The Heiress They gave away

CHAPTER ONE THE DAUGHTER NOBODY WANTED The night her sister got engaged, Isabella Hart discovered that her father had already sold her future to a billionaire. And the worst part? He had accepted the payment before asking whether she wanted to marry him. "Smile, Isabella. You're ruining the photographs." Victoria Sterling's voice cut through the music. Isabella turned from the grand staircase and looked at her stepmother. Victoria wore a champagne-coloured gown, diamonds around her neck, and the expression of a woman who believed every person in the room existed to serve her. "I'm smiling," Isabella replied. "Then try looking happy." Victoria walked away before Isabella could answer. Isabella glanced at her reflection in the nearest mirror. Her black evening dress was simple, elegant, and several years old. She had altered the sleeves herself because the original design had been too long. Across the ballroom, Arabella Sterling stood beside her fiancé, Alexander Blackwood. The two families had transformed the Sterling residence into a palace of white roses, golden lights, and expensive champagne. Everyone was celebrating the engagement of the year. Everyone except Isabella. She loved Arabella. That was what made tonight bearable. They had grown up sharing a bedroom whenever Victoria travelled, stealing biscuits from the kitchen, and whispering about their dreams beneath the blankets. Although they were half-sisters, Arabella had never treated Isabella as anything less than family. When they were children, Arabella had once broken a crystal vase and blamed herself after Victoria accused Isabella of touching it. She had been punished for three days. Isabella had never forgotten. Now Arabella was marrying into one of the country's wealthiest families, and Isabella wanted her to be happy. She simply wished happiness did not require pretending everything else in their family was perfect. "You're hiding again." Arabella appeared beside her, lifting the hem of her gown slightly as she approached. "I'm standing in a perfectly normal place." "Behind a pillar?" "It's a very attractive pillar." Arabella laughed. For a moment, the tension left Isabella's shoulders. "You look beautiful," Arabella said. "So do you." "That's not what I meant." "I know." Arabella's smile softened. She slipped her hand into Isabella's. "Whatever happens tonight, promise me something." "What?" "Don't let Mother get to you. Not tonight." Isabella glanced towards Victoria, who was greeting guests beside Richard Sterling, her father. "I'll try." "Promise." "I promise." Arabella squeezed her hand before Alexander called her back for photographs. As Isabella watched her sister return to the crowd, her phone vibrated. An email notification appeared. SUBJECT: URGENT — STERLING MERIDIAN HOLDINGS Isabella frowned. She had been helping with administrative records at her father's company for several months, mostly because Richard trusted her ability to spot inconsistencies. He rarely acknowledged her contributions publicly, but he knew she was good with numbers. The email came from the company's finance department. She opened it. A list of recent transactions appeared on the screen. One transfer caught her attention immediately. A substantial payment had been made to an offshore company she did not recognise. The transaction was recorded as a consultancy fee, but the supporting invoice was missing. She checked the date. Three weeks earlier. Another transfer had followed two days later. Then another. Isabella's stomach tightened. These were not ordinary expenses. Someone had moved an enormous amount of money through accounts connected to Sterling Meridian Holdings without the documentation required for such payments. She opened the attachment. The final page contained a scanned agreement. The heading made her blood run cold. CONFIDENTIAL MARRIAGE AND CORPORATE ACQUISITION AGREEMENT. She read the first paragraph. Then the second. By the third, the music seemed to fade around her. The agreement named Richard Sterling as one party and Damian Cross, chairman of Cross Meridian Group, as the other. It described a proposed marriage between Damian Cross and a daughter of the Sterling family. In exchange, Cross Meridian would provide financial assistance to Sterling Meridian Holdings and receive controlling rights over specified company assets if certain conditions were fulfilled. Isabella read the document again. The agreement had been signed three weeks earlier. Her father's signature appeared at the bottom. So did Damian Cross's. But the line identifying the Sterling daughter was partially obscured by a scanned mark. Isabella enlarged the image. A word became visible. Isabella. Her hand went cold. She read the clause concerning consent. The agreement stated that Richard Sterling would ensure Isabella's cooperation and that the marriage would proceed once the necessary arrangements had been completed. There was no signature from Isabella. No indication that anyone had asked her. Her father had negotiated her marriage as though she were another company asset. A familiar voice spoke behind her. "Interesting reading for an engagement party." Isabella turned. Richard stood a few feet away, holding a glass of champagne. