The Hidden Heiress Revenge – Betrayal Love and Justice

By Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 4: We have a Press Conference to crash

Part 1: Morning Light

The Manhattan skyline painted watercolours across Sebastian’s penthouse windows as dawn crept over the city. Sophia stood in his kitchen, wrapped in his dress shirt, her Chanel suit draped carefully over a nearby chair. Her vintage Cartier showed 5:45 AM.

“You’re up early,” Sebastian’s voice carried sleep-rough aristocratic tones as he padded into the kitchen, finding her checking market updates on her phone.

“Force of habit,” she murmured, not looking up. “Though the European markets are particularly interesting this morning.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, his jade cufflinks on the counter catching the rising sun. “More interesting than breakfast?”

“Mmm. The Cavendish family seems to be having a rather… difficult morning.” Her smile held secrets as she set her phone aside. “Their trading positions aren’t looking too healthy.”

Sebastian’s laugh rumbled through her. “Remind me never to truly upset you.”

“Too late,” she teased, turning in his arms. “You already married me.”

“Best impulsive decision I’ve ever made.” His eyes held something warmer than mere appreciation. “Though I suspect breakfast might be interrupted by—”

Both their phones buzzed simultaneously.

“Ah,” Sophia smiled. “Right on schedule. Your mother’s pearls must be rattling already.”

“Let them rattle,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “I’m rather enjoying this moment.”

The February sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, turning Sebastian’s Egyptian cotton sheets into spun gold. Sophia stirred as the bedroom door opened, catching the scent of fresh croissants and coffee.

“Your timing is impeccable,” she murmured, watching Sebastian navigate the room with a silver breakfast tray, still in his silk pajama bottoms.

“A Winchester never disappoints at breakfast,” he replied, setting the tray carefully on the bed. “Though I suspect my mother would have a fit seeing her great-grandmother’s Tiffany silver being used for bed picnics.”

“Only the best for morning-after scandals?” Sophia sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist.

“Darling, you’ve redefined scandal.” He poured coffee into delicate bone china cups. “The society pages are having collective apoplexy. Apparently, we’ve destroyed three potential dynasty mergers before noon.”

She reached for a croissant, her wedding ring catching the morning light. “Only three? We must try harder.”

“The day is young.” Sebastian settled beside her, offering fresh strawberries. “Though I must say, waking up to find my wife actually exists was rather reassuring.”

“Worried I’d disappear like Cinderella?” She accepted a strawberry from his fingers, her lips brushing them deliberately.

“More concerned this was all an elaborate dream.” His voice softened. “The mysterious bride who turned my family’s world upside down in less than twenty-four hours.”

Sebastian was just pouring their second cup of coffee when both their phones lit up with the same news alert. Sophia picked hers up first, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face.

“Well, well,” she purred, accepting the coffee. “Marcus Thorne and Olivia Ashworth are holding a press conference at noon.”

“Oh?” Sebastian raised an aristocratic eyebrow, reading his own alert. “Announcing their ‘groundbreaking’ merger with Asian Markets Trading Group?”

“The very same.” Sophia’s laugh held delicious malice as she bit into another strawberry. “The deal that’s supposedly going to put Bennett Financial on the global map.”

“You seem rather amused for someone watching her ex celebrate success.”

“That’s because,” she reached for her phone, her wedding ring glinting, “I arranged that deal three months ago. Every contact, every meeting, every clause…”

Sebastian’s eyes widened with understanding. “And now that you’re no longer secretly supporting him…”

“Now that he’s publicly humiliated me?” Her smile turned predatory. “That contract has some rather interesting cancellation clauses. Ones that only the architect of the deal would know about.”

“Darling,” Sebastian set his coffee down, studying her with growing admiration, “are you suggesting we crash their press conference?”

“Well,” she stretched languidly against the silk sheets, “I did pack a rather stunning Dior suit along with my wedding outfit. Seems a shame to waste it.”

“Actually,” Sophia mused, setting aside her coffee cup with deliberate grace, “if we’re going to crash their little celebration, I need something… devastating.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Bergdorf’s opens in an hour.”

“Darling,” she stretched like a cat in the morning sun, “I was thinking more… Paris-exclusive. Something that would make Olivia’s off-the-rack Valentino look positively provincial.”

“The new Chanel collection just arrived at their Madison Avenue boutique,” Sebastian offered, reaching for his phone. “Charlotte, their director, owes me a favour.”

“A favour?”

“I may have helped her avoid an unfortunate marriage arrangement last spring.” His smile turned wicked. “Seems rather fitting, doesn’t it?”

Sophia slipped out of bed, the silk sheets whispering against her skin. “One condition.”

“Only one?”

