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Too Late For Regret: The True Heiress

Too Late For Regret: The True Heiress

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Chapter 1 

Word Count: 870    |    Released on: Today at 09:25

que clasped her hands together, her voice a reverent hush. "You are the

woman looking back was a stranger, encased in a million dollars' worth of ivo

the syrupy compliments. It came from her cl

formed in her stomach. She gave a cur

it. The screen lit up with the na

her voice fl

o stay calm!" Kaylynn's voice was a ragged whispe

d the assistant exchange an uneasy glance, their refl

g at them. Her gaze was locked on her o

er words tumbling over each other. "Across from NY Premier W

glass. The hand holding the phone gr

was holding the door for someone. He was helping her down the

A photo. With a thumb that felt disconnecte

d, crisp and da

as a look of profound, tender devotion. His hand, the same hand that was supposed to place a ring on her finger in three weeks, w

Fifth Avenue-it all dissolved into a roaring silence. The only sound was the frantic, p

y savage they were generously polishing into a society wife. Three years of an engagement that was nothin

or was no longer a hollow shell. A dangero

gasp echoed

dug her fingers into the delicate French lace, the t

g fabric was like a

eetheart neckline down to her waist. The ma

kirt, shredding the layers of tulle and silk organza. She ripped the veil from her hair, tearing it in two. I

stammered, her face ashen.

the air, sharp and cold as a shard of

on the floor. With methodical, unnervingly calm movements, she p

e for work, began to ri

lined the call, then blocked the number. A moment later, it ra

d. Her voice was a pla

liar edge of impatience he reserved only for

ugh caught in her t

te rest. No stress, no excitement." He paused, gathering himself

he lie, to the pathe

She looked at the carnage of the dress on

d, her voice im

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Too Late For Regret: The True Heiress
Too Late For Regret: The True Heiress
“Three weeks before the wedding, Stella Beaumont stood in a luxury boutique, encased in a million-dollar custom gown. It was the perfect dress for her perfect, arranged marriage into the Carlisle empire. Then her phone buzzed with a photo from her best friend. It was her fiancé, Ethan, tenderly escorting her perpetually ill stepsister, Isabelle, out of an OB/GYN clinic. When Stella confronted him, Ethan coldly offered her a one-way ticket to Paris as hush money. Down in the lobby, Isabelle faked a dramatic collapse to frame her. Ethan violently shoved Stella aside to cradle his mistress. Soon after, Stella's own mother called. "Get on your knees and beg Isabelle for forgiveness, or you are no longer a Beaumont!" When Stella refused, her mother instantly disowned her and froze every single one of her bank accounts. For years, her biological parents had treated her like a disposable commodity while showering the fake daughter with love. Now, they thought they could strip her of her funds and force her to swallow this ultimate humiliation. But they had no idea who they were dealing with. Stella didn't shed a single tear. She shredded the custom gown, shoved Isabelle's head into a freezing plaza fountain, and posted the cheating evidence online for all of New York society to see. Then, bypassing her frozen family trust, she pulled out a mysterious, limitless black card with a royal crest. "I'm not the jilted fiancée. I'm the one who ended it." She was done playing the obedient pawn. It was time to flip the board.”