The Ruined Heiress Returns With His Heirs

Angelena's shoulder slammed hard against the textured wallpaper of the hotel corridor.

Her vision swam. The heavy, gold-leafed patterns on the walls blurred into dark, dizzying streaks. She bit down on her lower lip, tasting the sharp, metallic tang of her own blood. The sudden pain sent a brief, desperate shock of clarity to her drug-addled brain.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. The static crackle of a walkie-talkie hissed in the quiet corridor.

"Find her. She couldn't have gone far."

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, erratic rhythm that made it hard to breathe. Her skin burned. A terrifying, unnatural heat was spreading through her veins, melting away her rationality.

She stumbled forward, her trembling hands dragging along the wall until she hit the cold, polished wood of a double door. It was slightly ajar.

Without thinking, Angelena pushed through the gap. She fell into the pitch-black entryway of the presidential suite. She scrambled to her knees, reached up, and slammed the heavy door shut, twisting the deadbolt until it clicked.

Her body gave out. She collapsed onto the thick carpet, her chest heaving.

Outside, a fist pounded against the wood.

"Open up!" a rough voice cursed.

Angelena clamped both hands over her mouth, suppressing a whimper. The drug was taking over completely now. Her breathing turned shallow and hot. Her fingertips felt numb.

"Who are you?"

The voice came from the darkness. It was low, freezing cold, and dripping with authority.

Angelena gasped, her head snapping up. Through the faint, silvery moonlight spilling from the floor-to-ceiling windows, she saw the towering silhouette of a man.

He stepped closer. The sheer physical pressure radiating from him made the air in the room feel suffocatingly thin. Angelena tried to scramble backward, but her limbs felt like lead.

Driven by pure survival instinct, her hand shot out. She grabbed the crisp fabric of his suit trousers.

"Help... me," she choked out.

The man stopped. He suffered from severe insomnia, and his patience was non-existent. He let out a low scoff of disgust. He bent down, his large, calloused fingers gripping her chin, fully intending to drag her out of his suite.

But the moment his skin touched hers, he froze.

She was burning up. And beneath the heat, a faint, incredibly unique medicinal fragrance drifted from her skin. It was a scent that instantly pierced through his raging headache, bringing a bizarre, sudden wave of calm to his frayed nerves.

The drug in Angelena's system reached its peak. She lost her mind.

Her arms flew up, wrapping tightly around the man's neck. She pulled herself against his solid chest, seeking relief from the fire consuming her.

The man's breath hitched. His initial resistance crumbled under the overwhelming assault of that soothing scent and her desperate heat.

Outside the window, a massive crack of thunder shook the glass. Lightning illuminated the room for a split second. They fell backward onto the massive velvet bed.

Pain tore through Angelena. A single, humiliating tear slipped from the corner of her eye, soaking into the dark sheets before the darkness finally swallowed her whole.

Blinding morning sunlight stabbed through the gap in the curtains, hitting Angelena straight in the eyes.

She woke up with a violent start. Her head throbbed as if it had been split open. Every muscle in her body ached, a crushing soreness that made her stomach churn.

She sat up, clutching the white duvet tightly to her chest.

The other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cold. The stranger who had taken her innocence was gone.

Before she could process the horror, the electronic lock on the door beeped.

Angelena's head snapped toward the sound. The heavy door swung open. A tidal wave of people surged into the bedroom.

The blinding flash of cameras erupted like strobe lights.

Angelena let out a sharp gasp, diving under the duvet to cover her face. The aggressive clicking of shutters and the high-pitched shouts of reporters filled the room, deafening her.

"Ms. Beasley! Is it true you sold yourself for money?"

"Look at this mess!"

The crowd parted slightly. Dara Schneider, her cousin, stepped forward in a pair of six-inch heels. A triumphant, vicious smirk played on Dara's lips before she quickly morphed her expression into one of exaggerated horror.

"Angelena!" Dara gasped, covering her mouth. "How could you? In a place like this?"

Arleen Schaefer, Angelena's supposed best friend, stepped up right behind Dara. She pointed a trembling finger at the bed. "I can't believe this. You were so desperate for money you'd sleep with some disgusting old man? You make me sick!"

Angelena's blood turned to ice. The betrayal hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. She lowered the duvet just enough to glare at the two women. Her hands shook violently.

"Arleen," Angelena's voice was hoarse, scraping her throat. She pointed a trembling finger at her so-called best friend. "What did you put in my drink last night?"

Arleen's eyes darted away. She took a quick step back.

Dara immediately stepped in front of Arleen, blocking Angelena's view. "Don't you dare blame your slutty behavior on your friends!" Dara yelled, making sure the reporters caught every word. "You did this to yourself!"