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and his dark suit fitted him with the precision of expensive tailoring. For years, she had wanted his approval. Now she could barely look at him. "What is this?" Richard's gaze dropped to her phone. His expression changed. Only slightly, but she saw it. "Where did you get that document?" "That isn't an answer." "Isabella, put your phone away." "Did you arrange my marriage to Damian Cross?" Richard looked towards the ballroom entrance. "Not here." "Did you?" His jaw tightened. "We will discuss it privately." "You signed an agreement selling my future without asking me." "Lower your voice." "Why? Are you afraid people will hear what you have done?" Richard caught her arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to remind her that he was accustomed to being obeyed. "Do not embarrass this family." Isabella pulled free. "You have already done that yourself." For a moment, her father looked almost startled. Then his expression hardened. "You have no understanding of the position this company is in." "Then explain it to me." "Not now." "Because you know you cannot justify it?" Richard leaned closer. "That company employs thousands of people. Families depend on it. I have spent my entire life building it, and I will not watch it collapse because you insist on behaving like an ungrateful child." "Then find another way to save it." His eyes narrowed. "You think everything is simple because you have never carried responsibility." "I think marriage should require consent." Before Richard could respond, someone approached them. "Mr Sterling." The voice was calm, deep, and unfamiliar. Richard released Isabella immediately. A tall man in a black suit stood beside them. His dark hair was neatly styled, his expression unreadable, and his presence carried the quiet authority of someone who never needed to raise his voice to be noticed. Isabella recognised him from financial news articles. Damian Cross. The billionaire whose company was apparently about to acquire her family's empire. His eyes moved from Richard to Isabella's phone. Then he looked directly at her. "Miss Hart." "Mr Cross." "I see you've found the agreement." "How unfortunate for you." Something almost resembling amusement crossed his face. "On the contrary. I prefer people to know what they are agreeing to." "Then perhaps you should have asked me before agreeing to marry me." Richard interrupted. "Damian, we can discuss the details in my study." "Of course." Damian's attention remained on Isabella. "But before we do, I believe there is something you should understand." She folded her arms. "Go ahead." "I did not approach your father because I wanted a wife." "That is supposed to reassure me?" "No. It is supposed to make you suspicious." For the first time that evening, Isabella found herself genuinely interested in what someone had to say. "Why?" "Because your father has been hiding financial records from my company for nearly a year. Records connected to transactions made before your mother's disappearance." The words struck harder than Isabella expected. Her mother. Seraphina Veyra. A woman whose name had become almost forbidden in the Sterling household. Isabella was four when her mother disappeared. Her memories were fragmented: a soft voice singing in a language she could not understand, the scent of jasmine, and a silver pendant that had once rested against her mother's collarbone. Richard had told her that Seraphina was unwell and had left. Victoria insisted that discussing her was unnecessary. Whenever Isabella asked for more information, the conversation ended. "What does my mother have to do with your company?" she asked. Damian's expression became more serious. "That is what I intend to discover." Richard stepped between them. "This conversation is over." "No," Isabella said. "It isn't." She turned towards Damian. "If you know something about my mother, tell me." "Not here." "That seems to be everyone's favourite answer tonight." "I can give you documents. Original records, not rumours. But I need to know whether you're prepared to examine what they reveal, even if it destroys the family you think you know." Isabella stared at him. She should have walked away. She should have found Arabella, forgotten the agreement, and demanded that her father explain himself somewhere private. Instead, she heard herself ask, "When?" "Tomorrow morning." "Where?" "I'll send the address." Richard's face darkened. "You will do nothing of the sort." Isabella looked at her father. "You have already made enough decisions for me." She walked away before he could stop her. --- Arabella found her twenty minutes later on the terrace overlooking the gardens. "What's wrong?" Isabella tried to smile. "Nothing." "Don't do that." "Do what?" "That thing where you pretend you're fine because you think everyone else's happiness matters more than yours." Isabella looked at her sister. For a moment, she considered telling her everything. But Arabella's engagement ring caught the light as she moved, and Isabella remembered the promise she had made. She would not ruin tonight unless she had to. "Father and I argued," she admitted. "About what?" "Something concerning the company." Arabella studied her face. "Is it serious?" "I don't know yet." "Promise me you'll tell me if it becomes serious." Isabella hesitated. Then she nodded. "I promise." Arabella hugged her. "I love you, you know." "I know." "No matter what Mother says, no matter what Father does, you're my sister." Isabella closed her eyes. If only the rest of their family understood that. When Arabella returned to the ballroom, Isabella remained on the terrace. Her phone vibrated again. An unknown number had sent a message. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR FATHER SOLD YOU TO DAMIAN CROSS, ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED IN GENEVA. A second message followed. AND ASK HIM WHY HE TOLD EVERYONE YOUR MOTHER WAS DEAD. Isabella stopped breathing for a moment. Her mother had not been declared dead in any document she had ever seen. Richard had simply refused to discuss her. Before Isabella could reply, a final message appeared. It contained a photograph of Seraphina standing outside a stone building beside a lake. The image was old, but the woman's face was unmistakable. Isabella had spent twenty years trying to remember that face clearly. Now it stared back at her. Alive. And beneath the photograph was a single sentence. YOUR MOTHER DID NOT ABANDON YOU, ISABELLA. YOUR FATHER MADE SURE YOU WOULD NEVER FIND HER.