The Hidden Heiress's Revenge

Selena's POV

The television blared in my dingy little room.

"...Today marks the highly anticipated union of Eastbridge's golden couple, Olivia Ashford and Mateo Blackwood. The ceremony is currently underway at the HMP Grand Hotel, with several political elites, celebrities, and business moguls in attendance..."

I didn't flinch. My eyes, dulled from exhaustion but edged with steel, stayed fixed on the screen.

Mateo.

My ex-boyfriend. The man who swore he'd wait for me.

And Olivia. My sister.

I reached for the remote and clicked off the TV. The room fell into suffocating silence. My fists curled tightly in my lap.

Four years ago, I'd been nineteen. Naive. In love. And willing to sacrifice everything.

"Selena," Mateo had said in that cold, soulless interrogation room, his hands cupping mine like a lover's, his voice trembling as if he actually cared. "You know Olivia can't survive this. She's just getting her big break. If the public finds out she was driving drunk, her career's over. The media will crucify her. No director will cast her again."

He'd leaned closer, eyes pleading. "And her heart... you know how fragile it is. Stress could trigger another episode. You're stronger, Selena. Take the blame. It's just four years in prison. When you're out... I swear, I'll marry you."

I believed him.

How could I not?

He was the boy I'd known since childhood, the one I loved before I even understood what love meant.

So, I took the fall for Olivia.

Who would've thought it was all a lie?

The moment I stepped into that prison cell, Mateo stepped into Olivia's arms.

The man I loved and the sister I protected, engaged within months.

And now, today, they were celebrating their wedding in grand spectacle. Together, they turned me into a joke. A stain on the Ashford name. A public disgrace.

A sharp knock hit the door, but before I could move, it burst open with a loud slam, crashing against the wall like my privacy was worthless.

"Selena," Luca barked. "What the hell are you doing still dressed like this? Your sister's wedding is starting."

I looked up slowly from my chair, letting a smirk touch my lips. "And?"

There was a flicker in his eyes. Surprise.

He hadn't expected the bite in my tone.

This wasn't the same girl who used to flinch at the sound of his anger. This wasn't the Selena who used to beg for a scrap of his affection.

"You're not going?" he asked, stepping into the room.

"No."

"Don't be ridiculous. What will people say if you're not there?"

"I don't care." I leaned back on the creaky bed, my body sinking into the sagging mattress.

His jaw twitched, and I could see the tension working its way into his shoulders. "So it's jealousy? You think Olivia stole your man?"

I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Mateo was never mine, apparently. But no, I'm not going. I don't owe any of you anything."

In two strides, Luca crossed the room and yanked the blanket off my bed. His fingers clamped around my arm.

"You're pathetic," he hissed. "You know how much it means to your sister that you show up."

"It's always about Olivia," I said, my voice like ice. "Ever since you found her..."

Olivia. The long-lost, fragile little girl who came back into our lives five years ago.

She was their biological daughter.

I'd lived in this house for as long as I could remember, raised like a daughter. Or so I thought.

Then Olivia came back, rescued from a rundown orphanage, sickly and pale, looking like a breath might break her.

And to the Ashfords, she was perfect.

The moment she stepped through that door, everything shifted. Their love. Their loyalty. Their attention. All gone and redirected towards her.

It didn't matter that I had been there all along. That I was the one they raised. The one who called them Mom and Dad. Suddenly, I was a guest.

No, worse. A burden.

My mother moved me out of my bedroom without hesitation. "Olivia needs space," she'd said. And so, I was relocated to the poultry house. A glorified shed, where I slept beside clucking hens and the stench of chicken droppings.

I gave up my room for Olivia. And more than that.

I remembered working double shifts to cover Luca's failed business venture. Selling my violin, my father's last gift, to buy Olivia's medication. Giving up my university offer to help run the company during a scandal. Lying to the press to protect my mother from a corruption charge.

I gave everything.

And now, I was nothing.

Not even a guest at the family table.

"Will Olivia die if I don't come?" I asked, the words sharp as I fought through the rattle in my chest.

A hard cough erupted from deep within me, ripping through my lungs.

Since my release from prison, the diagnosis was clear: I had chronic bronchitis, a lingering punishment from the years I spent breathing in the moldy, damp air of the prison's worst block. A block they deliberately moved me to.

Luca didn't answer. He just grabbed my wrist and started dragging me toward the bathroom.

I stumbled, my legs unsteady. My body was worn thin from months of backbreaking work. Since my parole ended, I'd refused to take even a cent from the Ashfords. I scrubbed motel floors and cleaned toilets ten hours a day for minimum wage, enduring the side-eyes and whispers from strangers who recognized my name.

The room I called mine now? A shed with a thin mattress on the floor, no windows, no working bulb. No dignity.

Luca shoved me toward the sink, and pain shot up my leg, a sharp reminder of a prison beating that never fully healed.

I turned to face him, my voice low. "I'm done pretending. You're not my brother anymore."

His nostrils flared. Rage flickered in his eyes.

"You will show up at that wedding, Selena. If you don't walk in, I'll drag you in. Naked if I have to."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the cracked mirror above the sink. The reflection that stared back at me wasn't someone I recognized anymore.

I had given them everything. One day, they'll beg to be forgiven. I won't be so merciful.