The camera lenses were practically shoved into Angelena's face. The invasion was suffocating. The anger boiling in her chest reached a breaking point.

Ignoring the risk of exposing herself, Angelena grabbed a heavy pillow and hurled it violently at the nearest camera lens. The photographer stumbled back with a curse.

Dara took advantage of the chaos. She leaned in close, her face inches from Angelena's ear.

"This is what happens when you try to fight me for the family trust fund, Angel," Dara whispered, her voice dripping with pure venom. "I arranged every second of this. You're finished."

Angelena's eyes turned bloodshot. Her breathing hitched.

She raised her arm and swung with every ounce of strength she had left.

Smack!

The sharp, echoing sound of her palm connecting with Dara's cheek silenced the entire room instantly.

Dara let out a dramatic shriek. She threw herself backward, collapsing onto the carpet. She clutched her red cheek, squeezing out two fake tears. "She hit me! She's out of her mind!"

The camera flashes exploded again, capturing the 'assault'.

Arleen whipped out her phone, recording the scene. "Look at the high and mighty Beasley heiress now! Acting like a complete psycho!"

Angelena tried to lunge off the bed to rip the phone from Arleen's hand. But her legs gave out completely. She crashed hard onto the floor, her knees hitting the carpet. She was utterly defenseless.

Hotel security guards finally burst into the room, shouting and pushing the reporters back. The chaos was absolute. Angelena's dignity was being trampled into the dirt.

Dara allowed a security guard to help her up. She looked down at Angelena, a cold, victorious sneer on her face. "I'm sending this straight to Grandmother. You're going to be ruined."

Angelena bit her lower lip so hard it bled again. She forced herself to stop shaking. She tilted her chin up, locking eyes with Dara.

"I will remember this," Angelena said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of all warmth.

Dara felt a sudden chill run down her spine. She broke eye contact, clearing her throat loudly. "Let's go," Dara ordered. She turned and swept out of the room, taking Arleen and the swarm of reporters with her.

The heavy door clicked shut. The silence that followed was deafening.

Angelena curled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face. A raw, guttural sob finally tore from her throat.

After several long minutes, she forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled as she walked into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was covered in red marks.

She turned on the cold water and splashed her face. She would make them pay. Every single one of them.

Her eyes dropped to the marble vanity. Lying next to the sink was a single, custom-made men's cufflink. It was dark platinum, engraved with a complex crest.

Angelena picked it up. She squeezed it in her fist. The sharp metal edge bit deep into her palm, drawing a bead of blood. She didn't care about the pain. She hated the stranger who had ruined her just as much as she hated Dara.

Angelena stepped out of the hotel bathroom. She had thrown on her torn evening gown, ignoring the cold draft against her skin. She didn't look back as she walked out of the suite, her palm still bleeding around the platinum cufflink.

Two months later.

The air inside the Beasley family mansion on the Upper East Side was suffocatingly tense.

Angelena stood in the center of the grand living room. Her fingers were clamped tightly around a crumpled medical report. Positive.

Her grandmother, Gerda Alvarado, sat in the high-backed leather armchair at the head of the room. Her face was a mask of pure fury. Gerda grabbed a stack of tabloids from the coffee table and hurled them directly at Angelena's face.

The heavy papers smacked against Angelena's cheek and scattered across the hardwood floor. The front pages all featured the same blurry, humiliating photos from the hotel room two months ago.

"You have brought absolute shame to this family!" Gerda roared, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Angelena closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Grandmother, I was drugged. Dara set me up."

Sitting on a velvet sofa nearby, Dara elegantly took a sip of her tea. She immediately placed the cup down and pressed a hand to her chest, looking deeply wounded. "How can you say that? I went to that hotel to save you! And you hit me!"

Gerda slammed her cane against the floor. "Enough! In the name of God, you are a sinner, Angelena. You are unclean. I am officially stripping you of your inheritance and your access to the family trust fund."

Angelena's eyes snapped open. She stared at the woman who had raised her. Her chest tightened so painfully she could barely breathe. "You're convicting me without even looking for the truth?"

Gerda didn't answer. She gestured to her private lawyer standing in the corner. The lawyer stepped forward, handing Angelena a thick document and a pen.

"Sign the severance agreement," Gerda ordered coldly. "And get out of New York. Never come back."

Angelena looked around the room. Every face staring back at her was cold, calculating, and entirely indifferent to her pain.

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her lips. She snatched the pen from the lawyer's hand. Without a second of hesitation, she slashed her signature across the bottom line. She threw the pen on the floor, turned on her heel, and walked out the heavy oak doors without looking back.

Seven months later.

