The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 521 | Released on: 02/02/2026

n Flavia's phone ra

t let it go to voicemail, but so

avi

sound she had never heard from

pa is

patrick. The only man in that family who had treated her wit

ight down,

black dress she kept for emergencies-a habit fro

hotel. Eliseo's car

eering wheel so hard his knuckles were

the back. She sat i

her hand over his on the wh

sorry,

He let out a shuddering breath. He turned his hand o

y. The rain started to fall, drumming a r

p," Eliseo said quie

of water and handed it to him. He t

them," Eliseo sai

. His parents. His

ll handle them. You just focu

her profile was sharp, determined. She didn't look like

days, they weren't ene

. The florist. The security team. The catering. She i

she had organize

patrick Manor. The driveway was lined with ancient oa

Christmas tree. Cars were alrea

took a deep breath and put on a pair of

led her seatb

Thank you for coming. E

Her hand was on

re for

iseo extended his arm. It was a re

ction of a second. Then, s

ed up the steps and

Chapter End

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The Secret Heiress: Freezing My Ex's Fortune

Bao Fu Ya Ya Modern

“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."”