested against my skin, banishing the last trace of hesitation from my heart. Looking at the signet ring that commanded absolute authority, my eyes turned dangerously sharp. "Don't worry, Grandmother. What belongs to the Hayes family will stay ours. And what others owe me, I will collect back—with interest." The sun rose. Golden morning light pierced through the skyline, spilling onto the second-floor terrace of the Hayes manor. I changed into a bespoke silk robe prepared overnight by the staff, holding a cup of steaming black coffee as I leaned against the marble railing. The morning breeze caught my golden-streaked hair, revealing a face devoid of submission. On the round patio table nearby lay my old phone. The screen glowed, displaying twenty-three missed calls. I stared down at the familiar contact numbers, a razor-thin, mocking smirk curving my lips. I picked up the device and, without a second's hesitation, tapped rapidly across the screen. Deleted. Blocked. Not a single glance back.Brandon's POV 7:00 AM, the Vance mansion. Normally by this hour, Nina would have been busy in the open kitchen on the first floor. Because Evelyn suffered from mild gastritis, Nina had made it a point for ten years to wake up early and hand-cook an oatmeal congee, meticulously adjusting the temperature until it was perfectly palatable. Today, however, the kitchen was dead cold. "Where is Nina? What time does she think it is, not making breakfast? Does she really think she's a victim who needs the whole family begging her?" Evelyn descended the stairs in her silk robe, her face pinched with impatience. A maid rushed down from the upstairs hallway, clutching a dust rag, her face pale. "Ma'am! Bad news... Miss Nina's room is completely empty!" "What do you mean, empty?" Evelyn stopped dead. "I mean... Miss Nina's clothes, her luggage—everything is gone! Even her toothbrush is missing!" Evelyn shoved past the maid and hurried up to the guest room at the end of the hall, throwing the door open. The room remained in the state Chloe had left it the night before, closet doors wide open. But every single cheap outfit belonging to Nina was gone. The bed was stripped and bare, ice-cold to the touch. Most glaring of all was the desk—the framed engagement photo that Nina had treasured and wiped down daily lay facedown, discarded like garbage. Evelyn scoffed stubbornly, "So she thinks she can run away? She's a penniless orphan! Where could she possibly go? Leave her alone. Once she starves out on the streets, she'll crawl back begging for forgiveness!" The maid dialed my number to report what had just happened at the Vance house. At that moment, I was on the top floor of the Hayes Tower in the heart of the Manhattan financial district. When the maid relayed the news, I barely paid attention. Sitting in my high-backed executive chair, I was listening to my assistant's morning briefing. Suddenly, my personal phone buzzed on the blotter with a new notification. I glanced down, and my breath caught in my throat. The sender was Nina. *Brandon Hayes: The engagement is terminated, effective immediately. Formal documentation and the return of gifts will be handled by my legal counsel. Do not contact me again.* Brief. Clinical. No accusations, no tears, no dramatic tantrums. She had written it like an ordinary corporate cancellation notice. My pupils contracted, my heart seized as if gripped by an iron claw. I grabbed the phone and dialed back instantly, only to be met with the flat, mechanical automated operator: *The number you are calling has blocked you.* "Unbelievable!" I slammed the phone onto the heavy desk with a deafening crack. My assistant flinched violently, clamping his mouth shut in terror. I yanked at my tie, pacing to the floor-to-ceiling windows in a storm of irritation. In my eyes, Nina was throwing a childish tantrum. Just because I didn't announce our wedding date at the gala? Because I wiped wine off Chloe's hand? When had she become so petty? Did she really think playing hard-to-get would force my hand? Cheap tricks like this only made her look pathetic. Half an hour later, Julian Vance’s car and mine pulled into the Vance driveway at the same time. The three of us gathered in the living room under an oppressive, suffocating atmosphere. Chloe sat tucked in the corner of the sofa, wringing her sweater hem, wearing her trademark fragile expression. "Julian, did she block your number too? Has she lost her mind?!" Evelyn’s face was green with anger. I slumped into a single armchair, radiating a dangerous, volatile pressure. "She texted me to break off our engagement. Mrs. Vance, what did you people do to her last night?" "What could we possibly have done to her?! She made a mistake and couldn't stand Chloe!" Evelyn fired back defensively, though her eyes darted away. Julian rubbed his temples in frustration. "Now isn't the time for pointing fingers. We need to locate her first. I've already dispatched men to pull the surveillance footage from the transit stations and airports—" Right then, the eighty-four-inch television playing quietly in the corner suddenly cut its morning entertainment broadcast. A stark red breaking news banner flashed across the screen. *We interrupt this broadcast with breaking news. The apex titan of Wall Street and global commerce, the Hayes Group, issued an emergency bulletin earlier this morning. The sole legitimate heiress of the Hayes dynasty, missing for fifteen years, was officially recovered late last night! The Hayes family will hold an international press conference at Hayes Tower in thirty minutes to officially present their grand heiress to the public...* The news anchor’s voice was electric with shock. The living room froze as if struck by lightning. The Hayes heiress? That was the true royal bloodline of New York high society. Missing for fifteen years, and suddenly found?! The live broadcast cut to the plaza outside Hayes Tower, where hundreds of journalists from around the globe were swarming like locusts. For a split second, the broadcast camera caught a glimpse of a figure standing behind the glass of the second-floor VIP suite. It was a young woman in a sharply tailored black power suit. Even though it was merely a fleeting, blurred silhouette from the side, she radiated an aura of unshakeable nobility and cold command. *Smash.* The crystal tumbler in Julian’s hand slipped, shattering against the marble table, water splashing everywhere. My eyes glued onto that fleeting silhouette on the screen, every drop of color draining from my face until I was as pale as a corpse. Julian’s lips trembled uncontrollably, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. "Julian, what's wrong with you?" Evelyn shrieked, startled. "That silhouette..." Julian’s voice shook violently as he whipped his head toward me, his eyes wide with raw, unfathomable horror. "Brandon... that woman... doesn't she look... doesn't she look exactly like Nina?!" I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning bone-white as I gripped the armrest so hard the leather cracked.