Reclaiming My Heiress Identity

Mike found this man nothing but a nuisance.

Jeff, on the other hand, looked completely exasperated.

"Quinn, don’t court death."

But the warning did nothing to deter Quinn. Instead, it only fueled his amusement.

"Oh? Is this rag of a dress really that important to you?" He smirked before his gaze slithered toward Emma, sharp and calculating. "How about this—you hand Emma over to me, and I’ll give you the dress."

His cold, snake-like stare sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. A flicker of malice danced in his eyes, making her skin prickle with unease.

She knew exactly what kind of man Quinn was.

What else could one expect from a Payton heir, born from a family drenched in filth?

The last time she escaped from him, she barely survived. That horrifying experience was still etched into her bones.

Mike and Jeff were beyond his reach, but she wasn’t.

For Quinn, crushing her would be as effortless as squashing an ant.

Emma’s breath hitched.

But within moments, she forced herself to calm down.

No.

Mike and Jeff wouldn’t let her die—not with them here.

Even if she was just a stand-in, five years together meant something… right?

They wouldn’t—

But then, her heart faltered.

This time, the choice was between her life and Emilly’s dress.

Whenever Emilly was involved, she ceased to exist in their eyes.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Growing impatient, Quinn abruptly kicked the clothing rack, making the salesgirl next to him tremble in fear.

"Well? Have you decided?" His voice dripped with mockery. "If you keep stalling, I’ll just give this dress to my men. And then… heh, don’t even think about begging me. I heard this dress is Emilly’s favorite designer piece, isn’t it?"

He ran his fingers over the pristine white fabric, his filthy hands leaving a disgusting contrast against its purity.

Jeff’s jaw clenched. His temples throbbed.

"Enough."

He shoved Quinn aside, his expression eerily calm.

Then, without hesitation, he glanced at Mike and gave a slight nod.

"You can take her."

Emma’s mind went blank.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Did she hear that correctly?

Quinn let out a delighted chuckle, signaling his men to seize Emma by arms.

Cold sweat drenched her skin.

Before she could even process what was happening, Jeff suddenly turned to the salesgirl.

"What are you waiting for? Get them out of here. If they so much as touch the dress we ordered again, it’s on your heads."

Without a second thought, the staff rushed to shove both Quinn and Emma toward the exit.

As the heavy doors slammed shut behind her, Emma screamed their names with all the strength she had left.

But they didn’t turn around.

They didn’t even glance in her direction.

Instead, with pleased expressions, they admired the dress they were about to gift to Emilly.

Smack!

A sharp slap sent Emma’s head whipping to the side.

Quinn let out a dark chuckle.

"Still think they’d protect you?" he sneered. "Wake up. They’ve loved Emilly for over ten years—always watching her, worshiping her. You? You’re nothing. Just a replacement. A toy. Did you really think this was real?"

His laughter echoed in her ears.

"Hah! I bet they wouldn’t even blink if I killed you right now."

With that, his men hauled her toward the waiting car.

Emma barely resisted.

Because there was nothing left to resist.

The curtains inside the boutique had already been drawn.

She had been abandoned.

Between her and Emilly, Mike and Jeff had chosen without hesitation.

A rough bag was yanked over her head, plunging her into darkness.

Laughter and taunts filled the air, but Emma didn’t react.

Instead, she silently curled her fingers around the door handle, preparing herself for what came next.