A brutal blizzard raged outside a dilapidated, off-the-grid cabin deep in the mountains of Colorado. The wind howled, shaking the wooden walls so violently it felt like the roof would tear off.

Inside, Angelena collapsed onto the hard wooden floor. A pool of water soaked through her sweatpants. Her water had broken. A blinding, tearing pain ripped through her abdomen, forcing a raw scream from her lungs.

Mags O'Malley, a black-market midwife, hastily lit a kerosene lamp. Her hands shook as she prepared a basin of hot water. "Push, girl! You have to push!"

Angelena grabbed the edge of the bedsheet, twisting the fabric until her knuckles turned stark white. She pushed with every ounce of strength she had left. The pain was absolute agony.

Finally, the sharp cry of a baby pierced through the sound of the howling wind.

Mags quickly cut the umbilical cord. She wiped the blood away and saw it was a boy. A strange, calculating look flashed across the midwife's eyes. She wrapped the infant in a blanket and set him aside.

Another wave of contractions hit. Angelena's vision went completely black. She was losing too much blood. Driven entirely by the primal instinct of a mother, she pushed again. And again. And again.

She delivered a second boy. Then a girl. Then another girl.

Four weak, overlapping cries filled the small cabin. Angelena forced her heavy eyelids open. She wanted to see her babies. But the blood loss was too severe. The room spun wildly, and her vision faded to a dark blur.

Seeing Angelena slip into semi-consciousness, Mags moved with frantic speed. She grabbed the two baby boys. She stuffed them into a heavy, insulated carrying basket, threw a thick cloak over her shoulders, and hurried to the back door of the cabin.

She pushed the door open against the raging wind. A mysterious figure dressed entirely in black-The Contact-stood in the snow.

The Contact handed Mags a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills.

Mags's eyes gleamed with greed. She snatched the money and shoved the basket containing the two boys into The Contact's arms. Without a word, the figure turned and vanished into the whiteout conditions.

Angelena jolted awake. The freezing draft from the door hit her skin. She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. Panic seized her chest. "Mags? Where are my babies?"

Mags quickly brushed the snow off her cloak and walked back to the bed. She picked up the two baby girls and placed them gently against Angelena's chest. She forced a sympathetic smile. "You did it, honey. You had twin girls."

Angelena's trembling hands wrapped around the two tiny, fragile bodies. Hot tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat on her cheeks. She had no idea she had just given birth to four children.

Mags quickly gathered the bloody towels, hiding her nervous twitch. "I need to go as soon as the storm breaks. You need to rest."

Angelena pulled her daughters closer, feeling their rapid, tiny heartbeats against her skin. She rested her chin on their heads. She silently swore to the heavens that she would survive this. She would give them the world.

A few days later.

Angelena stood in the knee-deep snow outside the cabin. Her body was still incredibly weak. She had her two daughters strapped to her chest in a makeshift carrier. She watched Mags walk away down the mountain path, the midwife's pockets heavy with cash.

Angelena's expression was hard as stone. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an ancient, leather-bound medical journal. It was her late mother's most prized possession, a relic she had secretly hidden away in the floorboards of her room long before the family completely turned their backs on her. She ran her thumb over the worn cover, a bitter smile touching her lips. If Gerda had known about this book, she would have burned it. Now, it was the only thing she had left in this world. Her only leverage.

She stared into the blinding white snow. One day, she would return to New York. She would return with power, and she would take back everything they stole from her.

Five years later.

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York. The arrival terminal was a chaotic sea of noise and people.

A pair of long legs in six-inch Christian Louboutin heels stepped out of the first-class corridor. Angelena, dressed in a sharp, tailored white suit, pulled off her designer sunglasses. Her aura was commanding, instantly drawing the eyes of everyone around her.

She held a small hand in each of hers. Brigida and Domenica, her five-year-old daughters, looked like exquisite porcelain dolls. They wore matching neutral-toned overalls, their big eyes scanning the bustling city with intense curiosity.

Angelena tightened her grip on her daughters' hands as they navigated the crowded terminal. Her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was Justice Koch, her executive assistant, calling to coordinate the pickup.

"I'm near Terminal 4," Angelena said, looking up at the overhead signs.

Brigida tugged hard on the hem of Angelena's white blazer. "Mommy," she piped up, her voice sweet and urgent. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Angelena looked down, a soft, indulgent smile breaking her professional facade. She parked the luggage cart right outside the women's restroom entrance. "Go together. Hold hands. I'll be right here facing the door."

She turned her back to the restroom entrance to block the foot traffic, pressing the phone back to her ear to continue giving Justice directions.

Inside the restroom, Brigida and Domenica washed their hands at the low sinks. Just as Domenica reached for a paper towel, the door to the handicap stall swung open.

