He Return of the Discarded Heiress

Chapter 3 I don't need your money

Word Count: 687 | Released on: 16/03/2026

ooking at her pale, expressionless face, his voice softened with practiced concern. "You have everything? You can

d glance at Ainsley, but her pride kept her silent ov

ston's words with sweet insincerity. "Yeah, sis, Dad gave it t

ence hang, the i

ance she cast Katharina was cold, untamab

, superior expression matched every other Thomas in the ro

ank card Preston had forced into her palm and set i

u don't believe me. Aside from the laptop I bought myself with my own m

landed lik

ially Eleanor and Meredith, who had stayed silent out of f

ver knew how to be obedient.

ice dripping with manufactured concern. "Sis, that's not what Mom, Dad, and Grandma meant. You're being way too sensitive. We'v

her gaze drop to t

wherever you're going... it's not exactly D.C. You'll need cash for everything

as surgical. Deli

xpression souring as he forced a nod. "Y

hen back at the family arranged before her like a portrait of hypo

t looked at the caller ID, then toward

icked shut

Hmph. An ungrateful stray, through and through. Sixteen years we

, honey over venom. "Grandmother, she's just ea

gh... she said she only took her laptop, but th

atriarch. "Forget it. Sixteen years. Let her take

s if she could still see the girl walking away. Her lip

enuine affection. "And you-stop calling her 'sist

pavement, distorting the air. The streets were nearly empty-just a f

Wraith sat idling at the c

Chapter End

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He Return of the Discarded Heiress

Ying Luo Modern

“For three years, I wasn't a foster child. I was a living, breathing cure. Hidden away in the attic of the Thomas mansion, my sole purpose was to keep their precious daughter alive. Every week, they drained my blood to treat her rare disease, leaving me anemic, scarred, and invisible. I was the "walking blood bag" from the wrong side of the tracks-a stray they'd reluctantly taken in. The day Katharina was finally cured, I overheard the truth. "That walking blood bag has served her purpose," the grandmother hissed. "We are done with her." They threw me out into a freezing rainstorm, tossing a crumpled check at my feet like a tip for a beggar. Payment, they said, for the years I'd "leeched" off their family. Payment for the six thousand milliliters of blood they'd stolen, for the chronic anemia, for the scars. I shredded their charity in front of their faces and walked into the storm. They laughed, screaming that I'd be back, that I'd be begging on the streets by morning. But as I stood alone on that dark road, my world shifted. A sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up in silence. The door opened, and my real family stepped out. I wasn't a stray from the slums. I was their lost heiress. And the Thomases are about to learn that the girl they bled dry is now the one holding all the power.”