Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 583: For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stumble. Richard and Sandra stood frozen, as if their feet had been nailed to the floor, caught entirely off guard. Vince clenched his jaw, his eyes seething with unfiltered loathing. "From the very beginning, Maia was the only one I ever wanted." The living room fell into a silence so thick it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Richard's face clouded over in an instant, while Sandra's complexion drained to a ghostly white.

She swayed where she stood, her fingers gripping the sofa for dear life, as though the floor beneath her had lost its solidity. Vince's gaze swept over them with frosty indifference, and a dry laugh escaped him-humorless and cutting. "Don't bring up Rosanna in my presence again. Her name alone makes my skin crawl. Must I spell it out for you? The Morgan family has hit rock bottom." His stare sharpened-no longer eyes, but daggers-cutting straight into Richard's pride.

"Your business is hanging by a thread, your allies have deserted you, your son is behind bars, and your daughter's name is dragged through the mud. Your dignity, your influence-gone, like smoke in the wind!" Each word landed with the weight of a hammer, each sentence flung like salt in an open wound. Richard's features twitched, his chest rising and falling under an invisible burden, as if the air itself had turned against him.

"You!" he managed, lifting a trembling hand toward Vince, but it faltered halfway, dropping limply as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady what little remained of his crumbling pride. He wanted to shout back-to reclaim some shred of dignity-but deep in his heart, he knew that every word Vince had hurled was a bitter, undeniable truth. This wasn't merely the loss of fortune-it was a complete unraveling. Their reputation, their legacy, even their inner strength had shattered like glass underfoot. ⧸ ɢⲩ．ⅽ Sandra's tears flowed freely now; her voice was strained, yet still clinging to hope.

"Vince... our families were once bound by an engagement. You and Rosanna, back then-" "Enough." Vince cut her off, his voice colder than frost, his eyes laced with scorn. "I must have been blind to have ever been fooled by that snake, Rosanna! Even if you got down on your knees and begged, I wouldn't touch her-not now, not ever." Just yesterday, he had heard her gasping shamelessly under another man, his own ears bearing witness. He had seen her, wrapped around an older, unattractive man-right before his eyes!

He had once placed her on a pedestal, believing her to be pure and gentle, a porcelain doll untouched by the world. Who could have imagined that she had been weaving a web of deceit all along? And on her own birthday, no less-while he was still under the same roof-she couldn't even wait to throw herself at someone else. It was sickening. The thought of her painted innocence-her eyes full of lies-made Vince's stomach churn. His words crushed what little remained of Sandra's fragile hope. She staggered, as if her very soul had been struck, and no words came.

Richard's face had turned the color of ash, remaining silent for a long, heavy moment before he finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But... you know Maia is already married." He thought back to the call he had placed that morning. Maia hadn't even picked up. Her silence had wrapped around his chest like a chain, leaving a breathless ache that hadn't faded. "And besides..." His voice caught. "Maia has changed. She's become distant-unreachable." But the words wouldn't come. He left the sentence hanging in the air, like a painting half-finished. . . .