Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO-Chapter 69: Lost and Found

RAINE DROP BELMONT

Grandpa Belmont’s 85th birthday bash was in full swing, and the "old house" was drowning in champagne and pretension.

I adjusted the cuffs of my suit—black, tailored, and not a tux, because screw dress codes—and scanned the crowd. Ash City’s elite circled like hungry sharks around each other. Lawyers. CEOs. Old-money vultures who’d pick a carcass clean for a 2% stake in anything.

And me.

Raine Drop.

Or—technically—Raine Belmont now.

A waiter glided past with a tray of champagne flutes. I snagged one and downed it in a single gulp. Liquid courage, or liquid stupidity. Either worked.

"Slow down, kid. You’re not at a frat party."

Grandma Nettie materialized at my side, her bony elbow jabbing my ribs. She was wearing a dress—an actual dress—which meant she was either dying (again) or plotting something (always). The blue sheath swallowed her frail frame, but she looked ... sparkling. For a minute, I could think of her as healthy. Someone who wasn’t destined to leave me in this world alone.

"You look nice," I told her.

She scowled. "Rub it in, why don’t you." She plucked a shrimp puff from a passing tray and popped it into her mouth. "Where’s Daniel? Hiding from his own party?"

I nodded toward the grand staircase, where Grandpa Belmont acted like a king holding court. His silver hair gleamed under the chandelier light. The perfect patriarch.

And beside him—

Vanessa.

My cousin.

The real Belmont heir.

She stood at his elbow, sleek and polished in a midnight-blue gown, her blonde hair coiled into an elegant twist. The diamond at her throat winked under the lights, a tiny, expensive noose.

A hush fell over the crowd as Grandpa Belmont cleared his throat. The room stilled, every sycophant turning toward him like sunflowers to the sun.

"Thank you all for coming," he began, voice smooth as aged whiskey. "Eighty-five years is a long time to be on this earth—long enough to know what truly matters."

His gaze flicked to me.

Oh, here we go.

"Family," he continued. "Legacy. And tonight, I’m proud to introduce someone who represents both."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"I have a newly discovered grandson. His name is Raine," Grandpa said. "Tonight, I’m honored to formally welcome him into the Belmont family."

The room erupted in polite applause.

I didn’t move.

This was what Grandma Nettie had wanted. What she’d fought for. My name. My place.

Grandpa beckoned me forward.

Every step toward that staircase was filled with whispers.

"That’s him?"

"Nettie Drop’s bastard grandson."

"Do you think he’ll get a seat on the board?"

I reached the base of the stairs. Grandpa’s hand landed on my shoulder, heavy as a crown.

"To family," Grandpa toasted, raising his glass.

The crowd echoed him.

I forced a grin, clinking my glass against his. "To family."

The applause died down, but the weight of a hundred eyes stayed glued to me. I could practically hear the calculations running behind every polite smile—How much is he worth? What does this mean for the will?

Vanessa stepped forward. "You look like you’re going to pass out."

"Maybe. It’s overwhelming."

She patted my shoulder. "You’ll get used to it."

I didn’t think I would. No. I didn’t think I wanted to.

Grandpa Belmont cleared his throat, reclaiming the room’s attention as he launched into speech about legacy and tradition. I tuned him out, scanning the crowd instead.

That’s when I saw her.

A woman in a yellow dress.

She was slipping along the edges of the room, her steps too deliberate to be casual. Sunlight-bright fabric against all that dark wood—she stood out, but not in the way these people usually did. Not like she wanted to be seen.

"That woman," I muttered. "Yellow dress. You know her?"

Vanessa’s gaze zeroed in on the female. "Huh. She looks familiar, but ... I don’t know for sure."

"I’m going to talk to her," I said. I handed my cousin my empty champagne glass and headed toward the sunshine girl.

The woman in the yellow dress moved like she was trying to be invisible—which, in a room full of peacocking socialites, only made her stand out more. Her dark hair was piled into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face, and those big, round glasses kept sliding down her nose. She kept pushing them back up absently, like it was a habit she didn’t even notice anymore.

Nerdy? Maybe.

Adorable? Absolutely.

I cut through the crowd, ignoring the way people turned to stare—some curious, some judgmental. I didn’t care. The Belmont name might be new to me, but I’d spent my whole life not giving a damn what people thought.

