His Billion Dollar Girl

Isabella’s POV

“Because the family that man belongs to is the reason I hid the truth about your father from you.”

Mama’s words echoed inside my head.

I stared at her, unable to understand what she meant. Beside me, Alexander stood motionless, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on my mother.

For the first time since I had met him, he looked genuinely shaken.

“Mrs. Reyes,” he began, his voice low. “What exactly are you accusing my family of?”

Mama let out a bitter laugh.

“Your family? You still have the courage to ask me that?”

“Ma,” I whispered, stepping between them. “Please. Tell me what’s happening.”

She looked at me, and the anger in her eyes slowly dissolved into something more painful.

Fear.

“Isabella, we need to leave.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not this time, Mama. You’ve kept secrets from me for years. You told me my father died before I was old enough to remember him. You never showed me a picture of him, and every time I asked questions, you changed the subject.”

My voice trembled.

“And now you’re telling me that Alexander’s family has something to do with him?”

Mama closed her eyes.

“I wanted to protect you.”

“From what? The truth?”

She reached for my hand, but I stepped away.

That small movement seemed to hurt her more than any accusation I could have made.

“Please,” I begged. “I deserve to know who my father was.”

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Then Mama turned toward the old wooden table where several dusty documents lay scattered.

She picked up a yellowed envelope with trembling fingers.

“Your father’s name was Daniel Monteverde.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Monteverde.

The same surname that belonged to Alexander and his powerful family.

I turned toward him instinctively.

He looked as stunned as I felt.

“That’s impossible,” he said.

Mama’s eyes hardened. “Is it? Then perhaps you should ask your grandfather why Daniel Monteverde disappeared from the family records twenty-two years ago.”

Alexander’s face turned pale.

“My grandfather told us Daniel died in an accident.”

“Your grandfather lied.”

The words landed like a slap.

Alexander stared at her, his expression caught between disbelief and anger.

“Daniel was my father’s older brother,” he said slowly. “He died before I was born.”

“No,” Mama replied. “He didn’t die when your family said he did. He was forced to leave.”

My heart pounded painfully.

“Why?” I asked.

Mama looked down at the envelope.

“Because he refused to marry the woman your grandfather chose for him. He fell in love with someone else—a woman who had nothing to offer the Monteverde family except her love.”

Her voice cracked.

“That woman was me.”

I couldn't breathe.

My mother had loved a Monteverde.

And my father had been one of them.

“Then why did you tell me he was dead?” I whispered.

“Because after Daniel disappeared, your grandfather came to me. He told me that if I ever tried to contact the Monteverdes again, he would make sure neither of us would have a future.”

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“I was pregnant with you. I had no money, no powerful relatives, and no one who could protect me. I was terrified. So I left everything behind and raised you alone.”

I looked at the documents on the table.

“What are those?”

Mama hesitated before handing me the envelope.

Inside were several old letters, a photograph, and a folded legal document.

The photograph showed a younger version of my mother standing beside a handsome man in a dark suit. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and both were smiling as if the world had never given them a reason to be afraid.

I recognized his eyes.

They were the same eyes I saw whenever I looked in the mirror.

My father.

For the first time in my life, I was looking at the face of the man who had given me half of who I was.

I pressed the photograph against my chest.

“Why didn't you show me this?”

“Because every time I looked at that picture, I remembered the man I lost,” Mama whispered. “And I was afraid that one day, the people who took him away from me would come for you, too.”

My fingers trembled as I unfolded the legal document.

It was a copy of a birth record, followed by a handwritten statement acknowledging Daniel Monteverde as my father.

But at the bottom of the page was another name.

Richard Monteverde.

Alexander’s grandfather.

Beneath his signature was a sentence that made my blood run cold.

In exchange for the family's financial assistance, Elena Reyes agrees to keep the child's identity and parentage confidential and relinquishes any claim against the Monteverde estate.

I looked at Mama.

“Did you sign this?”

She nodded slowly.

“I had no choice. I needed money to survive after Daniel disappeared. They offered help, but only if I agreed to stay away from the family.”

“So they paid you to keep me a secret?”

“No!” Mama reached for me desperately. “I never wanted their money. I wanted your father back. But they made sure I had no other way to survive.”

I stepped away, my chest aching.

All those years, I had believed we were poor because life had been cruel to us.

I had never imagined that my own history was tied to one of the wealthiest families in the country.

And now I was standing in the middle of their mansion, holding proof that I was one of them.

Or at least, that I had once been.

“Alexander,” I whispered, turning toward him. “Did you know?”

He shook his head immediately.

“No, Isabella. I swear I didn't.”

“How can I believe you?”

His expression tightened, but he didn't look away.

“You don't have to believe me just because I say so. But I had no idea your father was Daniel.”

“Your family erased him.”

