The Savage Heiress Quits as the CEO’s Stand-In Wife

Dionne hung up the phone and acted as if nothing had happened.

“A friend’s wedding,” she lied.

Larkin felt she had been acting strangely lately. Narrowing his eyes, he questioned her, “Which friend is getting married? How come I haven’t heard anything about it?”

Dionne met his gaze head-on and raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you ever cared about anything going on in my life?”

For a moment, Larkin was left speechless by her retort.

Seeing him at a loss for words, Dionne sneered inwardly and said calmly, “It’s getting late. You should get some rest now.”

Normally, Larkin would’ve left it at that. But this time, he didn’t go.

Instead, he stepped closer, trapping her by the waist. His tone was unreadable when he said, “Didn’t you always want a child? I’ll make it up to you this time.”

There had been a time when those words would’ve made her heart race because she used to want to tie him down with a child.

But now, all she wanted was to leave him and take nothing that tied her to him.

“Let’s talk about it another time. I’m not in the mood for that tonight.”

Larkin had already lowered himself to say this much for her, and her coldness enraged him even more.

In his eyes, she was just making a fuss.

He let go of her with a scoff. “Suit yourself.”

After he left, Dionne took another shower, scrubbing every spot he had touched.

The next day, she went to the company; there was still a lot of stuff she needed to take care of.

But she hadn’t even stepped into the building when a crowd suddenly swarmed her, throwing eggs and vegetable leaves at her.

“That’s her! Dionne—the adopted daughter who dared to plagiarize the real heiress’s work! She even signed her own name! How shameless!”

“And that’s not all! She’s also a homewrecker! Everyone knows the Jablonski CEO is going to marry Miss Farrah, but this woman keeps clinging to him like a leech! If that’s not seduction, what is?”

“I’ve got a juicy scoop! This morning, I saw her walking out of the Jablonskis’ family villa. She definitely is the other woman! What a slut!”

“You filthy bitch! The Willoughbys took you in, and this is how you repay them? Seducing the real daughter’s fiancé? You deserve to be beaten to death!”

Covered in eggs and filth, Dionne screamed, “I didn’t plagiarize anything! I’m not a homewrecker either!”

Just then, the screen on the building across the street lit up, playing a video of the CEO.

“The artwork in question was indeed plagiarized by Dionne from her sister Farrah. But this is her first offense, so I hope the public can forgive her just this once.”

The words echoed like a death sentence.

In an instant, every word of defense Dionne had tried to utter collapsed into meaningless noise—she had no way to defend her name.

When she went back home, Larkin frowned at the state she was in.

“Why were those people so brutal? What happened to your hand? Did someone splash acid on you?”

For the first time ever, he looked genuinely concerned.

But Dionne just yanked her arm away and sneered, “Isn’t this exactly what you should’ve expected?”

She laughed bitterly. “You’re the one who publicly told the world I plagiarized Farrah.”

“I spent three years painting that piece, Larkin. Three years. The inspiration behind it came from my love for you. And you—” her voice cracked. “Did you feel no guilt at all, standing there on that screen and telling that lie?”

“Larkin.” Her gaze locked on him. “When you called me a plagiarist, did your heart ache even a little?”

Every word struck hard and Larkin’s fists clenched tighter and tighter.

But he tried to console her.

“I know you’ve been wronged, Dionne. But Farrah is the Willoughbys’ rightful daughter. She can’t let a scandal like plagiarism to stain her name.”

“Don’t worry. Just give it time,” he advised, trying to sound reassuring. “The internet will forget about all of this eventually. And with me supporting you, you don’t even need to go to work.”

“Dionne, I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his voice edged with a condition. “But tonight is Farrah’s award ceremony. It’s the most important moment of her life. I can’t miss it.”

He stepped toward the door then glanced back. “Stay home like a good girl, alright? I’ll come make it up to you later.”

With that, the door closed behind him.

Dionne sank to the floor, laughing and crying at the same time.

That was the man she had loved for so many years?!

With unsteady hands, she dialed Brixton’s number.

“Forget waiting a week,” she said. “I want you to come pick me up right now.”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation on the other end. “Alright.”

Half an hour later, Dionne placed the divorce papers and resignation letter right on the center of the dining table.

She took nothing but her ID, along with years’ worth of sketches.

Neither Larkin nor Farrah knew that each of her paintings had gone through hundreds of drafts.

Those drafts were enough to crush them both.

With that, she tossed away the keys to the villa and, without glancing back, she stepped outside.

On the runway nearby, the helicopter slowly landed.

Backlit by the sunset, Brixton walked toward her.

“I’m here to take you away, Dionne. Every injustice you’ve suffered… I’ll make sure they’ll pay for it.”