The Masked Heiress: Don't Mess With Her

The Roberts family's villa in Eighfast hummed with an uneasy stillness, only to be broken by the echo of approaching footsteps.

"Yelena, back so soon?" Sonya Roberts leaned against the doorframe, a smug smile painted on her lips. "Brett White may be older, but he's everything a woman could want-rich, influential, and dependable. You should be honored to have such a chance to be his wife."

Yelena Roberts' expression hardened.

Before Sonya could react, Yelena surged forward, her palm colliding sharply with Sonya's cheek. The crack of the slap rang through the room, slicing through Sonya's arrogance.

"Why don't you take this 'chance' for yourself, Sonya?" Yelena's voice cut like a blade, her eyes narrowed with scorn. "You spiked my drink, didn't you?"

Sonya clutched her stinging cheek, her confidence crumbling into a strangled gasp, as the fierce red imprint of Yelena's fingers seared into her skin.

"Yelena! You insolent girl! Have you gone mad?" Tatiana Roberts stormed forward, her face twisted in rage and disbelief as she glared daggers at Yelena. "How dare you hit Sonya?"

What an ungrateful wretch!

After all, Yelena wasn't even a Roberts.

Three months ago, a trip to the hospital changed everything. Yelena had been admitted for an injury, and what should have been a routine blood test cracked her world wide open.

Her rare blood type didn't match Jonathan Roberts or his wife-her supposed parents. The revelation shattered the once happy family of three-Yelena wasn't their real daughter.

Desperate to restore balance, the Roberts family launched an exhaustive search for their true daughter. They found her in Sonya, a woman who slid seamlessly into the life that had never been meant for Yelena.

From that day on, Yelena became a ghost in her own home, a usurper unwittingly basking in luxuries meant for Sonya. What was once hers was now declared an injustice, an insult to Sonya's rightful claim.

Jonathan and Tatiana needed to make amends with their newfound daughter.

But simply cutting Yelena loose? That seemed wasteful. Brett White, a wealthy associate, had expressed a certain infatuation with Yelena. If they played their cards right, marrying her off would guarantee a five-million-dollar payoff.

So, they hatched a sinister plan.

A drugged drink. A room prepared for betrayal. They intended to hand her over like a pawn, signed and sealed.

Yelena, however, had shattered their scheme, slipping away from their clutches in the nick of time.

She turned to Tatiana, defiant and composed, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

"She drugged me, ridiculed me, and treated me like I was nothing. So tell me, don't you think that slap was well-deserved?"

Sonya's face fell, her lips trembling before she plastered on a look of false hurt. "I was thinking of your future," she replied, her voice sickly sweet. "Mother told me your real family was from a poor village. Marrying Mr. White would elevate your entire existence. Surely, that's a blessing."

Yet behind her feigned innocence, Sonya seethed. How dare Yelena strike her?

Retribution would come. Soon.

"If marrying into wealth is such a blessing, why not seize it yourself?" Yelena's voice dripped with ice as her narrowed eyes pierced straight through Sonya and Tatiana.

"You ungrateful girl!" Tatiana's voice was a whip crack of fury, her eyes blazing. "How dare you even think to measure yourself against Sonya? She is leagues above you! Sonya is already engaged to Roger Ellis, heir to the prestigious Ellis family. A union that befits her status!"

Sonya stepped forward, her smile syrupy sweet, but her eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's right, Yelena. Roger told me I'm his one true love, the only one he could ever imagine by his side."

The reality of it all hung in the air like a suffocating fog. Yelena had been Roger's fiancee first, a plan set in motion long before Sonya's existence was uncovered. But the moment Yelena's parentage unraveled, so did her engagement. Sonya stepped into her place as effortlessly as one might slip on a perfectly tailored gown.

Even Roger had seemed eager to make the swap, his affections pivoting to Sonya with startling ease.

Sonya's gaze lingered on Yelena, scanning her like a predator assessing prey. The softness of her features, her luminous skin, the poised elegance that seemed intrinsic to her-Sonya hated it. Envy coiled in her chest, venomous and bitter, but she masked it behind her well-practiced smile.

