The Disowned Heiress And Her Billionaire Protector

The rain battered the stained glass windows of the Valenzuela estate. The sound was deafening. It sounded like heavy stones hitting the glass, completely drowning out the violence happening inside the grand hall.

Two massive private bodyguards twisted Tina's arms behind her back. They dragged her out of the second-floor corridor. Her shoes scraped against the expensive carpet, leaving long, ugly marks.

Tina kicked her legs. She fought with every ounce of strength in her small body. Her arms screamed in pain, but she did not let go of the object against her chest. It was a rosewood urn carved with lily patterns. She curled her body around it, turning herself into a human shield.

The bodyguard on her left grunted in annoyance. He shoved her forward. The force was too much. Tina tumbled down the last few steps of the grand staircase. She hit the marble floor of the hall with a sickening thud.

A sharp pain exploded in her knees. It traveled straight up her spine. Tina bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. She refused to scream. Instead, she immediately curled into a tight ball on the cold floor, wrapping both arms securely around the rosewood urn.

Cathi Finley sat in the single leather sofa by the massive fireplace. She crossed her legs. She slowly swirled the bourbon in her crystal glass. The amber liquid hit the ice cubes, making a soft clinking sound.

Cathi reached into her designer bag. She pulled out a legal document stamped with a heavy red seal. She threw it onto the floor right in front of Tina's face. She smiled. It was a cold, practiced smile. She announced that as of this minute, Tina was stripped of all family rights and evicted from the property.

Tina slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her chest heaved as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. She stared at Cathi and asked how she could legally alter the trust fund her grandfather had left specifically for her.

Footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs. Felicia Roberts walked down. She wore an expensive silk robe that trailed behind her. She looked down at Tina and laughed. She called Tina a nameless stray dog who never belonged in this house anyway.

Felicia reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked right up to where Tina was curled on the floor. She raised her foot. She drove the sharp, metal heel of her stiletto directly into Tina's already bleeding knee.

Tina flinched. Her whole body jerked from the fresh wave of agony. But she did not look away. She kept her eyes locked on Felicia, her gaze burning with pure, unfiltered hatred.

Felicia hated that look. It made her stomach twist with anger. She bent down suddenly and grabbed the edge of the rosewood urn in Tina's arms. She yanked it hard.

Tina's survival instinct kicked in. She squeezed the box tighter against her chest. She lunged forward and