The Secret Heiress.

TAMERA'S POV

"Thief."

That word hit harder than the slap.

My cheek stung, burning hot from the force of it. I stood there, hand pressed to my face, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. My mind was still catching up. Was this real life? Or did I somehow get dropped into an overly dramatic telenovela? Because no way was I standing in my in-laws' over decorated living room, being accused like some common criminal.

But nope. This wasn't a dream. It was painfully real. And unfortunately for me, the nightmare was just getting started.

"I knew from the start you were nothing but a gold-digging little tramp," Delores snapped. Delores, my husband's mom, aka the queen of dramatic entrances and soul-crushing insults, stood with her arms crossed like she was ready for round two. "You were never good enough for my son. And now this? Stealing from us? You're pathetic."

I blinked. Stealing? I didn't steal it!

"I didn't do it! " I managed to say, my voice coming out weaker than I liked. "I didn't steal anything! Why would I? I have done everything for this family. I've been loyal since day one."

There. That was brave, right? Except... wrong move.

Before I could even brace myself, another slap cracked across my other cheek. And this time, it wasn't from her.

It was from him.

Max.

My husband. My supposed partner. The man I stupidly thought would always have my back.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him, completely frozen.

No. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Max..." I whispered, the name barely making it past my lips. My chest was tight, like my heart was trying to claw its way out.

He looked at me like I was nothing. Not the woman he married. Not the woman who stood by him when he was grinding to build his empire. Just nothing.

"You have some nerve," he spat. "Standing there, acting all innocent. After everything I gave you. And now you steal from me? From my family?" His eyes were pure hatred.

I could barely breathe. My ears were ringing.

"I didn't fucking do it!" I choked out, my voice cracking. "It's a damn bracelet, Max. Why the hell would I steal that?"

My throat burned, and my eyes were stinging, but I refused to cry again. Not in front of them. Not like this.

A husband is supposed to have your back, right? Especially when the whole world's turning against you? But apparently, that's just too much to expect from Max.

He didn't even move. He stood across from me like a stranger, arms folded, face cold, jaw locked tight like he couldn't stand the sight of me. His brown eyes used to be warm, soft... home. Now? They were empty. Like all the love was just gone.

This wasn't the man I married.

And of course, Delores had to step in. Because what's a family disaster without the mother-in-law stirring the pot like it's her full-time job?

"Oh, give it a rest with the dramatics," she said, walking toward me like she owned the damn floor. "Do you really think we don't see through this little act? You have been sucking the life out of this family since day one. Trapping Max, clinging to his money, his name, now this? Stealing? How low can you go?"

I blinked at her, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming.

"You really hate me that much, huh?" I said, meeting her eyes head-on. "I have never stolen anything in my life, but it doesn't matter, does it? You made up your mind about me the second Max brought me home."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not used to me talking back. Her expression twisted into something worse, something almost satisfied, like she was winning.

But I didn't care anymore.

I turned to Max. Because despite everything, a piece of me was still stupid enough to hope.

"Max," I said softly, stepping toward him. "You know me. You know I'd never-"

"Shut up, Tamara."

My heart actually stopped for a second.

This weekend was supposed to be normal. Just a stupid little getaway with the in-laws. I didn't even want to come. Delores was always a nightmare, but I never expected to be framed.

They said the family heirloom, some ancient gold bracelet worth a small fortune went missing. Then boom. Magically, it shows up in my bag.

How convenient.

It was like walking into a trap I didn't know I was in until it was already too late.

"Are you seriously choosing not to trust me?" I whispered, stepping toward him, desperate to reach the part of him that still loved me, if it even existed anymore. "I didn't take the jewelry. I don't know how this happened, but I swear, I didn't do it."

His expression didn't change. If anything, it hardened.

"You can't fool me you know? The Tamara I married is different from what you are now. I know you did it," he muttered, looking down at me with disgust. "I can't believe I ever trusted you."

Oh that hurt, no hurt is an understatement. It tore me to fucking shreds! I have tried so hard, to make sure his family never got between us, that they never make him hate me

But it happened already

No going back it seems.