"Relax, Sonya. I wouldn't touch Roger with a ten-foot pole. You two are perfect for each other-a match so unfortunate it's almost poetic. Just be sure to keep your theatrics to yourselves. The rest of us don't need the headache." Yelena's lips curved into a slow, disdainful smirk.

Jonathan, sensing the tension reaching a breaking point, finally stepped in. "Yelena, this is for your benefit. We found you a suitable match, someone who can secure your future. But if you insist on refusing, then so be it. Perhaps it's time you sought out your biological parents." Despite knowing the depths of Tatiana and Sonya's scheming, Jonathan didn't even try to stop them.

He understood their actions were wrong, yet the undeniable truth of Yelena's origins left no room for her to remain with the Roberts family.

With a resigned sigh, Jonathan pulled out an envelope containing ten thousand dollars and held it out to her.

"Take this. It's the least we can do. We mistakenly brought you here from Phurg, and we believe your real parents are still there."

Phurg-a desolate and impoverished region, surviving only on the charity of corporations-was a stark reminder of how far removed Yelena was from the life she had known.

Tatiana scoffed, crossing her arms. "Jonathan, are you serious? We raised her for more than a decade. We owe her nothing. And now you're handing her money after she had the audacity to strike Sonya? She's nothing but an ungrateful little parasite."

Ungrateful?

Yelena let out a bitter, mirthless laugh, her cold chuckle slicing through the air.

Their eagerness to discard her so easily, as if she were an old trinket they no longer wanted, struck her deeper than she cared to admit. When she first found out that she wasn't their biological child, she had considered leaving them with a significant parting gift, a sum of money to ensure their security. But now? That notion felt laughable.

Jonathan lacked the skills to manage a business, and Tatiana was little more than a glorified spender, bleeding their resources dry. If it weren't for Yelena's behind-the-scenes efforts, the Roberts Group would have collapsed long ago.

Her eyes hardened as she straightened her posture.

"Thank you for the gesture, Mr. Roberts, but that won't be necessary," she said, her voice calm and resolute.

Without waiting for a response, Yelena turned on her heel and ascended the staircase to pack her belongings.

Sonya hastily ran after Yelena.

When Yelena returned downstairs, her figure was composed, carrying nothing but a worn black bag slung over her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable, but her posture radiated defiance.

Sonya trailed after her, her face a mask of false concern. "Wait, Yelena! Don't be so hasty. These clothes are practically new-you really should take them. I mean, I heard your real family is... well, struggling," she said.

With a calculated flourish, Sonya reached out and grabbed Yelena's bag.

The loud clatter of its contents scattering onto the marble floor seized everyone's attention.

Amid the mundane items lay a gleaming Chanel bracelet, its brilliance catching the light like a beacon.

Sonya let out an exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her chest. "This... this is the bracelet Dad gave me just last week! How could it end up in your bag?"

Yelena's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.

So this was Sonya's plan-a final attempt to humiliate Yelena.

She glanced at Sonya, her eyes sharp as daggers. If Sonya wanted a show, she'd give her one.

"How could you, Yelena?" Tatiana shrieked, her voice trembling with outrage. "Stealing from the very people who raised you? After everything we've done for you? No wonder you turned down the ten thousand dollars-you've already helped yourself to something far more valuable! A thief within the family is the ultimate disgrace!"

Jonathan's frown deepened into a stormy scowl. He stepped forward, his voice low and foreboding. "Yelena, explain yourself. Why did the bracelet I gave to Sonya end up in your bag?"

"Jonathan! She's nothing but a thief!" Tatiana's voice cracked with urgency, her frustration boiling over. "We should call the police immediately!"

Sonya, ever the picture of contrived benevolence, stepped forward with a sigh. "Dad, Mom, let's not jump to conclusions. Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. Maybe Yelena put the bracelet in her bag without even realizing it. I'm sure she didn't mean to."

