The Billionaire’s Hidden Heiress

Six Years Later — Manhattan

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.

Aurora Langston stepped into the glass-walled executive floor of Thorne Enterprises like she owned the place. In a way, she would—soon. She wore crimson like war paint: a figure-hugging dress that flowed like silk fire, with heels that echoed like a heartbeat on the marble floor.

Heads turned. Whispers followed. But she didn’t flinch.

Her name wasn’t Aurora Langston anymore. Not here. Here, she was Aurora Devereaux, the enigmatic investor from Europe who had just acquired a controlling stake in Thorne Enterprises through a web of silent partners and offshore shells.

She wasn’t the girl from Queens anymore.

She was the storm they never saw coming.

"Miss Devereaux," said a startled assistant, almost spilling his coffee. "Mr. Thorne wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon—"

“I like to keep people on their toes,” she replied smoothly, brushing past him.

The office door at the end of the hall loomed like a final gate. Through its frosted glass, she could see the shadow of a man she hadn’t seen since he destroyed her world.

Damon Thorne.

CEO. Billionaire. Betrayer.

He had once kissed her in secret under moonlight and crushed her family in daylight.

She opened the door without knocking.

Inside, Damon stood facing the window, hands in his pockets, dressed in a dark suit tailored to perfection. The city sprawled beneath him, glittering and oblivious.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, voice velvet-smooth.

He turned.

Time didn’t dull his effect. That chiseled jaw, the cold precision in his eyes, the air of authority—he was every inch the man who’d stolen her breath and shattered her innocence. But he didn’t recognize her.

Of course not. Why would he?

He took a step toward her, assessing her like a man sizing up a threat—or an opportunity.

“Miss Devereaux,” he said slowly, “You’re earlier than expected.”

Aurora smiled. “I don’t like waiting.”

Damon’s lips twitched. “Neither do I.”

She offered her hand. He took it. His touch burned.

“So,” he said, his gaze sharpening, “What exactly do you want from Thorne Enterprises, Miss Devereaux?”

She met his stare head-on.

Everything.

But she only said, “A partnership, of course. And maybe…a little fun along the way.”

He smirked, intrigued. “Be careful what you wish for.”

So should you, she thought.

Because Damon Thorne had no idea he was standing across from the woman he had once broken—and the mother of the child he never knew existed.