Two boys stepped out. They wore identical, high-end tailored mini-suits, complete with sunglasses and baseball caps.

The four five-year-olds froze. They stared at each other in the large mirror. Aside from their clothes and hairstyles, their facial features were a terrifying, exact copy of one another.

Foy, the older of the boys, lowered his sunglasses. His cool, calculating eyes widened slightly. "Why do you look exactly like me?" he demanded, his tone far too serious for a child.

Domenica giggled, sticking her tongue out playfully. Before she could answer, the heavy sound of synchronized, rapid footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

Atherton, the elderly butler of the Richmond family, rushed into the restroom's outer vestibule, sweating profusely. Two massive bodyguards in black trench coats flanked him. They were in a state of absolute panic searching for their missing young masters.

Atherton's aging eyes scanned the area. He saw the backs of two children wearing neutral overalls and dark baseball caps pulled low over their foreheads, completely hiding their long hair. From behind, their silhouettes were identical to the young masters. In his frantic state, he didn't look twice. He lunged forward.

"Thank the heavens I found you!" Atherton gasped. He scooped up Brigida and Domenica, one under each arm. Without waiting for a response, he spun around and sprinted toward the exit, the bodyguards forming a wall behind him.

"Let me go, you crazy old man!" Brigida screamed, kicking her legs wildly. But her voice was completely muffled by the thick fabric of the bodyguards' coats and the blaring, high-decibel automated boarding announcements echoing through the outer vestibule as they rushed out.

Inside the restroom, Foy and Leland peeked around the corner of the sink. They stared at the empty space where the girls had just been.

Leland rubbed his eyes. "Foy, where did those girls go?"

Outside, Angelena hung up the phone and turned around. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a group of men in black suits rushing away, but she thought nothing of it. She assumed her daughters were still inside.

She waited another sixty seconds. Just as she took a step toward the restroom door, Justice Koch came sprinting through the crowd, pushing a second luggage cart, completely out of breath.

"Ms. Beasley!" Justice cried out, throwing her arms around Angelena in a tight hug. "I can't believe we are finally back. After five grueling years of you working day and night in those underground European labs, building this biotech firm from absolute scratch, the new drug trial results are in, they are phenomenal!"

Angelena smiled, distracted by the news.

At that exact moment, Foy and Leland walked out of the restroom, holding hands. Their caps were pulled low, sunglasses back on.

Justice caught sight of the two small figures out of the corner of her eye. Without missing a beat, she reached down and grabbed both boys by the hands. "Look how much you two have grown!" she beamed, not looking closely at their faces.

Foy frowned deeply. He tried to yank his hand away, but Leland gripped his brother's sleeve tightly. Leland was staring up at Angelena's profile. A bizarre, overwhelming sense of comfort washed over him.

Leland leaned in and whispered to Foy, "She smells so good."

Angelena, still reading the trial data on Justice's tablet, gave a distracted nod. She reached down, took Leland's free hand, and strode confidently toward the airport exit.

Meanwhile, Atherton practically threw the two struggling girls into the back of an extended Lincoln Navigator. He slammed the door shut and locked it, collapsing against the leather seat with a massive sigh of relief.

Brigida ripped off her cap, her long dark hair tumbling down her shoulders. She pointed a furious finger right at Atherton's nose. "You are kidnapping us! I am calling the police!"

Atherton turned around. His jaw dropped. His heart nearly stopped beating. The two short-haired young masters he thought he grabbed were now two long-haired little girls.

His hands shook violently as he pulled out his phone. He dialed Fabian Richmond's private number. "S-Sir," Atherton stuttered, cold sweat dripping down his neck. "I... I grabbed the wrong children."

Back with Angelena, the group climbed into the company's luxury van. Angelena handed the tablet back to Justice and turned around to grab a bottle of water for her daughters.

Her eyes landed on the back seat. The smile on her face froze instantly.

The water bottle slipped from her fingers. It hit the floorboard with a heavy thud.

Foy and Leland had taken off their sunglasses. They were staring at her with deep, piercing eyes that were an exact replica of her own. These were absolutely not her daughters.

Angelena's mind went entirely blank. A surge of pure terror shot through her veins. She lunged forward, grabbing Justice by the collar of her blouse.

"Whose children are these? !" Angelena screamed, her voice cracking with panic. "Where are my daughters? !"

Justice turned pale as a ghost. She stuttered, "I-I grabbed them from the bathroom door! I thought they were them!"

Foy sat perfectly still. He pushed Angelena's hand away from Justice's collar. His voice was unnervingly calm. "Ma'am, your employee just committed a serious felony. Kidnapping."

Angelena's vision blurred with panic. She slammed her hand against the partition window. "Turn the car around! Back to the airport, now!" Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest.