The Billionaire's Rightful Heir

Rosalie Bennett balanced the folded towels against her hip as she approached the master bedroom. The Sterling mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon. Most of the staff were busy downstairs, and the housekeeper had asked her to deliver fresh towels.

She raised her hand to knock, but a woman's sharp voice stopped her.

"You promised me this would never become a problem, Tristan."

Rosalie froze. She recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Mrs. Vivienne Sterling, the billionaire's wife.

A man answered impatiently. "I have kept quiet for twenty-one years. What more do you want from me?"

"Lower your voice. Do you want someone to hear you?"

"Perhaps you should have thought about that before calling me here."

"I did not call you to cause trouble."

"You called because Damian is asking questions, and you know why."

Rosalie glanced down the empty corridor. She should have knocked and announced herself. Instead, the mention of Damian's name held her still.

"Sebastian is my son," the man continued. "You cannot keep pretending otherwise."

Rosalie's breath caught.

Sebastian was the young master, the child everyone believed belonged to Mr. Sterling. She had watched him grow up surrounded by expensive toys, private tutors and servants.

Vivienne's reply came quickly. "He is Damian's son in every way that matters."

"That is not what I said."

"And I am telling you not to say it again." Her voice dropped. "Damian has raised him. He has given him his name, his home and a future. If the truth comes out, everything will collapse."

"You mean everything you have taken."

"Be careful, Tristan."

"No. You be careful. I want what you promised me."

Rosalie tightened her grip on the towels. She knew she was hearing something she was never meant to hear, but she could not make herself move.

"What exactly do you expect?" Vivienne demanded.

"I expect you to remember that I am Sebastian's father. One day, he will inherit Damian's company. I will not spend my life watching another man's name attached to my son while you enjoy the benefits."

"You will get nothing if you destroy us."

"I helped you keep this secret. I deserve something."

"You were paid to stay away."

"And the money is gone."

Rosalie's stomach twisted. The man was demanding money from Mrs. Sterling, and he was claiming to be Sebastian's real father.

"Damian is becoming suspicious," Tristan said. "He has started questioning things he used to accept."

"Then I will make sure he stops."

"And if he discovers the truth?"

"He will not. I handled the hospital records. Nothing will lead him to the truth."

Rosalie stared at the closed door.

Sebastian was not Mr. Sterling's biological son. Mrs. Sterling had deceived her husband for years, and Tristan was the child's real father.

"Are you certain the records cannot be traced?" Tristan asked.

"I took care of everything. Damian has never suspected anything, and I intend to keep it that way."

"You sound very confident."

"I have protected this family for twenty-one years. I will not lose my position because you suddenly want to play father."

Rosalie knew she had to leave. She took a cautious step backwards, hoping to return downstairs before anyone noticed her.

But the towels shifted in her arms.

Her elbow struck a decorative vase on the small table beside the door. It rocked, tipped over and crashed onto the polished floor.

Rosalie gasped.

Inside the bedroom, the conversation stopped.

"Who is there?" Vivienne demanded.

Rosalie stared at the broken pieces. Her hands trembled as the bedroom door opened.

Vivienne stood in the doorway. Her expression changed from irritation to suspicion as she looked from Rosalie to the shattered vase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I brought the fresh towels, ma'am." Rosalie struggled to keep her voice steady. "I am sorry about the vase. I did not mean to break it."

Vivienne ignored the towels. She stepped into the corridor and pulled the door almost closed behind her.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I just arrived, ma'am."

"Do not lie to me."

"I am telling the truth."

Vivienne moved closer. Rosalie could smell her perfume, but fear made it difficult to breathe.

"Did you hear anything?"

Rosalie lowered her eyes. She wanted to deny everything and leave, but the suspicion on Vivienne's face frightened her.

"I heard the vase fall," she whispered.

"That is not what I asked."

For a moment, neither woman spoke. Rosalie could hear movement inside the bedroom. Tristan was still there, listening.

Vivienne's voice became quiet.

"You are an employee in this house. Your duty is to do your work and keep your eyes and ears where they belong. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"If you heard something, you will forget it. You will not repeat it to anyone-not the housekeeper, not the other staff, and certainly not my husband."

Rosalie nodded, though her thoughts were racing.

Vivienne studied her face. "How much did you hear?"

Rosalie forced herself to meet the woman's eyes. "Nothing important, ma'am."

Vivienne's lips tightened.

"Let us hope that is true."

She turned towards the bedroom, then paused.

"Clean up the broken vase. And remember, this conversation never happened."

The door closed.

Rosalie remained in the corridor, surrounded by porcelain pieces. She had come upstairs to deliver towels, but she had stumbled upon a secret that could destroy the Sterling family.

Sebastian was not Damian's biological son.

And now, Vivienne knew Rosalie had been standing outside the door.

Rosalie bent to gather the larger pieces, but her fingers would not stop shaking. A sharp edge nicked her thumb.

She had worked in the Sterling mansion for six months. She needed the salary for her mother's medication. She kept to herself and avoided gossip.

But this was no ordinary mistake.

She had heard a secret involving the family's only heir. If Vivienne believed Rosalie might expose her, would she simply dismiss her? Or would she find another way to silence her?

Rosalie glanced at the closed bedroom door. Faint voices continued inside. She collected the broken pieces and placed them on the tray.

She had to act as though nothing had happened. She could not afford to lose her job or risk her mother's care.

Yet one question kept returning.

If Sebastian was Tristan's son, what would happen when Damian finally discovered the truth?

Rosalie carried the tray towards the servants' staircase, careful not to show her fear. She knew she should forget what she had heard. But some secrets were too dangerous to forget.