Part 1The Billionaire's Bastard: How I Crashed the Reading of the Will

I am the child of a mistress.

When I was seventeen years old, my biological father kicked the bucket.

At the funeral, wearing my cheap high school uniform, I stood in front of a room packed with Wall Street titans, brilliant tech innovators, and an A-list Hollywood actress. Trembling like a leaf, I stuttered:

"I... I'm here to fight for the inheritance..."

Before the words fully left my mouth, the legitimate heirs all turned their heads and stared dead at me.

I was so terrified I started crying.

"N-never mind... you don't have to give me anything..."

The A-list actress's eyes suddenly lit up. "A little sister? A soft, squishy little sister?!"

The tech innovator pulled out a pen and paper. "You're a high school senior? Come here, let's do some calculus so I can gauge your baseline."

The Wall Street titan pulled out a sleek black Amex card. "Why do you care about the old man's spare change? Call me 'Big Brother,' and I'll give you ten times whatever he left you."

My mother was a high-end gold digger, a kept woman stashed away by a very wealthy man.

The original agreement was simple: the sugar daddy provides the cash, she provides the beauty. A clean transaction, no strings attached.

But when you live the good life for too long, greed starts to fester.

She got pregnant. Relying on her growing belly, she pulled a classic "runaway pregnant mistress" routine.

Before she left, she broadcasted her new address all over Facebook and Instagram.

She was terrified he wouldn't be able to find her.

She fantasized that her sugar daddy would lock down the entire city and launch a dominant, aggressive crusade to win her back.

She imagined the legitimate wife breaking down in an inferiority complex and willingly stepping aside.

Unfortunately.

She played her hand too far.

The sugar daddy didn't look for her at all.

He didn't want her, and he didn't want the baby.

How could she accept that?

Heavily pregnant and about to pop, she camped out at the gates of the sugar daddy's sprawling estate.

Two massive security guards hauled her away and threw her literally into the dumpster out back.

They also passed along a message from the legitimate wife:

"If you have the skills to steal a man, go ahead. If you have the baby, I'll raise it. But money? You aren't getting a single red cent."

After all her harassing yielded nothing, she finally gave up hope.

But it was too late to get an abortion.

She gave birth to me full of bitter resentment, and raised me in the most negligent, haphazard way possible.

She didn't raise me because she loved me. She raised me because she wanted a payout.

The phrase she said to me the most was:

"You are his flesh and blood! He thinks he can just refuse to pay?!"

"In his dreams! Even if he dies, a piece of that estate belongs to you!"

As she wished, when I turned seventeen, my biological father kicked the bucket.

The second she heard the news, she practically threw me out of a moving car in front of the funeral home.

"Chloe Davis, you listen to me! Including you, your father only has four kids! You are entitled to one-fourth of his estate!"

"Today is your last chance! If you don't get that money, don't you dare come back home!"

Her twisted, furious face terrified me.

"Mom, please don't leave me here, I'm scared..."

"Scared, scared, that's all you ever say! Why do you think I raised you all these years?! To make money!"

"You've eaten my food and lived under my roof for over a decade, and you ruined my chances of finding a new rich guy! Don't you owe me compensation?!"

"Get that inheritance, give it to me, and maybe I'll still be your mother!"

She stormed off a few paces, then suddenly stopped.

She turned around, dug through all my pockets, and snatched the only ten-dollar bill I had on me.

I froze.

Without money, I couldn't take the bus.

This funeral home was halfway up a mountain in the Hollywood Hills. Relying on my own two legs, I wouldn't make it home before dark.

She shoved me hard toward the doors. "If I cut off your retreat, you'll actually put in the work!"

"If you get the money, you can take a taxi home. If you don't..."

She pointed casually at the surrounding hillsides.

"This whole area is a graveyard. You can just stay here and keep the ghosts company!"