“You’re coming with me. If we’re going to scandalize Manhattan society twice in twenty-four hours, you need something that matches my level of devastating.”

“Tom Ford’s new collection did just arrive,” he mused, watching her move toward the ensuite. “Though perhaps we should consider Brioni for the gala. Nothing says ‘I just married a mysterious heiress’ quite like Italian bespoke.”

“Perfect.” She paused at the bathroom door, glancing over her shoulder. “And Sebastian?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Make sure Charlotte knows we need something that photographs well for financial news headlines. I want Marcus to choke on his morning coffee for weeks to come.”

Part 2: Designer Revenge

The private shopping suite at Chanel’s Madison Avenue boutique was a temple of luxury at 9 AM sharp. Charlotte herself had opened early, greeting them with champagne and knowing smiles.

“Sebastian darling,” she air-kissed both his cheeks, “when you said emergency, I didn’t expect… this.” Her eyes sparkled as she took in Sophia. “Though I must say, the society pages are absolutely buzzing.”

“Charlotte,” Sebastian’s aristocratic drawl carried perfect amusement, “my wife needs something… lethal.”

“Lethal?” Charlotte’s perfectly shaped eyebrow rose.

“We’re crashing a press conference,” Sophia explained, running her fingers along a rack of exclusive pieces. “One where my ex-fiancé and his new bride are announcing a deal they think will make them Manhattan royalty.”

“Ah.” Charlotte’s smile turned predatory. “Say no more.” She clapped her hands, and assistants appeared with racks of clothes. “For the press conference, may I suggest…”

She pulled out a smoke-grey suit dress that seemed to absorb and reflect light simultaneously. “Paris exclusive. Not even in stores yet. The cut is…” she paused dramatically, “absolutely murderous.”

“Perfect,” Sophia purred. “And for the gala?”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up as she moved to another rack. “For that, I have something that will make Olivia Ashworth wish she’d never heard of Valentino.”

Sebastian settled into a leather chair, champagne in hand. “Darling, while you’re plotting fashion warfare, shall I tell you about the little clause I discovered in Pierce Financial’s merger agreement?”

“Oh?” Sophia turned, the grey dress held against her. “Do tell.”

“For the gala,” Charlotte continued, unveiling a gown that made even Sebastian sit up straighter, “I present haute couture at its finest.”

The dress was a masterpiece in midnight blue, with intricate beading that caught light like stars in a financial district sky.

“Divine,” Sophia breathed, “but…”

“But?” Charlotte looked almost offended.

“For the gala, I need something more… significant.” Sophia’s smile held secrets. “Something that says ‘I just crashed your press conference and destroyed your merger.'”

Sebastian set down his champagne. “Shall we make a few more stops?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he stood, straightening his cuffs, “Dior’s creative director is in town. And after that little favour I did for his family’s investment portfolio…”

“Darling,” Sophia’s eyes sparkled, “are you suggesting we go boutique hopping through Manhattan?”

“I’m suggesting,” he pulled out his phone, “we let Manhattan’s finest bring their collections to us. The Peninsula’s Royal Suite should do nicely.”

Charlotte’s perfectly glossed lips curved. “I’ll have these pieces sent over. And may I suggest calling Valentino as well? I heard their new collection is… particularly vengeful.”

“Perfect.” Sophia slipped her hand into Sebastian’s arm. “Though first, tell me about this clause you found in Bennett Financial’s merger agreement.”

Sebastian’s smile turned wolfish. “Let’s just say Marcus might want to read the fine print about ‘beneficial ownership’ a bit more carefully.”

The Peninsula’s Royal Suite transformed into Manhattan’s most exclusive fashion showroom by eleven. Racks of couture lined the marble foyer while Sebastian lounged on a chaise, watching his wife navigate the fashion warfare with the same precision she’d shown in the boardroom.

“The Valentino is…” Sophia tilted her head, studying a blood-red creation.

“Too obvious,” Sebastian supplied. “Though that new Dior…”

Maria Grazia Chiuri’s latest masterpiece hung like liquid revenge in the corner. A gown that somehow managed to be both aristocratic and lethal – black silk that moved like market predictions, with strategic cutouts that would make Olivia’s standard-issue Valentino look positively matronly.

“Now that,” Sophia purred, “has potential.”

“For the gala,” a voice announced from the doorway, “might I suggest something even more… decisive?”

They turned to find Zuhair Murad himself standing there, a garment bag in his hands. “When Sebastian called, I was on my private jet. Some opportunities are too delicious to miss.”

He unzipped the bag with theatrical flourish, revealing a creation that made even the jaded attendants gasp. Liquid gold and midnight shadows, constructed with the kind of architectural precision that could bring down empires.