"What? She didn't meant to? Are you seriously trying to tell me that the bracelet just happened to fall into her bag? This isn't just some trinket-it's an original design by Yvonne, a true masterpiece. Irreplaceable. Yelena knew exactly what it was worth. Her greed is written all over her. It's exactly as I feared! No matter how long we raised her, we can't change her nature."

Tatiana's words lashed out like a whip, dripping with contempt.

"Mom, really, let it go," Sonya chimed in, her tone soft, almost pitying. She turned to Yelena with a sigh, her lips curving into a faintly sympathetic smile. "If she loves it so much, let her keep it. It's not like we'll see her again anyway. Though I can't deny, this bracelet has always been special to me. Yvonne is my idol, and her designs mean the world to me."

Yelena watched their performance in silence, her expression unreadable. Each line, each gesture, was delivered with the precision of seasoned actors.

If they ever decided to give up their privileged lives, they could make a fortune in the theater. The absurdity of it all almost made her laugh.

Calmly, she bent down and picked up the bracelet, letting its brilliance glint in the light. Without a word, she approached Sonya, holding the clasp up to her face. "Take a good look," Yelena said, her voice cool and composed. "Read what's engraved here."

Sonya's smile wavered, her confidence slipping as she hesitated. Narrowing her eyes, she leaned in, her gaze falling on the inscription. The elegant engraving stood out clearly-Y.R.

"How... how could this be?" Sonya stammered, her voice faltering as her shock momentarily slipped through her polished exterior.

"Aren't you a devoted fan of Yvonne's work, Sonya? Surely, you're aware that this series was designed with the option for custom engravings-each bracelet made unique to its owner. Not only that, but as a limited edition, every single piece is registered with an identification code. One-of-a-kind, impossible to duplicate." Yelena's lips curled into a wry smile. Her tone, calm yet laced with cutting mockery, was a blade honed to perfection.

Before Sonya could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence. A servant descended the staircase, clutching another bracelet in her hand.

"Miss Roberts, is this the bracelet you've been searching for?"

The room fell into stunned silence, all eyes locking onto the bracelet in the servant's hand.

Sonya, recovering quickly, plastered on a strained smile and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Oh, there it is! I can't believe it was here all along. How silly of me!"

Her voice dripped with forced cheer, but her mind raced, panic bubbling just beneath the surface. What happened? She had been certain she'd slipped the bracelet into Yelena's bag.

Yelena's icy gaze fixed on Sonya, the corners of her lips tugging into a cool, condescending smirk. "Well, Sonya, do you still think I stole your precious bracelet? Are you sure you want to get the police involved?"

Sonya's composure wavered for a split second before she replied, "This bracelet is worth a small fortune. Tell me, Yelena, how could you possibly afford something like this? Unless..." She paused, her smile twisting into something uglier. "Unless you resorted to something less... honorable. After all, some girls these days will do anything for the right price."

Yelena's smile sharpened into a blade, her eyes glinting with icy disdain. "You seem awfully knowledgeable about that line of work, Sonya. Tell me-was it firsthand experience that taught you how these trades operate? Did you sell yourself before rejoining the Roberts family? Is that why you're so well-versed in the details?"

Sonya's face burned crimson, her mouth opening and closing in sputtering outrage. "You... you're making baseless accusations!"

"Yelena, you insolent brat!" Tatiana roared, her face contorted in rage as she slammed her fist against the armrest. "How dare you speak to Sonya like that? Get out of this house! Out of this family! And don't ever come back!"

Yelena's smile grew sharper, radiant with defiance. Her eyes glittered with icy resolve. "Beg me on your knees, and still, I wouldn't step foot in this place again," she said, her voice as smooth as steel.

Turning on her heel, she slung her worn black bag over her shoulder and strode toward the door. She didn't hesitate, didn't look back. For her, the Roberts family and their hollow pretenses were already a closed chapter. She felt no sadness, only relief. The charade was over.

"Good riddance!" Tatiana sneered behind her, venom dripping from her words.

She slumped into her seat, exhaling deeply, her lips curling into a smile of satisfaction. In her mind, the family was finally rid of an unwelcome burden.