"Max..." My voice broke, and I hated myself for it. "How can you believe this? I love you. I've only ever loved you."

"You love yourself," Anya, his sister, sneered from the side of the room. "That's the only person you've ever cared about, isn't it? All this time, you've been manipulating us, taking advantage of Max's kindness and our family's generosity. And now, stealing jewelry? And not just any jewelry, the very expensive family heirloom. How disgusting? Do you have no shame at all? Is there any depth you won't sink to? You're nothing but a parasite, feeding off of others and ruining everything you touch."

"I didn't take anything!" I cried out. Damn I was frustrated. I was too frustrated. "I don't even know how it got in my things. This is one of you doing, you guys are trying to frame me"

Delores stepped forward again, her face inches from mine.

"Get out," she hissed, her breath hot on my skin. "You don't deserve to be here. You don't deserve Max."

The lump in my throat grew until I could barely breathe. I looked at Max, pleading with my eyes, silently begging him to stop this. To come to my defense. But he stood there, still, unmoving, as if he was watching a stranger. And then he said the words that broke me completely.

"I'm calling the police."

I gasped. In a second, the room spun around me. The words hit me so hard that I stumbled a little.

"What?" I whispered, looking at him in disbelief. "No, Max, you can't."

"They will take care of this," he said coldly, reaching for his phone. "We'll let them deal with your lies."

"Max, please," I whispered, tears streaming down my face now. "Please, don't do this."

But he ignored me. He dialed the number with a chilling calmness that made my stomach turn. The room felt like it was closing in on me now, suffocating me.

The police arrived, and everything happened so fast. I barely had time to speak, to explain myself, before they were handcuffing me and leading me out the door. I glanced back one last time, hoping, praying, that Max would stop them. That he'd realize this was a mistake. But he just watched, his face stone-cold as they took me away.

The cell was cold. Dark.

The air smelled of sweat and fear. I had been there for what felt like forever, but in reality, it had only been a day. A day since the man I loved, the man I would have done anything for, turned his back on me. Accused me of something I didn't do.

I hadn't slept. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, heard his voice telling me I was pathetic. That he didn't believe me. That I was nothing to him.

The door to the cell opened, and a warden stepped in.

"You have a visitor."

I got up, making my way to the visiting room. In that moment, I knew it was Max, and I let myself hope a little. When I entered, I saw him seated in a corner.

He was finally here. He had come to take me home. He had realized it was all a mistake. He would apologize, hold me in his arms, and everything would be okay.

But when I took a seat opposite him, he didn't look at me with warmth or regret. He looked at me with cold indifference. And in his hand, there was an envelope.

"Max?" My voice trembled. "You came to get me out?"

He said nothing. Just dropped the envelope onto the table between us. It landed with a heavy thud, and my heart sank.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Divorce papers." His voice was flat, emotionless. Like I didn't mean anything to him anymore.

I stared at the envelope in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. It was a nightmare. Any second now, I would wake up, and Max would be beside me, holding me close. Telling me he loved me.

But the papers were real. And so was the pain slicing through my chest.

"Sign them," he said, crossing his arms. "And you'll be free to go."

I blinked, my vision blurring with fresh tears. "You're... divorcing me?"

Max didn't flinch. Didn't soften. "You should've thought about that before you stole from my family."

"I didn't steal anything. Max, you know me. You know I would never-"

"I don't know you," he cut me off in a harsh tone. "Not anymore."

My heart shattered into a million pieces. The final pieces of it crumbled to dust. There was a painful ache in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I thought I had more time. More time to fix this, to make him see that I loved him. But he was already gone.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please... don't do this."

Max let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You're absolutely pathetic, Tamara. I can't believe I ever wasted my time on someone like you. Let's be real-if you were me, would you even want to stay married to someone like you? A spineless thief with nothing to offer? You're worthless. And have you even looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Why would I ever want to go out and call that my wife? You're an embarrassment-inside and out."

