The Billionaire Heiress Chapter 1

As the sole daughter of the Vance family, my billion-dollar inheritance was shadowed by the agonizing memory of three childhood kidnappings. My father had surrounded me with a hundred bodyguards; even my school commute required three armored vehicles.

“Choose a husband,” he’d urged, “one who will protect you day and night.”

I chose Lucian Thorne, the one who seemed gentlest to me. Yet, on our wedding day, he dismissed all my bodyguards. I found myself tied to a rooftop, a kidnapper’s blade at my throat.

On the other end of the phone, Lucian’s voice was a cold sneer:

“Elara Vance, is this really necessary? You had thugs harass Seraphina Thorne. She’s the victim here. Who exactly is this little performance for?”

“All I did was assign your bodyguards to protect her 24/7, so you could finally get a taste of living in fear.”

I counted the chimes of the city clock from the rooftop. Each hour that passed, I lost another finger. Twenty-four hours later, my blood ran dry, and my heart died with it.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to choose a husband—my father’s hand still held those eight photographs. This time, my finger swept past Lucian Thorne’s image and landed squarely on the roguish, devil-may-care smile in the far corner.

But my father said, “That man is dead.”

* * *

I stared at the eight photographs in my father’s hand, my finger sweeping past Lucian Thorne’s gentle, almost ethereal face without a tremor, moving directly to the bottom corner, to that dark-skinned, rogue’s smile.

My father frowned. “Elara, I thought you liked Lucian Thorne best? Why choose Ryder Blackwood?”

I clenched my fingers so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Ryder Blackwood. A top athlete from childhood, but infamous in the D.C. elite scene as a notorious playboy. His skin was perpetually tanned, and he spent his days at racetracks and nightclubs, his female companions rotating more frequently than his designer clothes. My father despised him, having exiled him to a remote, far-flung project in Willow Creek just to get rid of him.

But I remembered. In my past life, tied to that rooftop, bleeding out drop by agonizing drop, the last image I saw before plunging was Ryder Blackwood, rushing toward me like a madman—his face contorted with terror and raw anguish.

“I’ll choose him,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

My father frowned, pulling out his phone to scroll through his contacts, but he paused, awkwardly—he didn’t even have Ryder Blackwood’s number saved. How ironic. These eight men were all his adopted “sons,” yet Ryder Blackwood didn’t even merit a contact entry.

His chief assistant quickly called back. “Mr. Vance, Ryder Blackwood met with an accident last month in Willow Creek. A mudslide.”

My father sighed. “Elara, choose someone else. Lucian Thorne is actually…”

“No. I’m not choosing anyone else.” I stood up abruptly, my throat tight. “Besides him, I want no one.” In my past life, those so-called “brothers” either fawned over Lucian Thorne’s cousin or coldly laughed at my misfortune. Reborn, I’d rather be alone forever than be stabbed by that false tenderness again.

I walked out of the office in a daze, Ryder Blackwood’s final expression burned into my mind. If even he was dead, who else in this world would fight for me to the death?

Suddenly, a cold hand clamped onto my wrist. I looked up. It was Lucian Thorne. Seraphina Thorne was leaning against him, her slender body subtly trembling, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she’d endured the greatest injustice. Lucian Thorne’s expression was gentle, but his tone was stiff.

“Elara, Seraphina isn’t well. Your hot springs resort is empty anyway; let her go there to recuperate for a few days. She’s been having trouble sleeping and coughing a lot lately.”

In my past life, I would have softened and agreed instantly. But now, I simply gave them a cold look. “I don’t agree.” With that, I directly called my assistant. “Lock the resort gates. Don’t let any riff-raff slip in.”

Lucian Thorne’s face changed instantly. “Elara!” He gripped my wrist roughly, his hold painfully tight. “She’s my cousin. She’ll be family someday. Can’t you be reasonable?”

I scoffed, sharply yanking my hand free. “Who among you is family to me?”

His pupils constricted, as if stung. “What’s gotten into you? Just because Seraphina wore your hair clip last time? You have rooms full of jewelry. What’s wrong with letting her borrow one?”

Seraphina chose that moment to sob, tears clinging to her lashes. “Lucian, it’s alright… Miss Vance looks down on me. I’m not worthy anyway…”

I couldn’t be bothered to watch their charade any longer. I turned and walked away. “I said no, and that’s final.”

Back in my room, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep. The dizzying sensation of rebirth still churned, until a jarring phone ring jolted me awake.

“Miss Vance!” My assistant’s voice was tearful. “Mr. Thorne brought Miss Thorne into the resort! I couldn’t stop them. The bodyguards all listened to him!”

I shot upright. Images of my past kidnapping flashed before my eyes—the very bodyguards who were supposed to protect me had just as readily followed Lucian Thorne, abandoning me to my captors.

Rushing into the resort, one bodyguard dared to block my path. “Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne instructed that no one is to disturb them.”

SLAP! I lashed out, my palm connecting sharply with his face, my body trembling with rage. “You eat my food, but you listen to others? Get out of my sight, now!”

The moment I pushed open the inner chamber door, the sight before me made my blood run cold.