Shattered Ivory

I was the real heiress, the true daughter, but the imposter, that fake, she tormented me, forced me to kneel on the ground, unable to even lift my head.

Then, my “knight in shining armor,” Ethan, stepped in to rescue me.

After that, I chased after him for seven long years, enduring the whispers of "shameless" from others. I didn't care about them; all I cared about was him.

He became my fiancé, but he seemed to have transformed, constantly criticizing me for not being sophisticated enough, not proper enough.

He fell for that two-faced, usurping fake.

When I was being humiliated, practically suffocating, he just stood by and watched.

My grandma, who raised me, needed medical care, and I begged him for help. He chose to believe the imposter's lies, decided to teach me a lesson, make me learn my place.

Later, Grandma died, I was battered and bruised, a finger was gone, shattering my lifelong dream of playing the piano.

I finally learned my place, but I didn't want him anymore.

1.

It was the day of Grandma’s funeral.

But peace was the last thing I could have.

I was kicked to my knees, beaten and humiliated, the pain was unbearable.

But what hurt even more was knowing Grandma, who suffered her whole life, couldn't even rest peacefully. Her funeral wasn't even sacred.

If she could see her granddaughter, whom she loved so much, being treated like this, it would break her heart.

I roughly wiped away the blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.

Abandoning the pride I'd always clung to, I finally trembled out my true identity.

The loan shark paused, then glared at me. “You lie to me, and you're dead, got it?”

He immediately called my fiancé, Ethan, to confirm it.

After a few seconds of silence, the man’s voice came, cold and arrogant. “There’s only one heiress in the Miller family, and that’s Mia.”

Enraged, the loan shark wanted to tear me to shreds. Driven by a twisted need to make me pay for his embarrassment, he subjected me to every vile tactic he could think of.

The man I loved did not come to my rescue; instead, he dragged me further into hell.

The thug even showed me a video to rub salt in the wound.

In the video, my fiancé, Ethan, and that imposter, that fake, were all smiles, like a golden couple.

They were lovey-dovey, draped in expensive clothes, flitting through some high-society event, the internet eating it up.

And me, the real Miller heiress, was being held down, beaten like an animal.

“Dream on, girl! You can’t even lie straight! You better cough up the cash today, or I’ll take your damn life!”

The lead thug took a long drag from his cigarette and then ruthlessly pressed the burning end into my arm.

He even threatened to scatter Grandma’s ashes.

I clung to her urn, my body taking a beating like a punching bag.

By the time I made it back to the city, I was a wreck.

My clothes were torn, my feet were bare, toes red and raw.

I was a joke, the topic of gossip in all the social circles.

The Miller family's sup...