The Scapegoat Heiress's Grand Comeback

I gave up my family's fortune and a political dynasty for my fiancé of five years, Hoyt. I chose him over everything for a simple life.

But when his socialite mistress, Bella, got a DUI, he demanded I take the fall. When I told him I was pregnant, he ordered me to get an abortion.

"I'm in love with Bella," he said, his eyes cold. "I always have been."

He brought her into our home. At a fundraiser, she tripped me, and as I lay bleeding on the floor, Hoyt walked away. His mother then had me abducted from the hospital, and in a cold, abandoned warehouse, I lost our child.

They took everything from me-my love, my future, my baby. They thought they had erased me, the quiet, unassuming grant writer they saw as a convenient scapegoat.

They were wrong.

At their glamorous engagement party, I made my entrance. And with me, my grandfather, Senator Abelardo Brown. They had no idea who they'd just declared war on.

Chapter 1

"You need to take the blame for Bella's DUI, Flora."

Hoyt said it like he was asking me to pick up dry cleaning. His voice was calm, almost bored, as if this was a perfectly reasonable request.

I stared at him, my heart already hammering against my ribs. My fiancé of five years, the man I' d given up everything for, looked at me with an unsettling blankness in his usually expressive eyes.

He repeated slowly, "It's for the best. For everyone."

His words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I felt a cold dread spread through my veins. This wasn't the Hoyt I knew, or thought I knew. This man was a stranger, wrapped in my fiancé's skin.

"Are you serious?" I managed to choke out. My voice sounded thin, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.

He nodded, a sharp, decisive movement. "Completely. Bella's career is just taking off. A DUI would destroy her. And mine, by association. You… you're out of the limelight. No one would even notice."

His eyes, once filled with so much warmth for me, now held a calculating, cold glint. He saw me not as a partner, but as a conveniently invisible scapegoat.

"It's a minor offense, Flora," he continued, leaning forward slightly. "A fine, maybe some community service. Nothing you can't handle. We'll ride it out, and then everything will go back to normal. Better than normal."

My hands started to tremble, the mug of lukewarm coffee I was holding clattering against the saucer. "My record, Hoyt. My reputation. What about my career as a grant writer? What about the non-profit I've dedicated five years to?"

He waved a dismissive hand, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Please, Flora. It' s not like you're shaping policy or running for office. It's grant writing. You can do that anywhere. No one cares about a grant writer's minor traffic infraction."

A sudden, fierce surge of anger ignited in my chest. It felt foreign,