This Heiress Doesn’t Fight Anymore Chapter 06

This Heiress Doesn’t Fight Anymore Chapter 06

Bluehaven Island.

Sun everywhere. The breeze off the water smelled like salt and something sweeter underneath.

I was out cold in the yard, rocking chair swaying, a comic book draped over my face.

No Bennett screaming. No Graham sneering. No Brielle and her crocodile tears. Just quiet.

I slept until my body decided to wake up. When I got hungry, I wandered down to the fishing village for

whatever was fresh.

This was how life was supposed to feel.

“Maren! Package!”

Milo Hayes, my neighbor, was leaning over the yard wall. He was easy on the eyes: early twenties, a freelance photographer, with the kind of tan you get from actually living outside.

He had this grin: wide, a little wolfish, showing off two sharp canines.

I peeled the comic off my face and yawned.

“Just leave it. Thanks.”

He hopped the wall and carried it over himself.

“What’s in here? This thing weighs a ton.”

“Fishing gear.” I sat up halfway. “Planning to park myself by the water tomorrow and do absolutely nothing.”

Milo’s face lit up. “Bring me! I’ll take some photos of you while you fish.”

“Sure, whatever.”

I took the package and tossed him a cold Coke.

That’s when my burner phone rang. The new number, the one nobody should have had.

[Unknown number]

I picked up.

[Hello.]

Nothing on the other end.

Just breathing. Heavy. Controlled. Like someone trying not to break.

Ten seconds of silence. Then a voice, raw and wrecked:

[Maren.]

Graham.

His voice shook. [Where are you?]

I frowned.

I hung up.

Then I blocked the number.

Six hundred miles away. Bellhaven.

Graham stood holding the dead phone, eyes bloodshot.

Papers littered the office floor.

Three days.

Three days of pulling every string, leaning on telecom executives, just to track down her new number and

location.

And she’d hung up before he could finish a sentence.

“Mr. Caldwell…” The assistant hovered in the doorway, visibly nervous. “The Whitmore family called.”

“Talk.”

“Bennett kicked Brielle out.”

Graham looked up.

It had taken Bennett three days. Three days of digging through every thread, every record, every lie until the full picture came together. Years of Brielle targeting Maren. Framing her. Sabotaging her at every turn.

He’d watched the yacht footage. Brielle grabbing Maren’s arm. Pulling her into the water on purpose.

The sweet, fragile girl they’d spent years protecting was a fraud. Every tear and every trembling lip had been calculated.

And the sister they’d called a monster?

She’d been the one holding the line. Quietly absorbing every hit they never even knew was coming.

“Car. Now.”

Graham was already on his feet, voice scraped raw. “Bluehaven Island.”

“Sir, you have a billion–dollar acquisition meeting this afternoon…”

“Cancel it!” The roar ripped out of him, raw, desperate, nothing like the man who ran a boardroom. “Get me to

Bluehaven. Now.”