The Disowned Heiress And Her Billionaire Protector

A full week passed. The fever finally broke, though the sharp, stabbing pain in her fractured ribs still flared with every deep breath. She stood alone in the massive walk-in closet of the guest room.

She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and hard. She thought about the lies Cathi spread. She thought about Aidan's blood in the mud.

She reached onto the vanity and picked up a pair of heavy silver scissors. She grabbed her long, dark hair in one hand. Without blinking, she sliced the blades through the thick strands. She cut it all off until it fell just above her shoulders.

Mrs. Wallace pushed the door open, carrying a tray of breakfast. She saw the hair on the floor and froze in shock.

She turned around. Her face was completely calm. She looked at the housekeeper and said the weak girl named Tina died in the rain.

She stated her true name clearly. "From today on, there is only Evelena Valenzuela." She said she was reclaiming her birthright and would use her real name to take back everything that belonged to her.

That afternoon, Evelena decided she needed to leave the apartment. She needed clothes that fit her new identity.

Ingram was at the office. When Mrs. Wallace called him, he immediately dispatched two plainclothes security contractors to follow Evelena from a distance.

Evelena put on a pair of dark sunglasses and a simple black trench coat. She walked into a high-end luxury mall on Fifth Avenue.

She walked into a French couture boutique she used to visit with her mother. The saleswoman at the front immediately recognized her face.

The saleswoman remembered the tabloid articles. Her polite smile vanished. She looked Evelena up and down with obvious disgust and crossed her arms.

Evelena ignored the look. She walked straight toward a rack in the center of the store. She reached out to touch a deep blue velvet evening gown.

Before her fingers brushed the fabric, another hand shot out and yanked the dress away. The hand had bright red, acrylic nails.

A loud, annoying laugh filled the store. Felicia Roberts stepped out from behind the rack. She was wearing a tight designer dress and tapping her high heels loudly against the marble floor.

Felicia looked at Evelena's chopped hair. She laughed louder. She told Evelena she looked like a homeless rat sleeping on the subway.

Evelena endured the sharp ache in her ribs, refusing to show weakness. She did not look away. She did not shrink back. She stared directly into Felicia's eyes. Her gaze was as cold as ice.

Felicia felt a chill run down her arms. She hated that look. She wanted to humiliate her. She raised her voice so everyone in the store could hear.

Felicia yelled at the saleswoman. She asked why they let a known thief into the store. She said Evelena was kicked out of her family for stealing.

The wealthy women shopping in the store stopped. They turned around and started whispering. They pointed their manicured fingers at Evelena.

The saleswoman rushed over. She smiled apologetically at Felicia. Then she turned to Evelena and harshly told her to leave the premises immediately.

Evelena let out a short, cold laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest. She took one step closer to Felicia, invading her space.

She leaned in and spoke in a low voice. She told Felicia that no matter how much expensive trash she wore, she still smelled like a cheap, desperate gold digger.

Felicia's face turned bright red. Her eyes widened in fury. She raised her hand and swung it hard, aiming for Evelena's face.

Evelena was ready. Her hand shot up. She grabbed Felicia's wrist mid-air, ignoring the agonizing flare of pain shooting through her own broken ribs. She squeezed hard and twisted the joint sharply to the side, using pure willpower to fuel her strength.

Felicia screamed in pain. Her fingers opened. Her expensive leather handbag dropped to the floor, spilling lipstick and compacts everywhere.

Evelena pushed Felicia's arm away in disgust. She reached into her trench coat pocket. She pulled out a solid black metal card. She slammed it down onto the glass display counter right in front of the saleswoman.

It was the Centurion card Ingram had forced into her hand before she left. It bore the crest of the Santiago Corporation. It had no limit.

The saleswoman looked at the card. The color drained from her face. Her knees actually buckled. She knew exactly what that card meant. She bowed her head instantly and started stammering apologies.

The women whispering in the back saw the black card. They gasped. The looks of disgust turned into wide-eyed fear and respect.

Felicia rubbed her throbbing wrist. She stared at the black card. She screamed that it was impossible. She yelled that Evelena must have stolen it.

Evelena picked up the blue velvet dress from the counter. She threw it directly into Felicia's face. She told the saleswoman she didn't want it anymore because trash had touched it.

Evelena turned around. She walked toward the exit, her back straight, her chin held high.

Felicia ripped the dress off her face. She pointed a shaking finger at Evelena's back. She screamed that she was going to destroy her at the charity gala next week.

Evelena stopped at the door. She slowly turned her head. She looked at Felicia and smiled. It was a terrifying, empty smile.

She walked out of the store. The two hidden bodyguards fell into step behind her, leaving Felicia screaming in the middle of the boutique.