The Heiress on the Corner ✨ππ
The Heiress on the Corner ✨ππ
BOOK DESCRIPTION π
The chandelier threw scattered rainbows across the marble floor, flickering like small rebellions on an otherwise perfect stage. Twelve-year-old Sophia sat rigid on the antique settee, her back straight, hands folded like a portrait. The pale blue dress her mother had chosen pressed against her skin like a costume stitched from someone else’s life. She looked like a doll. Beautiful. Breakable. Not quite alive.ππΏ
“Remember, Sophia,” her mother Eleanor whispered, leaning down without warmth. “The Worthington’s are old money. Very old. Their support could do wonders for your father’s project.”
Sophia nodded, though the words felt like smoke—floating just out of reach. Old money. New money. It all seemed like the same cold currency to her. She didn’t know what it meant, only that her parents changed around certain people. Stiffened.π π Smiled more, but laughed less.
“And whatever you do,” Eleanor added, fussing with Sophia’s already perfect hair, “don’t mention that guitar nonsense. The Worthington’s appreciate real music. Classical. Maybe offer to play that Chopin piece? The one you nearly got right last month.”ππ«
Before Sophia could respond, the doorbell rang. Eleanor’s face snapped into its “society smile”—a dazzling expression with no heat behind it. Her father appeared from his study, straightening his tie like a man armouring up for battle. They looked like royalty. Cold, curated royalty.π❇️
The next two hours passed in carefully measured charm. Sophia played her part without a crack: smiling at the right jokes, answering questions with soft, practised poise, pressing Chopin’s keys as though the piano itself were judging her worth. The adults beamed, murmuring approval like distant gods.π π±
But that night, long after the crystal glasses were rinsed and the house had fallen silent, Sophia crept to her closet and pulled out the old guitar. Her grandmother’s guitar. The only person who’d ever looked at her and seen more than a well-mannered accessory.π️π She sat on the floor in the dark, strumming softly—barely more than a whisper—but it was enough. The tension in her chest loosened, and for the first time all day, she exhaled.
She didn’t realise it then, but something had shifted. A hairline fracture in the perfect porcelain. A silent refusal. A seed of rebellion wrapped in six steel strings.ππ
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AVAILABLE ON AMAZON π️
Available in Kindle & Paperback version. ππ±
https://www.amazon.com/Heiress-Corner-Elena-Hart-ebook/dp/B0F8BJZT86
✒️Authors: @hartelena620 ✨✍️
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