“I know.”

“Your grandfather threatened my mother.”

“I know.”

“And you expect me to keep pretending that this arrangement between us is just business?”

He took a step toward me.

“No. I don't expect you to pretend anything.”

His voice softened.

“But I need you to understand that I am not my grandfather.”

“Then prove it.”

The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

Alexander stared at me.

For a moment, I saw something change in his expression—not anger, not pride, but determination.

“I will find out what happened to your father,” he said. “Every document, every hidden account, every person who knows the truth. I'll uncover everything.”

“And if the truth destroys your family?”

His silence answered me before he did.

“Then I'll face it.”

I wanted to believe him.

God, I wanted to.

But promises were easy to make when the consequences hadn't arrived.

And I had spent my entire life learning that people with power could take everything away from those who had none.

Before I could answer, a voice interrupted us.

“That's enough.”

An elderly man stood in the doorway, leaning on a polished cane. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his expensive suit looked untouched by the passage of time.

Alexander stiffened.

“Grandfather.”

Richard Monteverde's gaze moved from Alexander to me, then settled on the photograph in my hand.

For a fraction of a second, something resembling fear crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

“So,” he said coldly. “The girl finally knows.”

I felt Mama grip my arm.

“You have no right to be here,” she said.

Richard ignored her.

He looked directly at me.

“Isabella Reyes. Your mother should have taken that secret to her grave.”

My stomach twisted.

“You knew who I was?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why did you let us suffer?”

His expression remained emotionless.

“Because your existence threatened this family's future.”

Alexander stepped between us.

“Watch your words, Grandfather.”

Richard's eyes narrowed.

“Move aside, Alexander.”

“No.”

The single word echoed through the room.

Richard looked at his grandson with cold disappointment.

“Do you have any idea what this girl is doing? She has entered your life, and now she has found her way into our family records. First, she accepts your money. Then she discovers her inheritance. What do you think she wants next?”

My face burned.

“I never knew I was a Monteverde until today!”

“Perhaps,” Richard replied. “Or perhaps your mother taught you to play innocent very well.”

“That is enough!” Alexander snapped.

I had never heard him raise his voice like that.

Not even when I spilled coffee on his expensive suit.

He moved closer to his grandfather, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You will not insult her.”

Richard gave a humorless smile.

“Listen to yourself. You are defending a girl you barely know against your own family.”

Alexander didn't hesitate.

“She deserves the truth.”

“And what if the truth destroys everything you have built?”

“Then perhaps it was never worth protecting.”

My heart stumbled at his words.

For one dangerous second, I forgot the secrets, the threats, and the fact that I was supposed to be nothing more than his temporary girlfriend.

I saw only the man standing in front of me, willing to challenge his own family for a girl who had nothing to offer him.

A girl like me.

Then Richard turned to me.

“If you want to know what happened to your father, ask your mother what she did on the night Daniel disappeared.”

I looked at Mama.

Her face had gone completely white.

“Ma?”

She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Don't listen to him.”

“What happened that night?”

“Isabella, please.”

“What happened to Papa?”

Mama covered her mouth, and a sob escaped her.

Richard's smile returned.

“Go on, Elena. Tell your daughter why Daniel never came back.”

Alexander turned toward his grandfather.

“Get out.”

But Richard didn't move.

Instead, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope.

He placed it on the table beside the old photograph.

“Since the truth has already begun to come out, you might as well read this.”

Then he looked at Alexander.

“And you should read it, too. Because once you know what your grandfather did, you'll understand why your father spent his entire life trying to protect this family.”

With that, Richard walked away.

The sound of his cane faded down the hallway.

I stared at the envelope.

My name was written across the front in familiar handwriting.

My mother's.

But beneath it was a date from twenty-two years ago—the exact date my father had disappeared.

I turned to Mama.

She was crying silently now.

“Ma,” I whispered. “What's inside?”

She shook her head.

“Something I prayed you would never have to read.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single letter.

The first line made my hands go numb.

My dearest Isabella, if you are reading this, then I have failed to protect you from the truth.

I stopped breathing.

The letter continued.

There is something your mother has never told you about the night I disappeared.

My eyes moved to the final paragraph.

If you ever meet Alexander Monteverde, do not trust him—not even if he tells you he loves you.

I slowly lifted my gaze.

Alexander was standing beside me, staring at the letter as if the words had struck him in the chest.

Neither of us spoke.

Because at the bottom of the page was my father's signature.

And beneath it, written in red ink, were five devastating words.

Alexander's father was responsible for everything.

I looked at the man who had promised to protect me.

The man whose family had destroyed my mother's happiness.

The man who was slowly becoming someone I couldn't bear to lose.

And for the first time, I wondered whether falling in love with Alexander Monteverde would be the biggest mistake of my life.