I stared at him, the man I loved, the man I married, and realized that the person I thought he was no longer existed. Or maybe he never did.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I reached for the pen, my hands shaking. I didn't want to sign. I didn't want to let him go. But there was no choice.

I scribbled my name on the dotted line. My heart broke with every stroke of the pen.

Max watched me with a cruel smile. And when I was done, he laughed.

"Good luck with your life, " he said mockingly before turning and walking away without a second glance.

He walked out of the room, leaving me sitting there alone. My tears fell silently onto the cold floor.

And this time, there was no one to wipe them away

TAMERA'S POV

How long have I been here? Days maybe? I couldn't tell. All I could know was that I have just been sitted on this same cold cell floor, staring at the same god damn ceiling.

How had my life turned out like this?

How had Max, the man I loved with every fiber of my being, become a stranger to me? The man who had promised to protect me, to cherish me, had thrown me into this cell like I was nothing.

I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, but it was all there-the accusations, the shouting, and then the police. I heard footsteps, and I snapped out of my daze. A warden approached the bars, her keys jingling as she unlocked the door.

"Someone's here for you," she said.

A visitor? I frowned. Who could it be? This was the first visitor I had had since being brought here. I wasn't exactly one with a lot of friends or even any at that so the situation was strange.

Could it be Max? Had he finally come back for me? Pathetic as it might sound, a small part of me still clung to the hope that, one day, he would uncover the truth and take me away from this miserable cell.

But when I entered the small visiting room, the hope that had swelled in my chest faded instantly. Sitting across the table was a man I had never seen before. He was wearing a suit, but there was something off about him, something in the way he looked at me, too intense, like he knew something I didn't.

"Who are you?" I asked, not bothering to hide my disappointment as I settled in.

The man leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"My name's Detective Marcus," he said. "I've been looking for you for a long time."

I frowned, feeling confused. Besides this theft I had just been framed with, I don't see myself to have any business with a detective. So why has he been looking for me?

"Looking for me? I don't know you."

He nodded slowly, as if he expected that answer. "No, I don't suppose you do. But I know you. Or at least, I thought I knew what happened to you."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

My patience was already running thin. I wasn't in the mood for games.

The detective watched me closely, leaning forward. "What's your real name?"

I blinked, thrown by the question. "What? My name is Tamara."

He narrowed his eyes. "Tamara what?"

"Tamara Evans. What does that have to do with anything?"

The detective's mouth quirked into a strange smile, like he knew something I didn't.

"Evans... right." He shook his head slowly. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Remember what?" I snapped, feeling frustrated. "What are you even talking about?"

Before I could react, the man leaned forward suddenly and plucked a strand of hair from my head. I yelped, jerking back in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?"

He ignored my outburst, carefully placing the strand of hair into a small plastic bag.

"Just checking something," he said dryly, standing up.

"Wait, where are you going?" I demanded, but he didn't answer.

He gave me one last strange look before turning and leaving the room, leaving me sitting there, completely confused.

I was left alone, my mouth open. Who was that man? What did he want? And what the hell did he mean by 'checking something'?

It was a strange encounter. Days passed, and I didn't see the peculiar man again, but my mind remained filled with confusion. What had he wanted? And why had he taken a strand of my hair?

So they let crazy people conduct investigations now? The thought seemed absurd, yet I couldn't shake it off.

Giving up the thought, I drifted back into my miserable routine, slowly acclimating to the monotony until, days later, another message arrived.

"You have a visitor..."

A visitor? Again? My heart skipped, but reality quickly tempered my hopes. Who could it be this time? I knew it couldn't be Max.

I went to see whoever it was. There were an older man and woman, both dressed in expensive, luxurious clothes. I recognized them immediately. Everyone in the country knew who they were. Daniela and Kenneth Johnson. The wealthiest couple in the city, maybe even the country. I'd seen their faces on TV, in magazines, on blogs. But what were they doing here? Why were they visiting me?

