The Billionaire's Discarded Heiress: Crawling Back to Her

Eliana

It had been exactly seven days.

Seven days since I dragged my bleeding, broken body out of Miguel’s mansion and into the freezing rain. Seven days since my entire reality shattered.

And seven days since Rekho, the most powerful billionaire, looked at the birthmark on my neck and realized I was the daughter he had been mourning for twenty-five years.

My wounds from the kidney surgery were finally healing, I looked at my reflection and barely recognized the woman staring back.

Martha, the head maid, had brought in a team of elite Parisian stylists. I was wearing a custom-made, midnight-black gown.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

"Come in.”

Over the past week, I had learned everything about the man standing before me. Craig wasn't Rekho’s biological son; he had been adopted from an orphanage in London when he was ten. But he didn't coast on the Rekho name. Craig had built his own massive empire from the ground up.

"The cars are downstairs," Craig said.

"Rekho is waiting in the main foyer. He wants to make sure the press is completely"

Craig stopped.

He froze mid-sentence, his hand still resting on the brass doorknob. His grey eyes slowly dragged up the length of my body, tracing the slit of my dress, lingering on the curve of my waist, before finally locking onto my face.

Then, just as quickly, the heavy iron mask slammed back into place.

"You look..." Craig cleared his throat softly, looking away toward the window. "You look presentable, Eliana. Let's go."

"Thank you, Craig," I whispered, hiding the sudden rush of heat in my cheeks.

Tonight was the annual Rekho Global Summit, an exclusive gala where the elite of the elite gathered to grovel for investments.

When we stepped into the massive, gold-gilded ballroom, the sheer scale of the wealth was suffocating. Thousands of crystal chandeliers hung from the painted ceilings. Waiters carried trays of champagne that cost more than a car.

Rekho held my hand tightly, his chest puffed with absolute pride.

"Smile, my darling," Arthur murmured, kissing my cheek. "Tonight, they all bow to you."

"Eliana, I want you to meet Bella," Arthur said, gesturing to a stunning woman in a red dress.

I gasped softly. It was Bella, the A-list Hollywood actress I had adored for years.

"Oh, darling, look at you!" Bella smiled warmly, taking my hands. "Arthur hasn't stopped talking about you all week. You look absolutely devastating."

"Thank you, it's an honor to meet you," I smiled, feeling a genuine spark of happiness.

Through it all, I could feel Craig. Every time I turned my head, those piercing grey eyes were already on me, watching, protecting, consuming.

"I'm going to get a glass of water," I told Rekho gently.

"Take the private corridor to the left, dear," he replied.

I slipped away from the crowd, craving just two minutes of silence.

"What the hell are you doing here, Eliana?"

I froze. My blood ran ice-cold.

I turned around slowly.

Miguel stood there, dressed in a sharp tuxedo. And clinging to his arm like a parasite was Henrietta, dripping in the diamonds that my kidney had effectively paid for.

Of course he was here. Miguel’s company was hemorrhaging money. He was desperate for a contract with the Rekho conglomerate to save his failing margins.

"I asked you a question," Miguel demanded, his dark eyes flashing with arrogance as he stepped closer. "How did you get past security? Are you stalking me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Miguel," I said, my voice dead calm. The fear I thought I would feel was completely gone. Looking at him now, he just looked small.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Miguel sneered, gesturing aggressively to my custom gown and the diamond necklace resting against my collarbone. "Did you steal those? Are you tricking some old, rich fool into paying your bills now? I knew you were cheap, but this is a new low."

"Miguel, please," Henrietta whined, stepping forward and glaring at me with pure disgust. "She's just trying to cause a scene to ruin our night."

"Why can't you get over the fact that it's over, Eliana?" Miguel scoffed, puffing out his chest to feed his massive ego. "I abandoned you. I divorced you. You were nothing but a spare part for my health. Move on!"

"Seriously," Henrietta chimed in, crossing her arms. "Move on! You are pathetic. Now get out before I have the security throw you out into the street where you belong."

"Is there a problem here?"

Craig stepped out, He looked lethal.

Miguel's face instantly shifted from arrogant to completely terrified. He knew exactly who Craig was. Every businessman in the world was terrified of Craig.

"Mr. Rekho," Miguel stammered, immediately releasing Henrietta's arm. "No, sir. No problem at all. We were just... dealing with a trespasser. This woman has been harassing my fiancé."

Craig kept his eyes locked on me.

"Are you ready, Eliana?" Craig asked softly. "Petrax is walking to the podium."

"Yes," I said, stepping right past Miguel and Henrietta without giving them a second glance.

"Wait, Mr. Rekho, you know this woman?" Miguel asked, utter confusion lacing his voice.

Craig finally turned his head. He looked at Miguel the way a lion looks at a dying rat. "Keep your mouth shut, Miguel. Before I buy your pathetic little company tomorrow morning and liquidate it for sport."

Miguel turned stark pale.

Craig placed a warm hand on my lower back, guiding me back into the main ballroom.

The orchestra stopped playing. The low murmur of the thousands of guests faded into absolute silence as Petrax Rekho stepped up to the gold microphone at the center of the grand stage.

Miguel and Henrietta followed us into the room, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching closely.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur’s booming voice echoed through the massive speakers. "I did not invite you here tonight to discuss mergers or stock margins."

The room held its collective breath.

"Twenty-five years ago, my heart was ripped from my chest when my infant daughter was taken from me," Arthur continued, his voice thick with emotion. Tears shined in his dark eyes. "I spent my life building this empire with empty hands. But a week ago, a miracle walked back into my life."

Rekho looked directly at me. He smiled.

