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Reclaiming the Billionaire Heiress Throne Novel Cover

Reclaiming the Billionaire Heiress Throne

After five years of hiding her massive inheritance to act as Tristan’s humble fiancée, she is betrayed at the altar. Humiliated by his foster sister and physically cast aside by Tristan himself, she barely survives with her unborn child. When he tries to steal her startup and mocks her supposed poverty, her patience breaks. She contacts Liam Holls, the formidable billionaire she left years ago. Now, her ex-fiancé will discover her true power as she unleashes a ruthless force to destroy him.
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Chapter 3

"Sign the transfer papers, Elena, and I might just let you sleep on the couch tonight instead of the street."

His hand clamped around my wrist like a steel vice, his fingers digging brutally into my skin as he dragged me fully into the living room.

The heavy front door slammed shut behind us. The deadbolt clicked into place with a terrifying, final snap.

I stumbled, my knees hitting the hardwood floor hard. My free hand instantly flew to my stomach, curling inward to protect the fragile life growing inside me.

"What is this?" I whispered, my throat burning with the effort to speak.

"Compensation," Tristan said coldly, crossing his arms. "You humiliated Paula today. You physically assaulted her. She’s traumatized, Elena. The least you can do is make amends."

I slowly pulled myself up, my eyes dropping to the papers spilling out of the folder.

It was a transfer of ownership agreement.

For my company.

For the past three years, while I was working myself to the bone at diners and taking on late-night data entry jobs to pay Tristan’s rent, I had slowly built a small software startup. I coded at the kitchen table until my eyes blurred and my fingers cramped, all while Tristan slept comfortably in the next room.

It was finally starting to turn a massive profit. It was my only safety net. My only achievement that didn't belong to him.

And now, he wanted to steal it.

"You want my company?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and absolute disgust. "To give to Paula?"

"Don't act like it's a big deal. It's just a tiny startup," Tristan scoffed, rolling his eyes as if I were being unreasonable. "Paula has always wanted to be a CEO. It will be a nice little hobby for her. She needs the allowance. Besides, you owe me. Who put a roof over your head for five years?"

I paid the rent. I paid for the groceries. I paid for the very shoes on his feet.

But looking at the arrogant, entitled monster standing above me, I realized arguing was completely pointless.

A sharp, agonizing cramp twisted deep in my lower abdomen.

My breath hitched. The doctor’s warning echoed loudly in my ears.

If I stayed here, if I fought him right now, the stress and his violence would kill my baby.

"I... I need a pen," I stammered, keeping my head down, letting my wine-soaked hair hide my face. "And I need to wash the blood off my hands before I sign."

"Make it quick. If you try to pull a stunt, I'll throw you out in that ruined dress without a single dime to your name."

I scrambled to my feet, clutching my stomach, and practically ran down the short hallway to the guest bathroom.

I slammed the door shut. I twisted the lock, then shoved my entire body weight against the wood, sliding down until I hit the cold tile floor.

My chest heaved. I clamped a hand over my mouth, biting down on my own palm to muffle the violent sobs tearing their way out of my throat.

But I didn't have time to mourn. I didn't have time to cry over a man who never loved me.

With shaking, frantic hands, I grabbed my purse from where I had dropped it by the sink earlier.

I dug my fingernails into the thick inner lining, ripping the cheap fabric apart.

Hidden deep inside the seam, wrapped in a protective sleeve, was a small, heavy, encrypted black phone.

It hadn't been charged in five years, but its battery was military-grade. The screen flickered to life instantly, glowing with a cold, blue light in the dim bathroom.

This phone was my past.

Five years ago, I ran away from a world of suffocating power, ruthless expectations, and absolute control. I hid my true identity. I became "Elena," a normal, poor girl who just wanted a simple life and a quiet family.

I thought I had found it with Tristan.

I was so incredibly stupid.

Tears streamed down my face, dropping onto the glowing glass screen.

There was only one number saved in the contacts.

My thumb hovered over the call button, trembling violently.

If I made this call, my quiet life was over. The dangerous, elite world I had desperately escaped would drag me right back in. There would be no hiding anymore.

Bang!

Tristan’s fist slammed against the bathroom door, making the wood rattle against my spine.

"Elena! What is taking so long? Stop crying in there and come sign these papers!"

Another sharp cramp tore through my stomach, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I closed my eyes, and I pressed the button.

The line rang once. Twice.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Please. Please still have this number.

On the third ring, the line clicked open.

The silence on the other end was heavy, suffocating, and incredibly dangerous.

Then, a voice spoke.

Deep, powerful, and vibrating with an authority that commanded entire empires.

"Elena?"

Hearing his voice after five years completely broke whatever strength I had left.

The dam shattered. A pathetic, broken sob ripped from my throat, echoing in the small bathroom.

"Liam..." I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, choking on my own tears. "Liam... please. Save me."

The silence on the other end vanished.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees just from the sound of Liam Holls’s breathing shifting over the speaker.

When he spoke again, his voice wasn't just deep. It was deadly cold. A terrifying promise of absolute destruction.

"Who hurt you?" Liam demanded.

Before I could even open my mouth to answer, a deafening crash exploded right beside my ear.

Wood splintered. Metal shrieked.

Tristan violently kicked the bathroom door completely off its hinges.

The heavy door slammed into the bathtub, and Tristan stood in the doorway, his face twisted in a vicious, ugly rage, staring right at me and the glowing phone in my hand.

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