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Vengeance of the Vance Heiress Novel Cover

Vengeance of the Vance Heiress

On her third wedding anniversary, Serena discovers her husband Julian and the nanny she trusted built a counterfeit family to seize the Vance fortune. The devoted wife vanishes; a ruthless heiress takes her place, wielding an empire, razor intelligence, and buried evidence to dismantle everyone who betrayed her. Then Dominic Blackwood arrives—powerful, enigmatic, impossible to resist. Their forbidden pull unearths a devastating secret that could shatter her calculated war.
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Chapter 1

"Keep the engine running, Tom," I told my driver as I grabbed my leather overnight bag from the back seat.

"Are you sure, Mrs. Vance?" Tom asked, leaning over the center console. "I can carry that up to the door for you."

"No, thank you. I want this to be a surprise." I forced a smile, though a dull ache throbbed behind my eyes from the long flight. "Happy third anniversary to us. Go get yourself a coffee. I will text you if I need a ride back to the city later."

"Have a wonderful night, ma'am."

I pushed the heavy iron gate open and walked up the winding driveway of our estate. I had flown back from the Chicago business summit two days early. Julian thought I was stuck in endless board meetings until Friday. I wanted to see his face light up when I walked through the door. I wanted to celebrate three years of a perfect marriage.

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the grand foyer.

Silence.

"Julian?" I called out, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't wake anyone.

No answer.

Where was my husband? Where was our adopted son, Leo? Where was Elena, the young, energetic nanny I paid six figures a year to manage this household?

I dropped my bag by the sweeping mahogany staircase. I slipped my flats off my feet, leaving them neatly by the umbrella stand.

A muffled sound drifted down from the second floor. A rhythmic thud, followed by a sharp gasp.

My stomach tightened. Did someone break in?

I crept up the stairs, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The noise grew louder, anchoring itself to the master suite at the end of the hall. More specifically, my custom dressing room.

I approached the heavy oak door. It sat open just a fraction of an inch.

"Julian?" I whispered, but the word died on my tongue.

A sharp slap echoed from inside the room.

"Fuck, yes," a woman whimpered.

That was not my voice.

I pushed the door open a tiny bit more and peered through the narrow gap.

My vision tunneled. The hallway around me vanished.

Elena. My sweet, reliable nanny.

She was straddling my husband on the velvet ottoman in the center of the room.

She wore my clothes. My two-thousand-dollar La Perla silk nightgown bunched up around her waist, exposing her bare thighs.

"Fuck me harder, Julian," Elena groaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Julian gripped her hips. He thrust up into her, his face buried in her neck. "You like that? You like taking her spot?"

"I love it," Elena moaned, throwing her head back. "I love riding your cock in her house. In her clothes."

My knees turned to water. I slapped a hand over my mouth to trap the scream tearing up my throat.

Julian pulled back, his hands sliding up to cup Elena's breasts through the thin silk. He squeezed hard, his thumbs flicking roughly over her nipples. "You are so fucking wet for me. You always were."

"Give it to me," she begged, grinding down on his groin. "Fill my pussy, Julian. Fuck."

He slammed into her again. The velvet ottoman creaked loudly under their weight. "I am going to ruin you right here. Right where my stupid wife gets dressed every morning."

Bile rose in my throat. I refused to look away. I stood paralyzed in the shadows, forced to watch the man I loved desecrate our marriage.

Elena rode him faster, her breasts bouncing against the silk. "Is she going to call tonight?"

"Who cares?" Julian grunted, his hips snapping upward. "Send it to voicemail. I am busy fucking the mother of my child."

The world stopped spinning. The air left my lungs.

*The mother of my child.*

"Keep your voice down," Elena gasped, though she did not slow her grinding. "Leo might hear."

"Leo is fast asleep," Julian said. He reached down, parting the silk to rub his thumb directly over her clitoris. "Our boy is a heavy sleeper. Just like you."

Elena let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oh, fuck, right there. Do not stop."

"I am not stopping," he growled. "We earned this. Three years of pretending to love that frigid bitch."

Tears burned my eyes. I dug my nails into my own cheeks, praying I would wake up from this nightmare.

"She thinks she is so smart," Julian grunted, slapping Elena's thigh. "Running off to New York to play CEO. She handed me the keys to the kingdom."

"She really believes you love her," Elena laughed, a cruel, breathy sound. "The way she looks at you at the dinner table makes me sick."

"I never look at her," Julian said, his hips slapping loudly against Elena's. "I close my eyes and picture you. I picture your perfect pussy."

"Fuck yes, Julian. Tell me I am better than her."

"You are tighter. You are wetter. She just lies there like a dead fish. Fucking her is a chore."

My stomach churned. A chore. We had made love three days ago before my flight. He had kissed my forehead, told me I was his entire world. It was all a script.

Elena leaned forward, kissing him hard. "How much longer, Julian? I hate watching her play mommy to our son."

"Not much longer," Julian muttered, thrusting deep and holding it there. "The Vance family trust unlocks on her thirtieth birthday next month. Once I have control of the accounts, we take the money, we take Leo, and we leave Serena with absolutely nothing."

"You promise?" Elena whined, rolling her hips against him.

"I swear it," Julian said. "I am doing this for us. For our family."

My chest convulsed. My heart ripped straight down the middle.

Leo. My beautiful two-year-old boy. I had spent countless nights rocking him to sleep, kissing his forehead, believing he was a gift from the universe since my doctors told me I would struggle to conceive.

He was not an orphan. He was theirs.

They had planned this. Julian convinced me to adopt. He handled the agency, the paperwork, the lawyers. He brought his own biological son into my house and handed him to me. Then, he suggested we hire a live-in nanny to help. He interviewed Elena himself.

This entire marriage was a stage play. Julian had targeted the Vance fortune. He brought his lover into my home. He made me raise his bastard son.

"Did you wire the offshore funds?" Elena asked, panting heavily as she picked up the pace.

"Half a million," Julian said, his voice straining. "Straight from her personal checking. She never looks at the statements. Her accountant is on my payroll."

"Fuck, you are brilliant," Elena whispered. "Take it all, Julian. Bleed her dry."

"I am going to bleed the Vance empire dry, and then I am going to fuck you on a pile of her cash."

"Julian, I am close," Elena cried out, her body shuddering. "Fuck, I am cumming."

"Take my cock, Elena. Take it all," Julian roared, his back arching as he drove up into her one final time.

I staggered backward. My foot caught the edge of the hallway runner.

I stumbled, my shoulder hitting the wall with a soft thud. A framed photograph of our wedding day rattled against the plaster.

Inside the room, the heavy panting stopped instantly.

"Did you hear that?" Julian asked, his tone dropping an octave.

"Hear what?" Elena murmured.

"Someone is in the hallway."

Footsteps hit the hardwood floor inside the dressing room.

I scrambled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to run. I needed to hide.

"Hello?" Julian called out.

The brass doorknob slowly began to turn.

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