I glanced behind me, wondering if this was some mistake. But the moment our eyes met, something strange happened. They both froze, staring at me like they'd seen a ghost. Daniela raised her hand to her mouth. Instantly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Tammie?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind.

"No," I said slowly, shaking my head. "My name is Tamara."

Well, maybe Tammie as a nickname but I never liked it when anyone called me Tammie, it is uncomfortable.

But before I could say anything else, the woman rushed forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Oh my God, Tammie! It's really you!"

I stood there, stiff and confused, as the woman sobbed against my shoulder. "What... what are you talking about?"

The man, Kenneth, stood up slowly. His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he watched us.

"We thought you were dead," he said. "We thought we lost you in that accident all those years ago. You're our daughter."

I pulled away from the woman, Daniela, shaking my head.

"I think you have the wrong person," I said, my voice shaky. "I'm not your daughter. My name is Tamara Evans."

But Daniela shook her head, her tears falling freely. "No, no... you're our daughter. Tammie Johnson. You don't remember because of the accident."

"Accident?" I repeated, completely lost.

Kenneth stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You were in a terrible car accident. We thought you had died. The body they found in the wreck was burned beyond recognition, but it was wearing your favorite necklace. We thought it was you, but it wasn't."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around their words. "This can't be right. My husband, Max, he-"

Daniela gasped. "Husband? You're married?"

"Yes," I said. "Max Evans."

The couple exchanged a glance, and I could see the confusion on their faces.

"We need to explain everything," Daniela said gently. "But first, we need you to understand that we're your real family. We did a DNA test... the hair the detective pulled from you. It matched."

My legs felt weak, and the room spun. That's why the detective pulled a lock of my hair?

DNA test? None of this made sense. How could I be someone else? "What are you talking about?" It was hard to absorb everything they were saying. I felt incredibly tired, so tired that, for some reason, my vision began to blur.

Their voices faded into the background of my mind. It was all too much to process. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I started to ask more questions, but the words didn't come. My vision blurred, and before I could process anything, the world went black.

TAMERA'S POV

The room was hazy when I first opened my eyes. The bright lights hurt my eyes, forcing me to squint. My mind felt sluggish, like it was struggling through a fog. Slowly, I realized I wasn't in the cramped cell where I last remembered being. No, this place was much cleaner, sterile. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the air, and when I glanced down, I saw I was in a hospital bed.

Panic took over me for a moment as the memories of jail flooded back-cold nights, harsh words, fear pulling at the edges of my mind. But... I wasn't there anymore. I was here, in this bed, feeling safe. How? Why? The questions swirled in my head, but before I could even process them, the door opened.

That was when I saw him.

A man, a strange man who I did not recognize simply walked into the room and stared at him.

His face didn't carry much emotions, but his eyes, oh his eyes had a lot to tell. It was a jumble of emotions. Hurt, anger, betrayal. It has a lot of stories.

For a second, I thought I must still be dreaming, or maybe I had died and gone to heaven. The man was nothing short of breathtaking. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably gorgeous. He looked like a god. His suit fit his muscular frame perfectly. His jaw was sharp, his skin smooth and sun-kissed like he spent his time on private beaches. But I why was he looking at me like that?

And why do I feel like I know him?

He stopped at the edge of my bed, and I realized I was staring. Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I couldn't stop.

"Who... who are you?" My voice came out hoarse.

He opened his mouth to answer. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile that made my heart stutter. His presence was magnetic, and every nerve in my body was acutely aware of how close he was. I felt a strong pull towards him, a connection I couldn't explain. I wanted to know his name. I needed to know.

But just as he was about to speak, the door burst open again.

"Tammie!" Daniella's voice filled the room, and suddenly, I was pulled back to reality. My supposed parents rushed to my side, wrapping me in their arms before I could fully process what was happening.

"Oh, honey, are you alright? We were so worried," Daniella said, her hands cradling my face as she checked for any signs of injury.

I blinked, still disoriented, and glanced over her shoulder. The man was gone. He had slipped out so quietly I hadn't even noticed. My heart sank a little that he was gone, and I had no idea why. I didn't even know him. Or was I imagining him?

