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The Heir's Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 2 The Gilded Cage

Word Count: 1794    |    Released on: 14/12/2025

ty laundry room, the name feeli

eek, I was a possessed girl in the halls of Saint Brigitte. I played until my fingers ached and w

'm going for a battle. "You are pushing yourself, Isabelle'" Sister Marriane said,

r some rest too but I couldn't. Sister Marriane isn't helping much either. Her staring and lurking around, acting more strange than I am has been bother

time to give me a 'Big Sister's pep talk. Unlike every other day, I would have stayed there and allowed h

looked tired. Her eyes were sharp and hollow screaming exhau

s," she said but her voice lacked its usual bite. It was flat. Bitter

aire. Let m

e reached out yanking the hood of my cloak so hard it scraped my scalp. "You are foundling, Isabelle. You are the mistake nobody wanted and had to dro

l smell lye and cheap soap on you bef

tried to speak. Ouch Claire, you really had to hit the nail on the hea

hing but a gutter rat?" She continued sounding frustrate

r a worried look. Like she had crossed a l

oulder. "Yeah, I mean that should be enough to bring her confidence down for a while, you don't have

nings!" She screamed. "You can leave if you want. I'll finish what I

ooking red hair and stupid violin and when they are done laughing, you'll be right back here with

at state. She can drive a knife down my throat if

lly said. "I'll be back h

her door because that one see

. I tried taking deep breaths but it wasn't wo

e mistake n

t. It smelled of expensive floor wax and cold rain. It felt like

ri's

much champagne. I stood by a pillar, my tuxedo collar itching ag

ien said, leaning next to me. He looked per

ing my tie to stop the itching on my neck. "He expects a report

ng to face The Beaumonts. He sent me instead as his eyes and ears. "Watch the shareholders, Dmitri. Don't embarrass me, Dmitri. Make sure

, at least watch the Charity case perf

ty talent" the Beaumonts had sco

hat beige, dull room. It was the way she stood. She looked like she wa

m my father's desk. The photo was so old that the edges were curling. A w

nds tightening on the glass u

irl my mother brought from the Orphanage. S

Not just from my father's desk but fro

ed hair. Don't make it a co

She played like someone who was bleeding out through music. It wasn't "

elle

d so the people wouldn't mock me just like Claire said. When I finished, the stares and silence I got

ith a weird kind of pride that made me feel like a prize-w

e said. "What a wonderful pe

ing to hide my cheeks which were starting to

e said, extending his hand out for a shake.

apers is standing in front of me. This feels too good to be true. I took

an orphanage, child," Director Alexandre

know, sir, " I said,

ted whispering in that urgent and frantic way adults do when they think chi

rying to disappear. But t

edged, and wearing a tuxedo like it was a suit of armor. But it was his eyes that got me. Tho

his voice was a lo

how small my

smell of rain and expensive cologne. He looked

brushed my ear. "You are standing in a bright light and you don't know

napped, my fear finally turning into a sharp,

o the orphanage, to the shadows you crawled out from. Because if you remain

d find a comeback. I stood there, my hands shaking

d at me like I was a ticking bomb. And for the first time, I realize

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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.”