“Oh,” Sophia breathed, “Marcus won’t know what hit him.”

“That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” Sebastian rose, adjusting his cufflinks. “Though we should discuss how you plan to time the contract cancellation announcement.”

“Actually,” she smiled, running her fingers along the Murad creation, “I have something rather special in mind for that.”

Part 3: Diamond Destinies

After their successful shopping raid inside the Peninsula Royal Suite, Sebastian guided Sophia toward Van Cleef & Arpels’ flagship store in Zhang Global Plaza. “Every revenge outfit needs the perfect accessories,” he’d insisted with aristocratic mischief.

The boutique’s crystal doors had barely closed behind them when a familiar voice shattered the perfumed air.

“Sebastian?” Elizabeth Cavendish’s tone dripped with calculated surprise. “Shouldn’t you be at the emergency board meeting?”

She stood by the high jewelry cases, wrapped in Hermès and old money disdain. The two saleswomen attending her immediately straightened, their expressions shifting from professional to predatory as they recognized the society drama unfolding.

“Elizabeth.” Sebastian’s voice carried perfect aristocratic frost. “Shopping for the merger celebration that won’t happen?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Elizabeth moved closer, her Louboutins clicking like weapons. “Once your parents finish annulling this… unfortunate situation, we can proceed as planned.”

The saleswomen exchanged knowing looks as Sophia browsed a display of sapphires, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

“Nothing to say, little influencer?” Elizabeth pressed. “No witty captions about luxury jewelry?”

“Madam,” one saleswoman stepped forward, positioning herself between Sophia and the display. “These pieces are by private appointment only. Perhaps Tiffany’s silver collection would be more… appropriate?”

Sophia continued studying the jewels as if they hadn’t spoken, her poise unwavering. With deliberate grace, she reached into her Chanel bag, withdrawing something that caught the light like a declaration of war.

The black diamond card – Zhang Global’s most exclusive offering – dangled from her perfectly manicured fingers.

“A black diamond card?” Elizabeth’s laugh echoed off the boutique’s crystal walls. “Oh, darling. Did you really think anyone would believe this pathetic attempt?”

The first saleswoman, Madame Dubois, stepped forward with the kind of authority that came from decades of serving Manhattan’s elite. “I’ve seen all four existing cards. This is clearly a counterfeit.”

Sophia maintained her serene smile, the card still extended like a challenge. Sebastian shifted slightly, but she squeezed his hand, silently asking him to wait.

“This is beyond embarrassing,” Elizabeth drawled. “First, you trick Sebastian into marriage, and now you’re pretending to have Zhang Global’s most exclusive card? The audacity.”

“Actually,” the second saleswoman interjected, “there are only three cards. And I personally know each holder.”

Madame Dubois reached for the card, her French manicure glinting. “This is a serious offense. Attempting to use forged credentials in Van Cleef & Arpels—”

“I’ll need to confiscate this immediately,” her colleague declared, snatching the card. “And of course, we’ll have to call security. Perhaps even the police—”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice that cut through the boutique carried the quiet authority of someone who controlled the most expensive real estate in Manhattan. Richard Lee, Managing Director of Zhang Global Plaza, stood in the doorway, his bespoke suit and jade cufflinks gleaming under crystal chandeliers.

The saleswoman’s scissors froze millimeters from Sophia’s black diamond card.

The Van Cleef & Arpels boutique froze in tableau – Elizabeth Cavendish in her Hermès, the saleswomen with their scissors poised, and Richard Lee radiating quiet power from the doorway.

“Mr. Lee,” Madame Dubois recovered first, lowering the scissors. “We were just about to report a case of fraud—”

“Were you?” Richard’s voice could have cut diamonds. “How fascinating. Do tell me how you planned to explain destroying the personal card of Zhang Global’s heir?”

The scissors clattered to the marble floor.

“Heir?” Elizabeth’s perfect complexion went ashen. “That’s impossible. Lawrence Zhang’s daughter is—”

“Standing right here,” Richard finished smoothly. “Though I must say, Miss Cavendish, your family’s recent market positions are looking rather… precarious. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Sebastian watched the scene unfold with growing appreciation, his hand still clasped in Sophia’s.

“This is absurd,” Elizabeth attempted recovery. “Everyone knows Sophia Zhang is nothing but a party-loving—”

“A party-loving heiress who just orchestrated the most significant financial coup of the decade?” Richard suggested mildly. “Do check your phone, Miss Cavendish. The markets are particularly interesting this afternoon.”

Madame Dubois had begun to tremble. “Mademoiselle Zhang, I… we…”

“The sapphire collection,” Sophia spoke for the first time, her voice carrying that deadly quiet. “I’ll take it all.”