The billionaires secret son

Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret

Cassandra

For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk. The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for. "You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip." My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father. I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth. But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move. "Get dressed. We're going to a party."

Modern Modern Revenge Drama Revenge Female-centered

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Emily Charlotte polished the glass with precision, her eyes scanning the crowded bar. The Billionaire's Club was buzzing with the usual Friday night crowd: wealthy entrepreneurs, socialites, and the occasional celebrity. As a bartender, Emily had grown accustomed to the glamorous chaos.

Just then, a commotion erupted near the entrance. Harrison Grayson, the young billionaire, stumbled into the club, his tailored suit disheveled and his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as he made a beeline for the bar.

"What's the strongest drink you've got?" Harrison slurred, his voice low and menacing.

Emily's instincts screamed a warning, but she kept her cool, sliding a glass of fine scotch across the counter. "On the house, Mr. Grayson," she said, her tone neutral.

Harrison's gaze locked onto hers, a spark of surprise flickering in his eyes. For a moment, Emily thought she saw something else there, something almost... vulnerable.

Then, in a movement that made Emily's heart skip a beat, Harrison reached into his pocket and pulled out a chequebook. "I'll give you $100,000," he said, his voice low and husky, "to spend one night with me."

Emily's eyes widened as the room around her melted away, leaving only the two of them, suspended in a world of possibility and danger.

Emily's mind reeled as she processed Harrison's outrageous offer. She had dealt with her fair share of wealthy, entitled patrons, but this was something else entirely.

"You're drunk, Mr. Grayson," Emily said, trying to keep her tone light. "I think you should go home and sleep it off."

Harrison's gaze never wavered. "I'm perfectly sober, Emily," he said, his voice dripping with intensity. "And I always get what I want."

Emily felt a shiver run down her spine as Harrison's eyes seemed to bore into her soul. She knew she should refuse him, but a part of her was tempted by the promise of that $100,000.

Just then, Ethan Wellington, Emily's boyfriend, appeared at her side, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Is everything okay here?" he asked, his tone firm.

Harrison's gaze flickered to Ethan, and for a moment, Emily thought she saw a flash of anger. But then, his expression smoothed out, and he smiled a cold, calculated smile.

"Everything's fine," Harrison said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just making a business proposition to Emily."

Ethan's eyes never left Harrison's face. "I don't think Emily is interested," he said, his tone firm.

Harrison's smile grew wider. "We'll see about that," he said, before turning and stumbling out of the club.

As the door closed behind Harrison, Emily let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Thanks for stepping in," she said to Ethan.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Emily hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just Harrison being his usual, arrogant self," she said, trying to downplay the encounter.

But as she glanced around the club, Emily couldn't shake the feeling that Harrison's proposal was only the beginning of a very complicated, very dangerous game.

Earlier that evening, Emily stormed into their small apartment, slamming the door behind her. Ethan looked up from the couch, where he was scrolling through his phone.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"You know exactly what's wrong," Emily snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "The bills, Ethan. They're piling up. Rent, utilities, credit cards... we're drowning in debt."

Ethan sighed and set his phone aside. "I know, okay? I'm trying to find a new job."

"Trying?" Emily's voice rose. "You've been 'trying' for months. Meanwhile, I'm working double shifts just to keep us afloat."

Ethan's expression turned defensive. "Hey, I'm doing the best I can."

"Really?" Emily's eyes narrowed. "Because it looks like you're doing a lot better than 'your best' when it comes to spending time with Sarah."

Ethan's face went blank. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Ethan," Emily spat. "I've seen the way you look at her. I've seen the way you flirt with her. And I've seen the texts on your phone."

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