Unmasking the Heiress by Sisi Yea

Walter did not allow Evangeline to fight back, not sparing her another glance. With a face of stone and a fury that could shake the earth, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound was like thunder, and the chill wind that followed seemed to freeze the room, the dark night and churning sea outside consuming Evangeline's heart.

However, she did not rage. She laughed, a laugh that kept the tears at bay, and hurled her cup against the wall. "Walter, you bastard!"

Her inner rebel, long caged, shattered the facade she had maintained for three years. He had flaunted Julia in her face, a clear message to get out of the Gordon family. However, when she was ready to do just that, he balked?

She was not fooled. Walter was not the type to have second thoughts. He was always the one in charge, the mastermind. He would be damned if he was not the one calling the shots in their marriage, too.

He could walk away from her, leaving her to wear the label of a divorcee, but she was not allowed to challenge him.

He could suggest divorce, but she was supposed to stay silent.

Why was it that he could lavish all his love on the woman she despised most on New Year's Eve, and she was expected to step aside, clearing the way for them?

She was determined to end that marriage. She was set on claiming half of the alimony, too. She would not let Julia get off with a windfall.

After one too many drinks, her head spinning slightly, she splashed water on her face in the bathroom.

When she stepped out of the lounge, the party on the yacht had wound down. Even Julia had vanished.

With an arch of her brow, she strutted off the yacht in her stilettos.

The night stretched out, vast and chilly, the wind biting.

Evangeline stood solitary by the shore, on that New Year's Eve of farewells and new beginnings, gazing at the distant twinkling lights of countless homes.

She mustered her courage and dialed her uncle, James Foster.

30 minutes later, James' sleek black Porsche, the epitome of understated luxury, screeched to a halt before her.

had nearly numbed her limbs, climbed into the car. A wave of warmth enveloped her, and she finally dropped her defenses, looking up at James tearfully. "Uncle James... What took you so long?" James Foster, the top lawyer at Halcyonia with a

on his niece, he chided her with a mix of frustration and affection, "So you finally thought to call me, kiddo? I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about us!" Evangeline clung to James' arm, looking pitiful. "Uncle James, I

on? It's the holidays, for crying out loud. Where's Walter?

that kind of warmth in ages, and she nuzzled against James' shoulder. "Uncle James, can you be

mistreatment. "I should've known you wouldn't come to me unless it's serious. What were you thinking, falling

mix of heartache and anger surged through James. He flicked

other uncles get wind of this, they'll want Walter's

might break

His biggest dream is to hold a great-grandson, and he's been holding out for some good

Cole's

hit, her grandpa fell ill. Her uncles, besieged by betrayal, struggled to keep the family afloat. To save the Fosters

had big plans for her, seeing her as the one to carry on the Foster family legacy. He wanted her to settle down with Walter and quickly give

had other plans,

to have a baby was not just about keeping Walter close, it was about giving

Cole's country home. Little did they know about Cole's real identity: Cole Foster, the enigmatic gambling tycoon

then

you saying?"

down her inner turmoil and nonchalantly crossed her legs. "Don't worry, Uncle. Give me two months, and I'll be

but they were not about to let her rush

resolute. "Just handle the divorce,

Walter think she could not make it

kick her out in three months. Well, Evangeline was about to show them all. She was determined to prove to Walter that she did not need him to have a life, to have a family with

she was already ready to move on. She would find someone far better than Walter-someone a million

stay tied to Julia

man who's ready to start a family. Must be under thirty, standing at about 1.9 meters, drop-dead gorgeous with a genius-level IQ, and let's just say... Well-endowed, skilled in bed. Ivy League grad, of course.