Yelena walked out into the crisp evening air, the villa shrinking behind her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she answered it without breaking stride.

"Yelena, I heard that they kicked you out?" Brody Hewitt's voice was sharp, brimming with agitation.

"They did," Yelena replied evenly, her tone calm but resolute.

There was a pause, and then Brody's voice hardened.

"Those people are absolutely shameless!" Brody's voice crackled through the phone, brimming with indignation. "They're the definition of fair-weather friends. Without you, Jonathan Roberts would still be floundering in obscurity. They don't even realize that you were the reason for their success..."

"That's enough," Yelena cut in, her voice calm but firm. "Any updates on my biological parents?"

Jonathan had claimed it was a mistake at the hospital, a mix-up rather than an intentional act of abandonment. That distinction lingered in Yelena's mind, fueling her determination to find her family.

Brody exhaled audibly, reining in his frustration. "Yes, the search is in progress. We should have concrete results soon."

"Good," Yelena replied crisply, ending the call without another word.

As she approached the main road, a sharp, metallic scent drifted on the cold breeze, cutting through the night air.

She stopped mid-step, her brows furrowing as unease prickled at the back of her neck.

A figure emerged from the shadows, staggering toward her. His white shirt was soaked in blood, the crimson staining his chest and hands. Each step he took seemed heavier than the last, his strength visibly waning.

"Stop running, coward! Accept your fate!" a menacing voice shouted from behind him.

Yelena's gaze darted to the source of the commotion. A group of men, dressed in black, stalked after the injured man like predators closing in on their prey. Their movements were deliberate, their intent clear.

The injured man-Austin Barton-paused, swaying but defiant. His face was pallid, his breaths shallow, yet his voice held steel. "Who are you working for?"

"Shut it! We're done talking." The man then turned to his group. "Let's finish him off already."

"Wait." Another man halted abruptly, his gaze shifting to the side. "There's someone else here."

Yelena froze as all eyes turned to her.

Her heart sank. Perfect. Just perfect. Today had been a series of escalating disasters, and now this.

It was painfully clear these men had no intention of leaving witnesses behind.

The cause of her predicament stood before her-the bloodied man staggering in her direction.

The leader of the group, a hulking figure with a cruel smirk, stepped forward. His eyes roamed over her, lingering too long, and his lips curled into something predatory.

The men around him chuckled darkly, their laughter carrying an undercurrent of vile intent.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," one of the men sneered, his tone mocking as his gaze lingered on her. "Once we deal with this guy, we'll take real good care of you. Whatever your pretty little heart desires-it'll all be yours."

Yelena didn't flinch. Her eyes, cold and unyielding, met his with an intensity that froze the air between them. She uttered a single word, her voice low and commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Leave."

The men exchanged amused glances, still jeering, but their laughter faltered when they caught a glint of silver in the dim light.

In her hand, a set of long, sleek needles shimmered, their tips sharp and unyielding.

Yelena's lips curled into a mocking smile, her gaze sharpening into something lethal. Before any of them could process the shift in her stance, she moved. With fluid precision, her arm arced through the air, the needles slicing through the darkness like streaks of light.

Each one found its mark with unerring accuracy-throats, shoulders, legs-their targets incapacitated before a single cry could escape their lips.

One by one, the men crumpled to the ground, their weapons slipping from their hands. Their jeering confidence dissolved into stunned silence as realization dawned far too late.

Austin, still struggling to stay upright, stared at the scene in wide-eyed disbelief.

Who was this woman?

Her movements had been precise, calculated-far beyond anything he had ever witnessed. She wasn't just skilled. She was extraordinary!

Yelena cast a cursory glance at the men sprawled on the ground before shifting her gaze to the injured man.

His sharp features were striking-eyes dark and cold, his expression distant and stoic, as if carved from stone.

Despite his pallor and obvious pain, he exuded an air of quiet resilience.

She had every intention of walking away, leaving this chaotic scene behind her. Yet something in her hesitated. One of her weaknesses-her soft-heartedness-held her back.

