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The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 551    |    Released on: 02/02/2026

out of the elev

ington out of Flavia's apartment door. She was kick

n she saw him. "Help me! That

as wearing his shirt. H

panting. "Ms. Lancaster reported an intru

ce darkened

. "I just came to bring you your

ack. He looked at he

't invi

here. Revoke her access. If she steps

r into the service elevator. The d

ed into the

" he cal

le

checked the guest room. Empty. He checked t

Flavia kept there were gone. Her trench co

nd sharp, pie

le

sitting alone in the center, was not a ther

e. The handwriting w

'Emergency Security Services' and 'Premises

ature. No "Love,

usiness tr

. The professional coldness of the gesture was more insulting than any screaming match. It w

d said to her. Walmart c

led him for evicting

. His hands were shakin

d rang. The

u? I'm sorry. I didn't know ab

reen, willing the t

later, his p

ing-off period. I handled the S

re we

cold. So p

, hard lump in his throat. The apartment felt massive, a

The ringtone was the default

the ID. Fam

d. It was

ered. "

I'm afraid I have bad news. Your grandfat

phone. It clattered

f Sloane's perfume in the air, as

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The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune
The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune
“I spent three years playing the "low-maintenance" fiancée to Eliseo Fitzpatrick, a billionaire who believed he'd rescued me from a life of discount clothes and rural poverty. I kept his secrets and balanced his books, treating our engagement like a cold, professional audit. But on my twenty-sixth birthday, the balance sheet finally broke. My best friend dragged me to a surprise party that turned out to be an ambush. I walked into a VIP suite to find Eliseo dazed and disheveled, with models draped over his lap and his shirt stained with wine that looked like a fresh wound. When I tried to leave, Eliseo's guilt turned into a weapon. He pinned me against the door and hissed that without him, I'd be nothing but a country girl in Walmart rags. The next day, his "close friend" Sloane was in our apartment wearing his shirt, laughing that it was only a matter of time before she took my place in his bed. At his grandfather's funeral, his family didn't even hide their contempt. His mother called me a gold-digging nobody, and his brother mocked me in front of the grieving crowd. "So, you're the village girl who tricked my brother?" They thought I was a penniless pawn, a girl they could discard now that the patriarch was dead and the Fitzpatrick fortune was up for grabs. I stood in their library, listening to them argue over the spoils of a man they never loved. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. I just waited for the lawyer to open the final folder. "Arthur Fitzpatrick appointed a new executor," the lawyer announced, and the room went silent. "It's Flavia Lancaster." I looked at my stunned fiancé and his greedy family, then pulled out my phone to freeze every single one of their bank accounts. "The audit begins now."”