Too Late, I Am The Real Heiress

deline stepped into the marble

polite smile. Adeline gave a single, curt nod and p

nch coat tighter across her chest. She turned south on Fifth Avenue, her boots hitting the pavement in

d slid onto the cracked vinyl seat. She reached into her tote bag, pulle

Keep driving until

m her pocket. She popped the SIM tray open with the edge of her earring. She pulled the tiny chi

ngers closed around a heavy, compact device. It was a military-gr

n. The biometric scanner flashed green.

deline said, h

bypassed local cell towers, connecting directly to a private satellite. It route

ne Sta

d in a thick British accent. It shook with an e

armor she had worn for the last hour

r," she

h the phone, like a heavy

meone in the background. His voice came back to the rece

ar from her cheek. "Call off your security te

ky breath. "Did that S

er smile. "Evan is marrying Piper

t held zero humor. "Piper Finch? Since when

over her index finger. "She is a fake. And

q by tomorrow morning," Alistair said, the threat

sing streetlights. "That is too easy. I want t

ll seconds. "Your black card is

led over in front of an unmarked, iron-wrought door.

d assistant will be in New York tomorrow to hand you the keys to the kingdom. Do not disapp

ve that even without the Stafford family halo, I could make a man love me for who I truly am. I wanted a life that was mine, built on genuine affection,

dge. "You have nothing left to prove to anyon

ing the call. The weight of the satellite phone in

a tailored suit stepped into her path, his eyes s

s only.

ard, pure black, embossed with the subtle crest of the Staff

from his face. He bowed at a sharp ninety-degree angle, his hand

ounge. Low bass from a jazz track thumped in the floorboards. She bypassed the

r, sliding a leather-bou

menu back. "Macalla

Patek Philippe. She tossed it onto the bar. The

warm trail down her throat. She stared through the amber alcohol at a group of Wall Street executive