With a resigned sigh, she knelt beside the man and examined his wounds.

"Thank you," Austin said, his voice low but carrying a sincere note of gratitude.

"It's nothing," she replied, her tone detached, though her actions suggested otherwise.

As she checked his pulse, her brows knitted together.

The bleeding, while severe, wasn't the most pressing concern. His pulse was weak and erratic-a telltale sign of poison coursing through his veins.

Yelena opened her bag and retrieved a small porcelain bottle. Uncorking it, she sprinkled a fine medicinal powder over his bleeding wounds. Almost instantly, the bleeding slowed, and a soothing coolness replaced the sting of pain.

She then produced a small pill and handed it to him, her voice steady.

"Take this. It will counteract the poison. Without timely treatment, you won't make it much longer," Yelena said, her tone cool and matter-of-fact.

Austin hesitated, his sharp eyes studying her as if trying to gauge her intentions.

Yelena continued her work, efficiently bandaging his wounds. Just as she finished, the sound of footsteps reached them. She turned her head to see another group of people approaching. "Mr. Barton..."

"They're with me," Austin said, exhaling in relief. His shoulders relaxed slightly, his posture easing.

Yelena stood up. "Since your men are here now, I'll be on my way," she said briskly, already turning to leave.

"Miss," Austin called after her, his tone softer now. "At least tell me your name, so I can repay your kindness."

"That won't be necessary," Yelena replied curtly, her voice cool but final.

Before he could utter another word, she was already gone. Trouble was a luxury she couldn't afford.

After being saved, Austin's sharp gaze lingered on her retreating figure, a spark of intrigue lighting up his otherwise steely expression.

How had she pinpointed the poison merely by taking his pulse?

Her precision, her unshaken calm, and her evident expertise-it all defied belief.

One thing was certain though-as long as she remained in Eighfast, he would find her again.

Yelena walked away without a glance behind her, her focus already shifting to the next step in her journey.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft hum of an approaching car. A sleek, custom-built extended Rolls-Royce rolled to a stop in front of her, its polished exterior gleaming even under the dim streetlights. Yelena froze momentarily, as she'd only ever seen such extravagance in magazines and on television.

The door opened with precise smoothness, and a middle-aged man stepped out. His movements were deliberate, his posture immaculate, and his expression carried a quiet reverence. "Miss Harris, we've finally found you! I am Sebastian Holden, the Harris family's butler. At the request of Mr. and Mrs. Harris, I am here to escort you home."

"Me? Miss Harris?" Yelena asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. What was he talking about?

The Roberts family had mentioned her biological parents were impoverished villagers from the remote region of Phurg.

Yet here stood a man whose demeanor and the car he emerged from spoke of nothing but wealth and privilege.

"Yes, you!" Sebastian confirmed, his tone measured yet warm. "You are the eldest daughter of the Harris family. Your mother got emotional and almost fainted when she learned of your existence, and your father instructed me to personally ensure your safe return. Please, come with me."

Sebastian, his expression composed yet filled with deference, stepped forward and held the car door open for her.

Yelena's mind raced. Could the Roberts family's investigation have been wrong-or deliberately misleading?

Her bewilderment gave way to resolve. She had always intended to find her biological parents. If someone had come to take her to them, why hesitate?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the car. The door clicked shut with a reassuring softness, and the vehicle glided away from the curb.

The Elite Villas was the pinnacle of prestige in Eighfast, an exclusive enclave of just twelve luxurious residences, each home to the city's most powerful and influential figures.

As the car glided through the winding private roads leading to the exclusive villa district, Sebastian's voice brimmed with reverent enthusiasm. "Miss Harris, you have an older brother, Cayson Harris, and a younger adopted sister, Bella Harris. Your parents have missed you deeply. For years, they've scoured the country, sparing no effort to find you."

He paused, his tone softening as he continued. "Mr. Harris' roots are in Phurg. Decades ago, he and Mrs. Harris returned there to pay respects to their ancestors. It was during that trip that you were born in a local hospital. But tragedy struck-circumstances beyond their control led to your disappearance shortly after birth. Mr. Harris searched tirelessly, but when the trail ran cold, they were forced to return to Eighfast. Though their hearts were broken, they buried their grief and channeled their energy into building their legacy."

