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The Real Heiress Strikes Back Novel Cover

The Real Heiress Strikes Back

During Ivy Henson’s wedding, her brother interrupts the vows with the fake heiress, demanding Clive—Ivy’s psychologist fiancé—treat her sudden PTSD. As Ivy prepares to object, mysterious floating comments warn her of a trap: Clive is sleeping with the fake heiress, who is merely trying to ruin the wedding for a bet. If Ivy interferes, her family will lock her in an asylum to die. Choosing silence, Ivy decides to orchestrate a devastating revenge of her own.
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Chapter 3

3: 3

3

That one apology drained everything I had left.

Seeing me give in, a flicker of triumph crossed Joyce's eyes.

She put on her generous, kindhearted act and stepped forward to take my arm.

"It's all right, Ivy. I don't blame you—"

Before her hand even touched me, she let out a little cry and crumpled to the floor.

Her eyes reddened, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Ivy, I really do want us to get along. Why can't you just make room for me?"

Clive shoved me hard.

I lost my balance, and my palm came down full-force onto the broken glass scattered across the floor.

Blood welled up at once, staining the white gown red.

But no one so much as glanced at me.

My parents, my own brother—all of them rushed to Joyce on the floor, faces tight with worry.

"Joyce, are you okay? Did the fall hurt you?"

"Don't be upset. Ivy's the one who doesn't know when she's well off."

"Stop crying now, your health comes first!"

My mother, beside herself, raised her hand and swung at me without a second's hesitation.

My blood-soaked hand caught her wrist and held it, a mocking smile tugging at my lips.

"I didn't push her. Why won't any of you believe me?"

"You can all stop performing for me. This wedding—I'm not going through with it."

"And your Henson family, I'm not going back to either."

"An apology like that—is that sincere enough for you?"

I was tired. And I was done, for good.

I would take Granny back to our little mountain village and look after the only person who ever loved me.

My parents' faces changed in an instant, full of shock and disbelief.

They were so used to my groveling, my swallowed pride, my giving way, that it had never once crossed their minds I would cut it all off myself.

Clive looked down at my bleeding hands, and something flickered in his eyes—reluctance, and a trace of panic.

Seeing everyone hesitate, Joyce tore herself out of the family's arms.

Clutching her chest, sobbing wildly, she ran like a madwoman toward the rooftop.

"I'm just a burden. From start to finish, I've only ever been a burden."

"If Ivy can't stand to have me around, then I might as well die!"

A gasp went through the guests, and they all surged up after her to the roof.

"Ivy is so cruel—there's a life at stake and she's still nursing a grudge over her wedding!"

"Exactly. What's so wrong with letting her fiancé treat her?"

"Poor Joyce. Being the fake heiress already put her in such an awkward spot, and now she's been driven to a dead end and the only way out is death."

The floating comments told a completely different story, spilling everything.

【Classic sob-story ploy. Joyce has run this act eight hundred times in three years, and someone falls for it every single time!】

【Joyce made a bet with her girlfriend that she could steal Ivy's fiancé right in front of everyone. The prize is the newest Chanel bag—a limited edition you can't buy no matter how much money you've got.】

【To win a bet, she'll even stage a jump off a roof. You have to hand it to her, she's committed!】

I watched the theatrical woman up on the roof with cold eyes, and felt nothing at all.

Clive's face went pale as he shouted up at Joyce, standing at the edge.

The panic and doting in his voice were things I had never once been given.

"Joyce, don't do anything rash. Come down and I'll start your intervention therapy right away."

"Just come down, and whatever you want, I'll give it to you!"

Luke slapped me across the face, and my ears rang.

"Are you satisfied now? If anything happens to Joyce, I'll make you pay with your life."

My mother clung to me, begging through her tears.

"Ivy, just let Clive treat Joyce, I'm begging you."

"If Joyce dies, I won't be able to go on living either."

Every ounce of the terror and tenderness in her eyes was for Joyce.

I looked at her steadily, and all that was left in my chest was cold.

Suddenly I found myself wondering how she would react if she knew the truth.

My father was frantic with rage.

"Clive, hurry, go calm Joyce down and treat her."

"You're so good at this, it'll only take you a few minutes to steady her."

The floating comments exploded across the screen.

【A few minutes? Dream on. With Clive's skill it'd take a good two hours at least.】

【Treatment my foot. He's using the chance for a private tryst, cheating in broad daylight.】

【This family's double standards and favoritism go all the way to the bone. It makes your blood boil to watch.】

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