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Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret Novel Cover

Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret

For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk. The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for. "You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip." My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father. I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth. But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move. "Get dressed. We're going to a party."
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Chapter 4

Frank pushed open the door. It creaked on its hinges, revealing a room that was barely larger than a walk-in closet at the Carlisle estate.

"This was Jenny and... and Vanessa's room," Frank said, his voice dropping on the name.

The walls were plastered with old posters and peeling stickers. A bunk bed took up most of the space. The bottom bunk was empty, stripped to the bare mattress. The wall beside it was a shrine to Vanessa-certificates, ribbons, photos of a smiling girl with blonde hair.

Aria stepped inside. The air was stale, carrying the faint, cloying scent of vanilla body spray. Vanessa's scent.

Jenny squeezed past her. "Top bunk is mine," she said, claiming her territory. "Don't touch my drafting table."

She pointed to a small, cluttered desk in the corner covered in sketches.

"Understood," Aria said.

She dropped her backpack onto the bottom bunk. The mattress springs groaned loudly. It was thin, lumpy.

Leo appeared in the doorway. He saw Aria looking at the photos on the wall.

"Don't you dare take those down," he spat out. "She's coming back. This is temporary."

Aria looked at the photos. Vanessa smiling at a school dance. Vanessa holding a trophy.

"I have no intention of touching them," Aria said.

She unzipped her backpack. Leo craned his neck, trying to see inside. He expected stacks of cash, jewelry, something valuable.

Aria reached into the hidden, padded back compartment-the one Leo hadn't noticed-and pulled out a slim, carbon-fiber laptop. She placed it under the pillow, then pulled out a simple black t-shirt and a travel-sized toiletry bag.

"Where's the bathroom?" she asked Jenny.

"Down the hall, last door on the left," Jenny said, not looking up from her phone. "Boiler is old. You get ten minutes of hot water if you're lucky."

Aria walked to the bathroom. The tiles were cracked, the grout dark with mold. The shower curtain hung by three rings. She turned the knob. The pipes shuddered, and water sputtered out-brown at first, then clear. It was lukewarm at best.

She stripped and stepped under the spray. She didn't flinch at the cold. She had endured ice baths during training that made this feel like a spa day. She washed quickly, efficiently, scrubbing the scent of the Carlisle mansion off her skin.

When she returned to the room, towel-drying her hair, she froze.

Leo was kneeling by her bed. He had her backpack open. His hand was reaching for the laptop sleeve.

Aria crossed the room in two strides. She didn't yell. She moved with the silence of a predator.

Her hand clamped around Leo's wrist. She didn't use the lethal nerve pinch she knew; she used simple leverage, twisting his arm just enough to off-balance him-a trick taught in any basic women's self-defense class.

Leo yelped, a high-pitched sound of pain and shock. He dropped the bag, his knees hitting the floor hard.

"Hey!" Jenny shouted, jumping down from the top bunk. "What the hell!"

Aria realized what she was doing. The red haze of defensive instinct cleared. She released Leo's wrist instantly.

"Don't touch my bag," she said. Her voice was calm, but there was a tremor of steel underneath. "That is my boundary."

Leo scrambled back, rubbing his wrist. It was already turning red. He looked at her with fear. Not the bratty annoyance from before. Genuine fear.

"There's no money in there," Aria said.

She reached into the side pocket of the bag-the one Leo hadn't touched-and pulled out a small, plush bear keychain. It was worn, missing an eye.

"I found this wedged in the bed frame," she lied. "It must be hers."

She held it out to Leo.

Leo stared at the bear. His aggression deflated. His lip wobbled. He snatched the bear from her hand, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline.

Aria sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress offered zero support. Her back, scarred and sensitive, throbbed in protest.

Jenny turned off the light. The room plunged into darkness.

Aria lay down, staring at the bottom of the top bunk. She could hear Jenny shifting above her, sighing.

She pulled her phone from under her pillow, dimming the screen to the lowest setting. She opened her trading app.

RayMing Tech was up 5%. Her net worth had increased by three million dollars in the time it took her to eat meatloaf.

She closed the app.

Outside the door, in the living room, she heard Frank's hushed voice.

"We can pawn my watch, Susan. We need to get a mattress pad or something. That thing is rock hard."

"No, Frank, you love that watch..."

Aria closed her eyes.

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