CEO's Regret: I am Secret Heiress!

Chapter 1: The Shadow of Another (Isabella's POV) I stood outside the private club room, my hand frozen on the doorknob as voices filtered through the c***k. I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but hearing my name stopped me in my tracks. "So, Elena is back in the city," a voice I recognized as Austin drawled, likely swirling his scotch. "What’s the plan, Gabriel? How are you going to handle Isabella?" There was a pause. Then, my boyfriend Gabriel Morrison’s voice drifted out. "I don't want to hurt her, Austin. But you know I never truly let go of Elena." "Isabella has been with you for three years, man," Another voice chimed in, his tone laced with a drunken chuckle. "She’s stunning, elegant, and she worships the ground you walk on. You’re really going to toss her aside?" "She is beautiful," Gabriel admitted, the sound of a lighter flicking open punctuating his sentence. "But why do you think I chased her in the first place? It was her eyes. When she looks at me a certain way, she looks exactly like Elena did five years ago." My heart hammered against my ribs. *Her eyes.* The amber eyes he used to kiss, whispering how unique they were. "So, she’s just a placeholder?" His friend laughed. "A high-end substitute to keep your bed warm while you waited for the real queen to return? You’re ruthless, Gabriel. You should just break up with her. Don't string the poor girl along." "I can't just yet," Gabriel sighed, exhaling smoke. "I’ve grown used to her. She’s obedient, she makes no trouble, and she anticipates my needs before I even speak. It’s... convenient. I’ll drag it out a bit longer. Maybe until Elena settles in." The cruelty of his words stripped the oxygen from the hallway. *Convenient.* *Obedient.* *A substitute.* I didn't storm in. I didn't scream. I simply let out a short, cold laugh that no one inside could hear, turned on my heel, and walked away. The wind off the river was biting, whipping my long dark hair across my face as I walked aimlessly along the embankment. The city skyline was a blur of neon and gold, shimmering through the tears I finally allowed to fall. Three years. I thought of the nights I stayed up waiting for him. The way I changed my wardrobe to suit his tastes—more elegant, less flashy. The way I suppressed my own fiery temper to become the "sensible" girlfriend he claimed to need. I thought it was a love story where two people worked toward a future. In reality, I was just an actor in his memory play, reciting lines meant for another woman. I stopped under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, the light casting long, lonely shadows on the pavement. My hands trembled as I pulled my phone from my coat pocket. I stared at the contact name: *Dad*. I took a deep breath, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and dialed. "Isabella?" Edward’s voice was gruff but surprised. "It’s late. Is everything alright?" "Dad," I said, my voice steady. "I’m done playing around." "What do you mean?" "I’m ready to come home," I said, staring at the dark, churning water of the river. "And the engagement with the Windsor family... I’m willing to fulfill it." Silence on the other end. Then, a sigh of relief that sounded like it had been held for years. "You’ve finally grown up, Isabella. I told you that boy wasn't right for you. You were too headstrong." "I know," I whispered. "I was willful and naive. I’m sorry, Dad. I just need to tie up some loose ends here. Once I’ve packed my things, I’ll come back to the manor." "Good. James has been waiting for you. Don't make him wait any longer." "I won't." When I returned to the penthouse, the silence was heavy. Sasha, our housekeeper, bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Miss Isabella, you're back," she said warmly, her eyes crinkling. "Mr. Morrison is upstairs. I just heated up the Cream of Mushroom soup you made earlier. It’s on the counter." "Thank you, Sasha," I said. I took the bowl. The steam rose from it, smelling of thyme and cream—a recipe I had spent months perfecting because Gabriel once mentioned he loved it. The bedroom was empty, but the sound of the shower running echoed from the en-suite bathroom. He was home. I walked over to the desk to set the soup down. His laptop was open, the screen glowing in the dim room. I intended to leave immediately, but a *ping* stopped me. An iMessage notification slid onto the top right of the screen. **Elena:** *My flight lands at 11:30 PM. I’m so nervous to be back.