The Scorned Heiress’s Hidden Empire – “Get out!” David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Natalie Moore, we’ve done more than enough by raising you. Now you’re pulling this petty thievery?” “You’ve humiliated this entire Grant family!” “Honey, why even waste your breath on her?” Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust. “She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat.” Julia sneered, “If it wasn’t for the old lady’s deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn’t even be fit to step through our front door. “Now that our Isabelle is back, it’s time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!” Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn’t hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa. After a long silence, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read. “I didn’t take it,” she said. Her voice wasn’t loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up.
No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact. David was infuriated by her indifference. “Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?” “The evidence is right there, and you’re still lying!” “Just leave,” Julia snapped. “From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore.” The servants nearby began to whisper. “Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?” “Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn’t picked her up off the street, she’d be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal.” “You can’t even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon.” “Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash.” ***** Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights. Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance. Standing 5’7″, she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room.
Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie’s gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out. But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time. Natalie didn’t say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door. The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair. At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant. Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David’s. The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” His tone was arrogant and cold. Natalie didn’t even blink. She tried to walk past him, but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path. Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister. “Natalie,” she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie’s bag. “Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don’t take it to heart.” She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie’s arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. “I really don’t mind about the necklace.
Natalie, if you liked it that much…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint. Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle’s pure heart, while Natalie’s cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat. “Isabelle is trying to help you,” Michael growled. “Don’t be ungrateful. You messed up, own it.” Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. “Can you shake your brain until it’s level before you speak to me?” “You…” Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off. “Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!” Isabelle’s eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look. “It’s all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher’s birthday. If I hadn’t come home, none of this would be happening…” she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect. Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. “Don’t say that, Izzy. It’s not your fault some people are just rotten inside.” He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house.” Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle. “You know exactly who took it, don’t you?” “Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick.” Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door. She didn’t want to waste another breath on them.
It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn’t care less. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother Matilda’s sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago. It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her. She even took Matilda Moore’s last name. Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one’s fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university. That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years. Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter. ***** It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool. After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City. With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night. Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering. She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants. But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy.
Splash! A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water. Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn’t even tell what color it used to be. “Shit!” Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max. Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped: “You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour.” Natalie: “…” She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. “License plate P444…” Chapter 2 The Mitchells Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City. Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement. William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling. “Are you certain?” His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat. The man standing before the desk bowed. “Sir, we’ve double-checked everything,” he said firmly. “Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too.” He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph. “Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City.” A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture.
Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white. The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother. She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision. With a face like that, they didn’t even need a DNA test! “It’s her. This is my baby girl!” Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, “Why is she… why is she so thin?” William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms. The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group. He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news. Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing. He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before. But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal? And finally, it was. “Mom, don’t worry.