Humiliated Heiress: A Quest For Justice

almost fifty years of business. It' s what built Allison-Mercado. Destroying it... it would be an act of utter stupidity. It impacts bil

ered little princess, are so special?" Her gaze burned into me, filled with a deep-seated resentment that seemed to transcend the immediate situation. "Some legacies are built on the

ed to her phone, her voice shrill with excitement. "Kaitlyn Daniels is about to give this li

my captor's grip, a desperate, animalistic cry tearing from my throat. It was th

aged, parchment-like pages. The sound was like a scream in my ears, each rip a fresh wound on my soul. My father's e

ng above the scene, witnessing the desecration. All I could do was pray, a silent, desperate plea, that somehow, m

ap photo," Janna cackled, enjoying my agony. She turned to

l hope vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow despair. T

you. You will regret this for the rest of your miserable lives." The wo

art, so innocent. But I see right through you, Ava Mercado. You're just another grasping social climber, leeching off others' succes

day. My mother, beautiful and radiant, still looked so happy, so full of life, before the illness took her. My father, with his kind eyes and bril

locked onto the frame. No

she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Your poor, deceased parents? Still trying to play on pity, Ava?" She looked at the picture,

ss shattered with a sharp crack, the impact sending a fresh wave of agony through me.

everything I held sacred. Everything they were trying to erase. With a guttural scream, I lunged, a desperate, frantic surge of pure adrenaline. My hands, surp

fueled by a murderous intent I hadn't known I possessed. The adrenaline surged, overriding the pain in my stomach

ted ferocity, quickly recovered. Janna grabbed my arms, prying my fingers away. The muscular woman landed a brutal kick to my ri

t, her voice hoarse. "She tried to choke me! Did you g

zoomed in on my face, a triumphant, malicious grin spread across hers.

ealed your fate. You want to pretend you're a victim? Fine. Let's give you something to really cry about." She gestured

most precious keepsakes: a faded love letter, a pressed flower, and a tiny, silver locket containing a lock of my father's hair. I had ca

t!" My body trembled, every muscle tensing. My eyes darted around, desperately

ng the small wooden box. It looked so fragile in her hands, so

thin. "Looks like a little treasure chest. What secrets are you hiding, Ava?" She held it up to the c