* I froze. My grip on the soup bowl tightened until my knuckles turned white. **Elena:** *I’ve dated other men, Gabriel, but none of them were you. I regret leaving for my modeling career every single day. I was young and stupid. Can you ever forgive me?* I stared at the words, feeling a sensation akin to suffocation. It was a physical blow to the chest. Before I could look away, the text bubble expanded. Gabriel was replying. *Now.* **Gabriel:** *I only have one question. Do you still love me?* I felt bile rise in my throat. When I texted him, he would go hours without responding, claiming he was in meetings, driving, or simply "busy." Yet for her, he was risking water damage to reply instantly. **Elena:** *Yes. I love you. Only you.* **Gabriel:** *Good. Wait for me. I’m coming to pick you up.* The screen blurred. Three years of devotion, dissolved by three lines of text. It was almost funny. It was a joke, and I was the punchline. I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the spoon. The soup was still warm. I drank the soup I had made for him. I drank it slowly, savoring the flavor of my own wasted effort. By the time the bathroom door opened, the bowl was empty. Gabriel walked out, a towel around his waist, steam billowing behind him. He looked refreshed, his dark hair wet and tousled. He moved to the closet, pulling out a fresh charcoal suit. "You're back," he said, not looking at me as he dressed. "Where did you go?" "Just for a walk," I said, my voice flat. "I have to go out," he said, buttoning his crisp white shirt. "Emergency at the company. Server crash. I probably won't be back tonight." "Okay," I said. I didn't ask what kind of server crash required a CEO to be present at midnight. I didn't offer to make him coffee. He paused while tying his shoes, perhaps expecting my usual fussing. When it didn't come, he shrugged, grabbed his keys, and walked out of the bedroom. He didn't look back. Not once. The front door clicked shut downstairs. I was alone. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up, expecting a generic notification, but saw a name that made my chest ache in a different way. **James Windsor:** *When are you coming home, Bella?* James. My fiancé. I typed back slowly. **Me:** *Soon, Jay. I just need to finish things here.* His reply was instantaneous. **James:** *Take your time. If you need anything—anything at all—tell me. I’m here.* **Me:** *Thank you, Jay.* **James:** *Rest early. Goodnight, Bella.* I stared at the screen, a solitary tear tracing a path down my cheek. To me, James had always been "Jay," the stern but protective older brother figure who scared off bullies and patched up my scraped knees. I never saw him as a lover, which was why I fled the arranged marriage. But now, his steady presence felt like the only solid ground in a world turning to quicksand. Gabriel didn't come home that night. The next morning, I was woken by the shrill ring of my phone. It was Autumn, one of Gabriel’s friends. "Isabella! You haven't forgotten, have you?" Autumn’s cheerful voice grated on my pounding headache. "My birthday party is tomorrow night! You have to come. Gabriel said he might be late, so I need you there early to help me with the setup!" "I'll be there," I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. "Happy early birthday, Autumn." I spent the afternoon at the mall, numbly walking through high-end boutiques. I bought Autumn a delicate diamond necklace from Cartier. The night of the party arrived. I dressed in a simple black cocktail dress, applied my makeup with surgical precision to hide the dark circles under my eyes, and drove to the venue. The ballroom was already buzzing with chatter and clinking glasses. I found Autumn near the center, holding court. "Isabella!" She shrieked, hugging me. "You made it!" I handed her the velvet box. "Happy birthday." "Oh, you shouldn't have!" She began to open it, but her gaze suddenly shifted over my shoulder, her eyes widening. The chatter in the room seemed to dip, a hush spreading like a wave. I turned around. The double doors had swung open. Gabriel walked in. He looked dashing in a tuxedo, his arm linked possessively with a woman I had only seen in photographs. Elena Hayes. She was petite, wearing a shimmering silver gown that clung to her fragile frame, looking up at Gabriel with adoring eyes. She looked like a princess returning to her kingdom. They walked further into the room, stopping just a few feet from us. Gabriel was smiling at something she said, a genuine, tender smile I hadn't seen in years. Then, he looked up and locked eyes with me. His smile vanished. The color drained from his face. "Isabella," he stammered. "What are you doing here?"