She was near the grand piano now, pretending to admire it while her fingers twitched at her sides. Not the usual rich-girl posture—no practiced elegance, no bored detachment. She was thinking about something. Hard.

I sidled up beside her. "You look like you’re planning a heist."

She startled, glasses slipping again. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. "Excuse me?"

I grinned. "Just saying. Most people at these things are either schmoozing or getting drunk. You?" I tilted my head. "You’re casing the joint."

A flicker of panic crossed her face before she smoothed it into a scowl. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

I leaned against the piano. "So, what’s your name?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "Lena."

"Lena," I repeated. It suited her—soft but stubborn. "I’m Raine."

"I know." She adjusted her glasses. "The new Belmont grandson. Everyone’s talking about you."

"Yeah? What are they saying?"

"That you’re either a con artist or a miracle." She studied me with the cutest scowl on her face. "I’m leaning toward con artist."

***|***|***|***|***

VANESSA BELMONT

Eighty-five years old, and my grandfather still knew how to make an entrance.

Daniel Belmont stood in the middle of the grand staircase, his silver hair catching the chandelier light, his smile warm enough to bake cookies. The room hushed. Even the waiters paused mid-step.

A warm hand slid into mine, fingers intertwining.

"You’re gorgeous," Nathan murmured, his breath brushing my ear.

I leaned back into him just enough to feel the solid weight of his chest against my shoulder. "So are you."

He chuckled then pressed a kiss to my temple. "We’re staying here for the night?"

"Yes."

Nathan lightly bit my earlobe. "You’re in trouble, Neenie."

"Oh yeah? Guess we’ll see."

Downstairs, the crowd erupted in polite applause as Grandpa launched into his "what truly matters in life" spiel. I tuned it out—I’d heard it a dozen times before—and focused instead on the way Nathan’s thumb traced idle circles over my knuckles.

Grandpa’s voice cut through my thoughts. "—proud to introduce someone who represents both family and legacy."

My gaze slid to Raine, who stood near the back of the room like a shadow in his well-tailored black suit. He looked uncomfortable, and I couldn’t blame him. Being a Belmont was no easy task.

Grandpa gestured him forward. "My grandson, Raine Belmont."

The applause was dutiful. The whispers less so.

"Is that Nettie Drop’s—"

"—wow, he’s handsome—"

"—do you think Daniel will give him shares?"

Raine reached the base of the stairs, his expression carefully blank. Grandpa clapped him on the shoulder, and Raine offered a forced smile.

Welcome to the circus, cousin.

Nathan squeezed my hand. "You okay?"

"Perfect."

Grandpa raised his glass. "To family."

The room echoed him. Raine’s glass clinked against Grandpa’s.

Nathan leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "You know what this party needs?"

"A fire alarm?" I nodded toward Ollie, who stood in a corner staring openly at Leonardo Annison. His expression was one of intense longing. My heart squeezed. Was Ollie falling for the man?

Ollie’s usual easy confidence appeared to be replaced by an aching vulnerability. He looked like he wanted to reach out, but Leo Annison—tall, effortlessly elegant, currently surrounded by a flock of admirers—hadn’t even noticed him yet.

Ollie was usually the one who flirted without consequence, the guy who walked away unscathed. But right now? He looked like a man halfway off a cliff, unsure whether to jump or cling to the edge.

Nathan nudged me. "We should intervene."

"And say what? ’Hey, Ollie, stop eye-fucking the heir to the Annison fortune?’"

Ollie finally seemed to realize we were staring. His spine straightened, and he strode over with forced nonchalance—but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

"Don’t," he warned as he reached us, pointing a finger at Nathan. "Whatever you’re about to say, don’t."

Nathan held up his hands in mock surrender. "I was just admiring the view." He tilted his head toward Leo. "As were you."

I swirled my champagne, thoughtful. "You could always just talk to him."

Ollie shot me a withering look. "Brilliant advice. Why didn’t I think of that?"

"Because you’re too busy mentally composing sonnets about his jawline," I said.

Nathan grinned. "Or his—"

"Finish that sentence and I’ll stab you with a shrimp fork," Ollie hissed.

I laughed, but my chest ached for him. This wasn’t just some passing infatuation—Ollie was gone for this guy.

Across the room, Leo finally glanced our way. His gaze lingered—just for a second—on Ollie before flicking away.

Ollie inhaled sharply.

Oh. It looked like Leo had some feelings of his own.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m