“My boyfriend of eight years, Devin, proposed to another woman. I saw it on social media, my world shattering as I drove. The shock, the betrayal, and the secret life growing inside me sent a wave of pain through my body. Then, a flash of light, a violent crash. Karly, his new fiancée, had run me off the road. Bleeding and desperate, I called Devin for help, telling him I was losing our baby. His voice was cold. "What baby? You're being hysterical." In the background, I heard Karly laugh. "You were just a placeholder, a charity case. Consider the 'accident' a favor." Then the line went dead. But as I faded into darkness, a woman appeared at my bedside. "I'm Arlena Dickerson," she said. "And I'm your mother." Suddenly, I wasn't an orphan anymore. I was the sole heiress to one of New York's most powerful families, and the woman who stole my life, my love, and my child was about to learn what happens when you cross a Dickerson.”