The Rejected Jinx Is A Billionaire Heiress

Chloe POV:

"Get out, Chloe. The Tucker family is done keeping a jinx like you."

Brenda Tucker's voice was loud and sharp, cutting through the cold room like broken glass. "Eighteen years of charity! We fed you, we clothed you, and the second you finish college, your father loses millions in business?! You're nothing but a curse on this family!"

I stood in the center of the Tucker family's huge, expensive living room.

At my feet sat two cheap duffel bags, packed with the few clothes I owned.

Brenda stood in front of me with her arms crossed, covered in shiny diamonds. She looked at me like I was a piece of trash she couldn't wait to throw into the street.

I didn't say a word. My chest felt cold and empty.

Robert Tucker was losing money because he was an idiot who gambled on bad business deals. But in this house, nobody ever blamed themselves. It was always easier to blame the adopted orphan girl.

From behind Brenda's back, Jessica stepped out.

She was holding a dark blue leather folder in her manicured hands.

My heart twisted with anger the second I saw that folder.

That was my research. I had spent three months staying up all night, using everything my old mentor taught me to write that proposal: Advanced Neural Therapy for Sports Injuries. It was my dream project to help athletes recover from broken spines and damaged nerves.

On the cover, my name was gone.

In its place, stamped in gold letters, was: Jessica Tucker.

Jessica smiled at me, her eyes full of evil, mocking joy.

"Thank you so much for the folder, Chloe," Jessica said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "The manager of the New York Monarchs hockey team loved it. He promised to introduce me to Beckett Sinclair tonight because of it!"

Jessica flipped her blonde hair, looking down at me like a queen looking at a bug.

"Face it, Chloe-your research was completely wasted rotting in a drawer. A girl from an orphanage could never get within ten miles of Beckett Sinclair anyway. But in my hands? Tonight, it's going to make me his bride. You should be honored that your little paper was finally useful."

Brenda sneered, patting Jessica's shoulder with sickening affection.

"Don't waste your breath on her, Jessica," Brenda said, looking at me with pure disgust. "A man like Beckett was born for a true lady with your pedigree. A charity case like Chloe should be grateful her dirty name isn't on that folder-it would only embarrass the Sinclair family."

Then, Brenda pointed at my coat pocket. "Give me your purse."

I frowned, holding my jacket tight. "Why?"

Brenda didn't wait. She lunged forward, ripped my purse open, and snatched my little debit card out of my wallet.

As the purse fell to the floor, my phone screen lit up.

There were two missed calls from an unlisted number, and an automated email notification from the State Medical Licensing Board: [URGENT: Biological DNA Registry Match Confirmed - Representative Dispatched].

I had seen the notification earlier that afternoon, but with Robert screaming about his company and Brenda threatening me, I had assumed it was just a system error or spam.

"Hey! That's my card!" I shouted, reaching for my money.

"Yours?!" Brenda sneered, slapping my hand away with a cruel laugh. "You saved ten thousand dollars working night shifts at that diner while living under my roof! You ate our food! You used our electricity! Every single penny you made belongs to the Tuckers! Consider this your rent for the last four years!"

She slid my card right into her designer bag, not leaving me a single dollar to buy a bus ticket.

They stole my life's work.

They stole every dollar I had earned with my own sweat.

Robert Tucker stepped out of his study, his tie messy, his hands shaking as he checked his luxury watch. He looked weak, nervous, and refused to meet my eyes.

"Just let her go, Brenda," Robert muttered to the floor, his voice tense with stress. "Stop wasting time screaming. The styling team is waiting upstairs. Jessica still needs to get ready for the gala."

Not a single person in this house had a heart.

I took a deep breath, fighting back the rage in my chest. I bent down to pull the zipper on my bag.

As I pulled the zipper, my faded, patched cloth bear fell out of the pocket. It rolled across the floor and bumped against Jessica's silver high heels.

It was the only toy I had when I was left at the orphanage as a baby.

Jessica looked down. An ugly sneer twisted her face.

"Ew! What is that disgusting piece of junk?!"

Before I could reach for it, Jessica lifted her silver heel and stomped down hard right onto the bear's face.

She twisted her shoe, grinding the worn cloth into the dirty floorboards.

Crack.

"Oops," Jessica giggled with pure cruelty. "Trash belongs under my feet, just like you, Chloe."

A dark, dangerous fire exploded in my blood.

I stepped forward. The look in my eyes was so cold, so full of murder, that Jessica's smile froze. She took a step back in fear.

I knelt down and pushed her foot away.

I picked up the dirty cloth bear. My fingers pressed into its belly, feeling the hard metal inside.

The antique silver case was safe.

My mentor's six silver needles and secret medical notes were untouched.

I stood up straight, wiped the dirt off the bear with my sleeve, and slid the silver case deep into my coat pocket against my ribs.

Brenda pointed at the front door. "Now get out! If you ever tell anyone you know the Tuckers, we will call the police and tell them you stole from us!"

I looked at Brenda, then I looked dead into Jessica's eyes.

I didn't cry.

I didn't yell.

I let a cold, sharp smile spread across my lips. A smile that made both of them shiver.

"Keep the money, Brenda," my voice rang out, colder than ice. "Keep my research paper, Jessica. But remember this: everything you stole from me will turn into poison in your hands."

I grabbed my two heavy duffel bags.

"Have fun at the Sinclair Gala tonight, Jessica," I whispered softly. "I truly hope Beckett Sinclair gives you exactly what you deserve."

I turned on my heel, pushed through the heavy front doors, and walked out into the night.

I didn't look back.