A flicker of pride entered his voice. "And what a legacy it is! Over the years, the Harris family has created an empire, becoming the wealthiest family in Eighfast. Their achievements are remarkable, but they never stopped hoping to bring you home."

Yelena remained silent, her mind swirling as Sebastian's words unearthed pieces of a past she had never known.

Soon, the car slowed, pulling up to a sprawling villa that seemed to rise out of the landscape like a vision.

As the door opened, Yelena stepped out, her gaze sweeping over the scene. Two figures emerged from the grand entrance, their faces illuminated by emotions too profound to be hidden.

The man carried himself with a refined air, his sharp features softened by an understated grace. Beside him, the woman exuded elegance, her every movement deliberate, her poise unmistakable.

The moment Donna Harris laid eyes on Yelena, her composure dissolved. Tears welled up as she rushed forward, enveloping Yelena in a fierce, heartfelt embrace. "Yelena, my dearest daughter," Donna whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "We've found you at last. All these years... the pain you must have endured. It's our fault. We failed to protect you."

As she held Yelena close, Donna's gaze swept over her face, struck by the undeniable resemblance. In that instant, Donna silently vowed that her daughter would never again suffer the hardships she had faced.

Yelena stiffened, unaccustomed to such an outpouring of affection. The weight of Donna's embrace felt foreign, almost overwhelming. But there was something in the raw, unfiltered warmth that slowly began to chip away at her defenses, leaving her still but no longer tense.

"I'm fine, really," Yelena murmured, the words more of a balm for Donna's emotions than a reflection of her own.

Donna reluctantly pulled away, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Yelena, I promise you this: from now on, nothing and no one will ever hurt you again."

Callum Harris stood nearby, his usual composed demeanor betrayed by the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "You're home now, Yelena. That's all that matters. Come-let's go inside."

The three of them stepped into the villa.

Standing just inside the doorway, Bella watched the reunion unfold, her gaze lowered as a flicker of coldness flashed briefly in her eyes before she masked it.

Composing herself quickly, Bella plastered on a polite smile, though a slight tremor betrayed her effort. "Yelena, welcome home," she said, her voice carefully measured. "I'm Bella."

The moment Bella saw Yelena, the uncanny resemblance between her and Donna told Bella everything she needed to know-Yelena was definitely a Harris.

As Bella's eyes briefly flicked to Yelena's face, there was something there-a flicker of resentment.

Donna, regaining her composure, took over the introductions with a warm smile. "Yelena, this is Bella, our adopted daughter. From now on, she's your younger sister. Your brother, Cayson, is overseas on business, but he'll be back soon. And your grandmother is on a retreat and will be returning at the end of the month."

Yelena nodded subtly, her expression calm but inscrutable. A family of this stature was bound to come with tangled relationships and hidden agendas-she was under no illusions about that. Quietly, she resolved to have Brody delve deeper into the Harris family's history when the moment allowed.

"Oh, Yelena, there's something I've been meaning to give you," Donna said suddenly, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. With practiced elegance, Donna unfastened an emerald bracelet from her wrist.

"This bracelet has always been with me, and now I want you to have it."

Donna could not quite recall the details, but she knew it had been given to her by someone significant, and she had cherished it ever since.

Yelena hesitated, the weight of the moment catching her off guard. The bracelet wasn't just beautiful-it was easily worth millions. Its value wasn't lost on her.

"This is too much," she murmured, her voice cautious. "I can't accept something so precious."

"Dear, everything I have will one day be yours. This is only a token of what's to come."

Before Yelena could protest again, the bracelet was already secured around her wrist. The vibrant emerald stood out against her skin, its brilliance almost overwhelming.

From across the room, Bella's smile froze in place. Her fingers twitched before curling into tight fists, her nails biting into her palms until the sting blurred into numbness.

How blatantly unfair!