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For years, Elvera lived as the despised charity case in the cramped Wright household. When she caught her foster sister Donita straddling her fiancé, they didn't even panic. Instead, they loudly framed Elvera for stealing a diamond necklace to justify kicking her out. Her foster parents immediately sided with the cheaters, screaming at her to pack her trash and starve in the gutters. Only her dying foster brother tried to sneak her his medical savings, but the family violently shoved him away, mocking him as a walking corpse. Standing in the freezing Brooklyn wind, Donita and Crockett followed her outside just to laugh. They waved a crisp twenty-dollar bill in her face, mocking her biological family as a bunch of unemployed street thugs. They really thought she was going to freeze to death on the pavement with nothing but a faded backpack. But then a roaring, matte-black supercar pulled up. The man who stepped out wasn't a street thug; he was her real brother, an FBI task force commander. He effortlessly snapped Crockett's shoulder out of its socket, put Elvera in the passenger seat, and drove her straight to a sprawling billionaire estate in the Hamptons. Sitting by the fire in her biological parents' palace, watching them casually display an eight-million-dollar sculpture she had secretly designed, the head butler suddenly walked in. "Sir, the fake heiress has returned from Europe." Elvera took a slow sip of her coffee. The real game was finally about to begin.
Contents
My Cheating Ex Regrets Losing The Heiress Chapter 1
The floorboards of the second-floor hallway groaned under Elvera's worn sneakers. The sound was a familiar, irritating whine in the cramped Brooklyn house, but today, it felt heavier. The air was thick with the smell of cheap vanilla perfume and stale sweat.
At the end of the narrow corridor, Donita's bedroom door stood cracked open. A sliver of harsh, yellow light spilled onto the scuffed hardwood floor.
Elvera stopped. Her breathing was slow, even. From the gap in the door, a sickeningly sweet, breathless giggle leaked out, followed by the low, wet sound of skin slapping against skin.
Elvera didn't gasp. Her stomach didn't drop. She simply reached out, her cool fingers wrapping around the brass doorknob, and pushed.
The door swung inward. The bright overhead light hit Elvera's eyes, making her squint for a fraction of a second. When her vision cleared, the scene in front of her was exactly as pathetic as she had anticipated.
Donita was straddling Crockett's lap on the edge of the unmade bed.
At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Donita let out a high-pitched, entirely manufactured shriek. She scrambled backward, her hands frantically yanking up the thin strap of her silk camisole to cover her collarbone.
Crockett didn't push Donita away. Instead, his hands lingered on her waist. He tilted his head back, looking past Donita's shoulder to lock eyes with Elvera. A smug, challenging smirk twisted his lips. He was waiting for the tears. He was waiting for Elvera's chest to heave, for her voice to break.
Elvera just stood there. She slowly raised a single, perfectly arched eyebrow.
The absolute lack of reaction hit Crockett like a physical blow. The smirk slid off his face. His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking under his skin. He shoved Donita off his lap and stood up, his hands aggressively smoothing down the wrinkles in his expensive dress shirt.
"You don't know how to knock?" Donita whimpered. She ducked behind Crockett's broad back, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. She bit her lower lip, forcing her eyes to widen into pools of fake, trembling innocence. "Elvera, you scared me."
Elvera crossed her arms over her chest. A dry, humorless laugh scraped the back of her throat.
"If you two are going to act like animals in heat, you could at least chip in for a cheap motel room," Elvera said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. "Doing it in your childhood bedroom is just sad, Donita."
Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs behind Elvera.
Frona charged down the hallway, her sharp heels digging into the floorboards. She shoved past Elvera, her shoulder colliding hard with Elvera's collarbone, and squeezed into the bedroom.
Frona took one look at Donita's disheveled state and immediately threw her arms open, shielding her biological daughter.
Frona whipped her head around, her face flushed a dark, mottled red. She pointed a trembling finger inches from Elvera's nose.
"You ungrateful, uneducated Brooklyn street rat!" Frona screeched. The shrill frequency of her voice vibrated in Elvera's eardrums. "How dare you barge into my daughter's room!"
Elvera didn't flinch. She kept her arms crossed, her dark eyes locking onto Frona's contorted features. The air in the room felt suffocating, toxic.
"You are a charity case!" Frona spat, saliva flying from her lips. "We fed you! We clothed you! And this is how you repay us? By spying on your sister?"
"She's jealous, Mom," Donita sobbed from behind Frona. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with forced sobs. "She's always been jealous of me. She wants to seduce Crockett."
Crockett wrapped a protective arm around Donita's waist. He looked at Elvera, his nose wrinkling as if he had just smelled rotting garbage.
"What the hell are you doing? Get out!" Crockett sneered, his voice loud to cover his guilt. "You have absolutely no right to barge in here! Have you ever heard of privacy?"
Elvera's lips twitched. A slow, razor-sharp smile spread across her face. The sheer audacity of these people didn't break her heart; it cured her of any lingering obligation she felt toward them.
She took one deliberate step forward.
Crockett's breath hitched. His body betrayed him, his weight shifting backward onto his heels before he could stop himself.
"You?" Elvera said, her voice dropping to a low, icy register. She looked Crockett up and down, stripping away his expensive clothes with her stare. "You're a social-climbing opportunist. You saw the Wright family's bank accounts and decided to latch on like a parasite."
Crockett's face drained of color. His mouth opened, but his throat worked soundlessly. His hand flew to his collar, tugging at it as if he were suddenly choking.
Elvera didn't give him a second to recover. She shifted her dead-eyed gaze to Donita.
"And you," Elvera said, her words slicing through the air like a scalpel. "You're a manipulative socialite who uses her body to secure a safety net because you have absolutely nothing in your brain to offer."
Donita's fake sobs stopped instantly. Her hands dropped from her face. A flash of pure, venomous hatred twisted her pretty features. She chewed aggressively on her lower lip, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but she didn't dare speak.
"Get out!" Frona screamed, her vocal cords straining to the point of breaking. "Get out of my house! Pack your trash and leave!"
Elvera uncrossed her arms. She casually brushed her fingertips over her jacket sleeve, wiping away the invisible filth of this room.
"Gladly," Elvera said. Her pulse was steady. Her mind was crystal clear. "I don't want to breathe the same air as you for one more second."
She turned on her heel. Her sneakers hit the floorboards with firm, measured steps.
"You'll be begging on the streets by tomorrow!" Frona shrieked at Elvera's retreating back. "You'll starve in the gutters!"
Elvera paused at the doorframe. She tilted her head slightly, looking over her shoulder.
"An opportunist and a manipulative bitch," Elvera said softly. "You two really are a match made in heaven."
She stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her, cutting off Frona's next scream with a solid, satisfying click.
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