"I want to introduce you all to the sole biological heir of the Rekho Conglomerate," Petrax announced loudly. "My blood. My daughter. Eliana Rekho."

A collective, deafening gasp ripped through the ballroom.

I stepped forward into the blinding spotlight. The camera flashes erupted like a violent thunderstorm. Thousands of eyes stared at me in pure shock and awe.

But I only looked at one person.

Miguel.

He was standing near the ice sculpture. His jaw was entirely unhinged. The crystal champagne glass slipped from his fingers and shattered into a hundred pieces on the marble floor. The color completely drained from his face until he looked like a corpse.

Henrietta looked like she was going to throw up. She grabbed the edge of a table, her knees literally buckling under the weight of the realization.

The plain, broke girl they threw out into the rain was the heir to an empire that could buy their entire bloodline ten times over.

The media rushed forward, shouting questions, thrusting microphones over the velvet ropes. Rekho kept a protective arm around me, smiling for the cameras.

After twenty minutes of the frenzy, Rehko leaned in. "Go catch your breath, darling. I'll handle the vultures."

I nodded and carefully made my way out of the flashing lights, heading toward the private VIP lounge.

"Eliana!"

I stopped.

Miguel was running toward me, pushing through the crowd of elite guests. His tuxedo was slightly rumpled, his hair messy. He looked completely unhinged. Desperate.

"Eliana, wait!" Miguel begged, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of me. "Please, just listen to me."

"Don't speak to me," I said coldly.

"I didn't know!" Miguel pleaded, his voice cracking. He reached out and actually grabbed my bare arm. "You didn't tell me who you were! If I had known, I never would have—"

"You never would have treated me like a spare part?" I laughed bitterly. "You're disgusting, Miguel."

Henrietta finally caught up to him. She stood a few feet away, her face bright red, looking so humiliated she couldn't even make eye contact with me.

"Please, Eliana, we can fix this," Miguel groveled, his fingers tightening on my skin. He stepped closer, trying to lower his voice. Then, he looked past me and saw Craig standing a few feet away, watching us.

Suddenly, the desperate groveling turned into toxic, irrational jealousy.

"Is this what this is?" Miguel hissed, his face twisting in fury. "You threw yourself at another man? You're sleeping with Craig now to get back at me? I'm your husband, Eliana!"

"Take your hand off me," I warned.

"You're coming with me," Miguel demanded, tugging my arm intimately, trying to assert his dominance. "We are going to talk about this"

A massive hand shot out of nowhere and clamped around Miguel's throat.

Craig didn't just push him. He lifted Miguel entirely off his feet and slammed him violently backward into a marble pillar.

"Aah!" Miguel choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Craig’s iron grip.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut," Craig growled, his British accent completely dropping into a dark, feral snarl. His grey eyes were pitch black with pure, unadulterated rage. "If you ever touch her again, if you ever breathe in her direction again, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand?"

Miguel nodded frantically, his face turning purple.

Craig dropped him in disgust. Miguel collapsed to the floor, coughing violently while Henrietta rushed over, too terrified to speak.

Craig didn't wait. He grabbed my hand, his grip warm and possessive, and dragged me down the hallway.

"Craig, wait—" I started.

He didn't listen. He pulled me past the security guards, shoved open the heavy oak doors of a private, dimly lit VIP suite, and pulled me inside.

He kicked the door shut and locked it.

Before I could process what was happening, Craig spun me around and pinned me gently but firmly against the wall. His large hands braced on the wood on either side of my head, trapping me completely.

His chest heaved. He was breathing so heavily I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Craig," I whispered, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. "What are you doing?"

"I am losing my mind, Eliana," Craig rasped, leaning his forehead against mine.

His scent—expensive cologne, dark whiskey, and pure danger—wrapped around me completely. My breath hitched as his gaze dropped to my lips.

"I've never felt this way before," Craig confessed, his voice a rough, desperate whisper. He brought one hand up, his long fingers threading into my hair, tracing the sensitive skin of my jaw. "I am a rational man. I control everything. But you... why do you seem to bring out the emotions in me that I didn't even know I had?"

"We just met," I breathed, trembling under his touch.

"I don't care," he stated fiercely. His thumb brushed across my lower lip, sending a massive jolt of electricity straight to my core. "I could barely contain my emotions seeing how he touched you. Seeing him put his filthy hands on what is mine."

"Yours?" I gasped softly.

"Mine," Craig confirmed, his eyes burning into my soul.

He didn't give me a chance to argue.

Craig suddenly leaned down and crashed his lips against mine.

It wasn't gentle. It was completely consuming. It was a kiss fueled by a week of pent-up tension, jealousy, and explosive chemistry. My mind completely blanked. Every coherent thought evaporated as his tongue swept into my mouth, demanding complete surrender.

I let out a soft whimper, my hands instinctively reaching up to fist in his thick, dark hair.

Craig groaned deep in his chest at the sound. He pressed his massive body flush against mine, molding my soft curves against his hard planes. His hands roamed frantically, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, gripping my waist tightly to pull me even closer.

The heat between us was completely out of control.

"Eliana," he breathed heavily against my lips, his kisses trailing down my jawline and sinking into the sensitive skin of my neck.

His hand found the zipper at the back of my custom gown.

With one smooth, fluid motion, he pulled it down. The black silk slipped off my shoulders, pooling slightly at my waist, exposing the lace of my lingerie.

Craig stepped back just a fraction of an inch to look at me. His eyes were dark, incredibly hungry, completely captivated by what he saw. He reached out, his warm fingers tracing the edge of the lace on my chest.

"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered thickly, leaning back in to capture my lips again.