The Tycoon's Daughter: A Bitter Inheritance

ile as a bird' s wing,

g, her hands chapped and sore from cleaning hou

red a secret that shattered my world:

e face graced magazine covers. My fat

e rasped, revealing a promis

reamed her final moments was, "He will hate it. He will

orphan, holding a crumpled number

to my crumbling apartment, I knew m

ke a museum, or a v

and Ben Thompson, gree

" Ben sneered, "The

g alone, walking on tiptoes, a cheap paperback

cture, taught in French, wh

mother' s sacrifice

still with closed eyes, sl

silent lifeline, an une

nd. It' s embarras

l I thought was a friend,

astard daughter," she announced

attempts to belong, and shoved me, m

aw

ped. I lunged, my fist c

s, chaos. Exp

s assistant, who bought off Jessica' s

worthless, easily bough

andalized lockers, spille

ate lunch in a bathroom stal

deserted alley, Jessica an

e gloated, "Your rich daddy doesn' t

s moved in, a black Audron

ged, their faces c

otball player, b

against a brick wall, dragging

voice was dangerously quiet. "She is

he aftermath, Ben explain

problem. And we don' t let anyo

ndaging my cuts, they revealed their mother'

reams had been crus

fly, had not been an offe

g held back,

spered to Ben in the cold, dark base

ecounting his dreams of game development, his mo

Ben confessed,

back, a cold, hard rag

space of creation, was a scene of

r trade, wrapped in ba

he maid, sobbed. "She w

, replaced by a col

reak," Emily said, her empty eyes

ave to be our weapon. Get strong. Get sma

my voice steady an