The Billionaire's Unwanted Genius Heiress

Arthur Kowalski shoved open the wooden door of the Pine Ridge cabin.

The rusted hinges let out a loud squeak. Arthur stepped back half a pace, bowing his head respectfully to clear the narrow entrance for the woman behind him.

"Watch your step, Mrs. Calhoun," murmured Arthur, the Calhoun family's longtime butler. "The private investigators triple-checked the DNA match. Miss Alison has been living out here on her own."

Eugenia Calhoun stepped across the threshold in her designer high heels, pressing a silk-gloved hand to her nose. The air inside the cramped cabin smelled of damp wood and wild herbs.

"Eighteen years in a godforsaken backwater," Eugenia murmured, sweeping a disdainful gaze over the shabby room before her eyes landed on the girl lounging on the torn sofa. "Are you Alison?"

Alison Calhoun kept her scuffed combat boots propped up on the low wooden table, a black baseball cap pulled low over her forehead. Between her pale fingers, a silver scalpel twirled in steady, effortless circles.

With a casual flick of her wrist, the blade vanished up her sleeve, and she lifted her chin.

When Eugenia saw the girl's face clearly, her breath hitched.

Alison had sharp, striking features and a pair of cold amber eyes. She looked nothing like Eugenia. Instead, that fearless posture and those exact defiant eyes looked just like Vivian--the rebellious woman Eugenia's husband, Harrison, had loved obsessively before their marriage.

Eugenia had always despised women she couldn't control. Seeing her old rival's shadow in her own flesh and blood set her teeth on edge.

"I'm Alison," the girl said, her voice quiet and slightly raspy from lack of sleep. "You walked into my house without knocking."

Sensing the tension, Arthur quickly stepped forward, holding out a sealed leather folder.

"Miss Alison, I'm Arthur, the butler at the Calhoun estate in New York. This is Mrs. Calhoun, your biological mother. Eighteen years ago, there was a mix-up at the hospital, and you were separated from us. Mrs. Calhoun traveled all the way from New York today to bring you home."

Eugenia shoved the bitter memories of Vivian aside and lifted her chin. It was time to set the ground rules.

"Take your boots off the table, Alison," Eugenia said, her tone stiff and critical. "I see nobody taught you proper manners in these mountains. Now that we've found you, you'll leave these wild backwoods habits behind. The Calhoun family has strict standards."

Alison dropped her boots to the floor and stood up. Tall and slender, she carried herself with a cool, unbothered poise that rubbed Eugenia the wrong way.

Alison reached down, grabbed a faded canvas backpack, and slung it over one shoulder.

"Since the paperwork's done, let's go," Alison said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her dark hoodie.

She walked straight toward the open door, passing Eugenia.

Eugenia stared at the girl's retreating back, her fingers tightening around her leather handbag. She had expected a poor country girl to weep with gratitude upon seeing her wealthy mother. Instead, Alison's total indifference felt like a slap in the face.

"Hold on!" Eugenia called out, turning around sharply. "You plan on bringing that filthy canvas bag into my house? Throw it out right now! I'll buy you proper things in New York."

Alison paused on the porch steps, looking back over her shoulder with cool amber eyes. "My things are in this bag. If it bothers you, you can drive back to New York alone. I never begged you to find me."

Eugenia's breath caught in outrage. "How dare you speak to your mother like that!"

"Mrs. Calhoun, please," Arthur murmured quickly, guiding Eugenia toward the black armored SUV idling on the dirt road. "Miss Alison has been on her own for a long time. Give her some time to adjust."

Tight-lipped and fuming, Eugenia climbed into the backseat. Alison was already sitting in the opposite corner, leaning her head against the window with her eyes closed.

As the SUV started down the bumpy mountain trail, Eugenia stared at Alison's cold profile. The longer she looked at the girl's stubborn jawline, the more irritated she grew.

"Listen to me carefully," Eugenia said, laying down the law.

"When we get back to New York, you will live by my rules. While you were missing, your father and I adopted a daughter named Brook. Brook has attended the finest private schools since she was a child. She is gentle, obedient, and accomplished--everything a proper young lady should be."

Alison kept her eyes shut, offering a faint, indifferent hum. "Good for her."

Eugenia's frown deepened at the dismissive reply. "Brook is the pride of our family. Don't try to compete with her or take what belongs to her. And drop that aloof attitude! No family in our circle tolerates a girl with a wild temper."

Alison opened her eyes slowly and looked at Eugenia. "Mrs. Calhoun, I have zero interest in your family's money, and I don't care about Brook. Keep her out of my way, and we'll get along just fine."

