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The Heir's Ruthless Obsession

The Heir's Ruthless Obsession

Author: Keira Anji
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Chapter 1 The Mark of the Martyr

Word Count: 1344    |    Released on: 13/12/2025

hing that shiny. Most visitors arrived either in rusted-out trucks or rattling taxis, looking for a way out

om window, biting the inside of

ens aren't going t

harp and bitter. She shoved a basket of wet sheets into my chest. The weight was sudden and heavy, the cold water soaking into my apron immediately

y hood further over my brow until the world was

ked up from the older girls. She was the kind of person you don't want

eached out. Her fingers caught

to scream against the dull backdrop of the laundry. It was a deep, bruised red, the color of a fresh w

ggers my nerves," I lied. My voice

that looked like hunger. "She thinks that hair makes you a miracle. I think it makes you a target. You look like one

e floor like a heap of dead skin. I couldn't fight back. I know better than to create a scene. I just st

oak doors at the end of the hall groaned on their hinges.

s back into the dark wool of my hood. My skin felt

sual, her hands vibrating with a slight tremor. She was followed b

idn't belong in a room that smelled of bleach and poverty. Her

ked like she was choking on the name. "This is

w, the skin pruned and white from the wat

me Beaumont

ty I usually got from the rich ladies who visited on Sundays. She looked at me the way a person looks at a winning lottery ticket they'd found in the t

er than usual. As I took the instrument out, several thoughts flooded my head. I wondered why she wanted me to play, I wondered

they didn't

elody that always sat at the base of my skull, something

d, a ragged sound that broke the silence. She t

It's Elena's silhouette. If I can see it, Viktor V

ded. Her fingers worked her rosary beads

ugh. "The Volkovs have eyes in every gutter. Sh

envelope into my damp hand. The gold wax seal fel

n't an offer. "Everything, the clothes, the story, the p

red. "I don't think I have that talent

e who think you're dead are currently throwing a party. I'm going to ruin it. But listen to me: the Volkovs will be watching. Especially the

ind her. The sound of her heels faded, leav

d dropping into her hands. She started to cr

ed her I'd keep you hidden. I pro

p and white-hot pain spiked behind my eyes. For a split second

y shoulders, her grip bruising. "She told me to never let the w

oked at the envelope. It felt like a heavy wei

front of the cracked mirror in the washroom and pulled the hood back. I stared at the red

e past that should remain dead. And for the first time i

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The Heir's Ruthless Obsession
The Heir's Ruthless Obsession
“Isabelle Duval spent her life at Saint Brigitte learning to be invisible. To her, her vibrant red hair wasn't a gift, it was a target she hid to survive the coal dust and the relentless, physical cruelty of Claire. Claire's bullying was a violent daily reminder that orphans like Isabelle weren't meant to have dreams. Isabelle's only voice lived in her violin, a way to scream without making a sound. When Director Rousseau offers her a scholarship to the elite St. Aurelia Academy, Isabelle sees a way out. She expects the charcoal uniforms and marble halls to be a shield against girls like Claire. But the relief is a trap. She hasn't escaped the pressure, she has simply traded physical bruises for social ones. At St. Aurelia, Isabelle is a "ghost" in a den of wolves who value bloodlines over talent. Her arrival sparks a silent war, drawing the gaze of Dmitri Volkov. Known to the school as the "Demon Prince," he looks at Isabelle with a bone-deep recognition that suggests he knows a secret about her family she hasn't even uncovered. He has no intention of letting her walk away. Torn, Isabelle is pulled toward Julien Rousseau, the Director's son. He is everything the orphanage wasn't: warm, protective and kind. He offers the safety she has craved since childhood but his "protection" masks a darker truth. His family is tied to the very conspiracy that left Isabelle on a doorstep fifteen years ago. Isabelle is caught in a dangerous triangle. One boy wants to keep her in the dark to save her; the other wants to drag her into the light to use her. In a world where whispers are weapons, Isabelle must realize she isn't a charity case. She is the living ghost of a crime the elite are desperate to forget. She is no longer playing for her life. She's playing to find out who actually is before the people who 'saved' her decide she's no longer worth the trouble.”