"I'm... I'm fine," I managed to say, though my voice felt distant.

I was still trying to wrap my head around everything; waking up in a hospital, my so-called parents being there, him. I wanted to ask them about the man, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the way Daniella's face was so full of relief, or the way the two of them wouldn't stop fussing over me. There were too many questions swirling in my head, and I didn't know where to begin.

So, I kept quiet, letting my parents take me back home, wherever that was.

---

When the car pulled up to what my parents called "home," I was speechless.

The mansion was huge, sprawling across acres of perfectly manicured land. Massive pillars framed the front, giving it a royal, almost palace-like appearance. A large fountain gushed in the center of the driveway, surrounded by sleek, expensive cars. The sun glinted off their polished surfaces.

"Welcome back, darling," my father said proudly, gesturing to the estate like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But it wasn't. I had never seen this place before in my life or at least I didn't remember seeing it. It felt familiar, yes, like a long-forgotten memory scratching at the edges of my mind, but I couldn't fully place it.

"Do you like it?" my mother asked.

I nodded, unable to form words. My mind was still reeling. How was this my life? Was I dreaming? None of it made sense, yet somehow, deep down, something about it felt right.

As we walked inside, the luxury only increased. Marble floors, chandeliers, and walls lined with gold plates adorned the space. Every detail screamed wealth and power. And then I saw the photos. My photos.

There were pictures of me smiling, happy, alongside my parents. Memories I didn't recall. It felt weird. This was real. I really was their daughter. I belonged here.

My parents talked excitedly, but their voices faded as I lost myself in the photographs.

Who was I before? How could I have forgotten all of this? Nothing was making sense at all, not at that very moment but I decided the best thing to do for now was go with the flow.

Days passed quickly, and I slowly adapted to my surroundings. Maids and servers catered to my every need, but I still felt like an outsider in my own life. Something was missing. There was a gap in my memory, a piece of me that was lost. But I pushed it aside, focusing instead on the present. Then, one afternoon, everything changed.

A maid came to my room, bowing her head slightly. "Miss Tamera, your parents wish to see you in the living room."

I followed her down the staircase, wondering what they had called me for. When I entered the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was him.

He was real???

The man from the hospital stood there, just as devastatingly handsome as I remembered. His presence filled the room, and my breath caught in my throat. Those same piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and once again, it felt like the world faded away. My heart pounded in my chest.

My parents were beside him. Their faces were neutral, but there was something in their eyes-l, something they weren't telling me.

"Tamera," my father began, "There's something we need to discuss."

I tore my gaze away from the man, forcing myself to focus on my father. "What is it?"

"This is Richard Garrison," my mother said, gesturing to the man. "We've known his family for years, and... well, we've made arrangements."

I frowned. "Arrangements?"

My mother glanced at my father before continuing, "We've arranged for you to marry him, darling. The wedding is in a few weeks."

The words hit me, knocking the air out of my lungs, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

"What?" I whispered.

"We believe this is the best decision for you, for the family," my father added, as if that explained everything.

I was struggling to make sense of it all. One minute I'm in jail, the next I find out I'm supposed to be rich, and now, now I'm getting married? To a stranger? A man I barely even know?

"No!" The word burst out of me before I could stop it. "No, I can't marry him. I'm already married!" My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists. "You can't just arrange my marriage like that!"

Richard, standing silently this whole time, stepped forward.

"Tamera," he said softly. His voice was deep and soothing, sending shivers down my spine. "I understand this is a shock, but-"

"I don't even know you," I cut him off, my eyes wide as I stared at him. "And I'm pretty sure you don't know me either. What makes you think it's right to force me into a marriage? How does any of this make sense to you? You seem like you can have any woman you want, so go after someone else and leave me out of this."

I caught a fleeting look of disappointment or maybe sadness on his face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Please," my mother pleaded. "Just... consider it."

I shook my head, trying to control my anger . "No," I said firmly, backing away. "I'm still married. I can't... I can't marry someone else."