"You ungrateful little--!" Eugenia's voice spiked. "I am your mother, not 'Mrs. Calhoun'! Why did I even bother coming to this godforsaken place for someone with ice in her veins?"

Regret knotted in Eugenia's stomach. Bringing back a defiant daughter who was the spitting image of her husband's old flame was a mistake.

Still, glancing at Alison's pale face, Eugenia forced herself to take a deep breath. The girl was her own flesh and blood, and the press already knew the Calhouns were searching for their lost child. She had to put up with it for now.

"Forget it," Eugenia said coldly, turning her head away. "You're my blood, so I'll overlook your lack of manners for now. But once we set foot on the estate, you will learn to listen."

Alison didn't bother replying.

Ten minutes later, as the SUV approached the narrow crossroads leading out of Pine Ridge, Arthur suddenly slammed on the brakes.

Tires screeched against the gravel. Eugenia lurched forward with a panicked gasp. "Arthur, what is going on?"

Ahead of them, two blacked-out Escalades blocked the single lane. Parked squarely between them was a gleaming custom Maybach with New York plates.

Arthur's grip tightened on the steering wheel, the color draining from his face. "Ma'am... those belong to the Knight Group's security detail. That's Flint Knight's car."

Eugenia froze. Flint Knight was a ruthless billionaire who held half of Wall Street in his pocket. Even her husband had to wait months just to get a ten-minute meeting with him. What was a titan like Flint Knight doing in this backwater town?

Before Eugenia could say another word, Alison unbuckled her seatbelt, pushed the door open, and stepped out onto the gravel road.

"Alison! Get back here!" Eugenia hissed in panic through the open door. "You can't just walk up to Flint Knight!"

Alison ignored her, striding toward the Maybach with familiar ease.

The rear door swung open, and Flint Knight stepped out into the mountain wind, tall and broad-shouldered in a tailored charcoal overcoat.

A month ago, an ambush in these very woods had nearly killed him--until Alison pulled a bullet from his chest. He had lingered in Pine Ridge ever since, unable to take his eyes off the girl who saved his life.

As his slate-gray eyes locked onto Alison, the usual frost in his expression thawed. He walked up to her, stopping just a step away.

"Leaving without saying goodbye, Kiddo?" Flint asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur tinged with reproach.

Alison stopped in front of him, keeping a polite distance. "My family came to pick me up. Besides, your gunshot wound has healed, Mr. Knight. You should've gone back to Manhattan last week."

Flint looked down at her defiant face. He hated the distance she always kept between them. He could buy anything in the world, yet he couldn't get this eighteen-year-old girl to lean on him for a second.

"I stayed for you, and you know it," Flint murmured, stepping closer to shield her from the cold wind. "The Calhouns are a nest of vipers, Alison. Come with me instead. My penthouse in Manhattan is always open to you."

"I've told you before, I handle my own life," Alison said calmly, looking straight into his eyes. "I don't need a protector."

Flint let out a low, helpless sigh. Pushing her too hard would only drive her further away. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box. Inside rested a sleek, custom black phone and a miniature bone-conduction earpiece.

Before Alison could refuse, Flint took her hand and pressed the box into her palm, his warm fingers lingering briefly against her skin.

"Consider it a parting gift for saving my life," Flint said softly, his gaze dark and possessive.

"My private encrypted line is programmed inside. Keep the earpiece on you. In New York, if the Calhouns give you a second of trouble--or if you just need someone to take out the trash--say the word. I'll be there. Anytime, anywhere."

Alison glanced down at the box in her palm. Knowing how stubborn Flint was, if she tossed it back at him, his SUVs wouldn't budge an inch.

"Fine. I'll keep it," Alison said, slipping the box into her hoodie pocket. "Now tell your men to clear the road, Knight."

A faint, satisfied smile touched Flint's lips. He raised a hand, and the black Escalades immediately backed onto the grassy shoulder, clearing the path.

"I'll see you in New York very soon, Alison," Flint promised softly.

Alison turned around without a wave and walked back to the SUV. When she climbed inside and shut the door, Eugenia was staring at her as if she had seen a ghost.

As the SUV rolled past the Maybach, Eugenia gripped the leather seat, her voice trembling with disbelief and suspicion.

"Alison... how on earth do you know Flint Knight? And what did he just give you?"

Alison leaned back against the seat and pulled her black hood low over her eyes. Inside her pocket, her fingertips brushed the cool metal of the earpiece.

"Just an acquaintance," Alison said flatly.