The Billionaire’s Secret Heir

Chapter 1 

I groaned, stirring on my bed as the soft ring of my alarm echoed across the room. Grumbling, I lazily stretched my hands and turned it off before rolling onto the other side of the bed. As I laid there, taking in the fresh morning breeze seeping through the cracks of my windowsill, it suddenly dawned on me…

It was a school day. 

My eyes shot open and I sprang up from my bed. Swinging my door open, I raced out and hurried down the hallway to Elijah's room. 

“Eli, wake up," I called gently as I turned the doorknob and walked into the room.

Sprawled across the bed was Elijah, my three year old son, snoring softly with his blanket half on his floor. His toy truck, the one I had saved for months to buy for his third birthday, lay tipped over his tiny hand. 

I crouched beside his bed and picked the toy as I brushed his messy hair to the side. “Wake up, baby," I cooed. "It's time to get up.” 

Elijah stirred on his bed before looking up. His tired eyes met mine and he smiled, showing the tiny gap where one of his baby teeth had fallen out. 

“School?" he asked, rubbing his eyes while he yawned. 

“Yes, baby," I replied, kissing his forehead. “School time." 

It took me five minutes to get him into the bath and another five to put him in his clothes. I tried helping him with his shoelace but he rejected, telling me he could do it himself. I watched him play lazily with the ropes for a few moments before going to dress myself. 

Putting on a plain white blouse and wrinkled black shirt, I stood in front of my mirror and stared at my reflection. My eyebags were still vivid despite my makeup and my collarbone pushed against the thin fabric of my blouse. I really had lost a lot of weight since…

“Momma, momma,” I suddenly heard Elijah call out. "The bus.”

Dammit.

I rushed out of my room and into the kitchen. Elijah was already standing by the door, waving at the bus. The driver blared the horn twice outside, and I heard him shout curses from across the street.  

“I'm coming, I'm coming," I mumbled, more to myself, as I squeezed in a wrapped sandwich from last night and a juicebox. 

But before I could zip up his lunchbox, the bus’ engine roared to life. I turned to the window just in time to watch it pull away, the scratched yellow paint flashing in the sun as it pulled away. 

“No, no, no,” I muttered, grabbing the still half open lunchbox and rushing to the door. 

I yanked it open, but just as I stepped outside, the lunchbox turned over, unzipping and spilling the sandwich and juicebox on the ground. I froze, my breath catching as I watched the bus disappear around a corner. 

Elijah whimpered and my chest tightened as I watched him purse his lips. For a second, I thought he might cry. 

“Okay," I breathed, picking his spilled lunch back up. “Looks like we're walking." 

_______________________________________

We finally arrived at the school gate just in time for the bell to ring. I sighted Mr. McConaughey, Elijah's teacher, guiding some of the children from the bus and hurriedly walked up to him, Elijah tugging along behind me. 

“Mr. McConaughey," I called and the young man turned. His face went from surprised to upset as his eyes met mine.

“Miss Hart,” he answered, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You're late… again.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” I apologized as I knelt down beside Elijah and straightened his shirt. "We woke up late–" 

“Again." 

I turned to the teacher, sensing the sharp edge in his tone. “I'll make sure it won't happen again," I said with a faltering smile before turning to Elijah and planting a soft kiss on his cheeks. “Now go on. Be a good boy for mummy." 

"We… we might have to… expel Elijah." 

I froze, my brows furrowing as I turned to the teacher. “Expel?" I muttered, my tone laced with surprise. "What do you mean—" 

“You're owing three full terms, Miss Hart," Mr. McConaughey said, his tone sharp. "That's almost a full year. And we've kept Elijah only because of how bright a kid he is. But our school runs on money to pay for the education he's getting." 

A knot formed in my stomach as I listened to his words. I could sense the finality in his voice. There was no going back. 

Still, I begged. 

"Please, he loves it here,” I whispered, my hands trembling as I tried swallowing my sobs. "I promise I'll get the money. I just have to—”

Suddenly, my phone rang, cutting me off. I excused myself, steadying my hands as I pulled the phone out of my purse. The number on the screen made me pause. 

It was the hospital. 

“Hello,” I answered immediately. “This is Elena." 

The voice on the other line grunted before talking. "Hello, Elena, this is Doctor Ethan.” There was a short pause before he continued. "I called to inform you that your grandmother has relapsed again. Your deposit funds and blood supply has been exhausted. To continue the treatment, you'd have to make another deposit.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Could you please hold on? I'll be heading to the hospital now. You could continue with the treatment and I'll bring the payment—”

"We've given enough grace, Miss Hart,” the doctor cut in. "No deposit, no treatment.”

Before I could say another word, the line beeped dead. Mr. McConaughey who had overheard every single word, scoffed. I turned to see him smirking. 

“What's the problem?" I asked.

"You can’t pay for your son’s schooling, yet you still want to keep that old woman alive?” Je shook his head. “She's already at her end, Miss Hart. I'd advise you let her die and focus on what's more important—your child.”

His words hit me like a bullet and cut deeper than a knife could but I refused to cry in front of him. Straightening my shoulder, I gave him a forced nod before flagging down a taxi. 

________________________________________

I walked into the hospital and turned down the hallway I knew all too well. Machines beeped around me, and the strong stench of antiseptic and bleach filled my lungs. Nurses walked past as I stopped in front of a room. 

I could see her through the window–my grandmother laying on the bed, tubes and wires poking in and out of her. She seemed peaceful, yet I knew the pain she was going through. 

A tear dropped down my cheeks. 

“Elena." 

I quickly wiped my face and turned to see Clara, my best friend. She walked out a room, still in her scrubs with her hair ties in a messy bun, and rushed to give me a hug. 

“Hey, Clara," I greeted, pulling myself from her embrace. “How… how's she now?”

"She's stable,” Clara answered with a soft sigh. “But they won't do more without some money. I used half of my salary to help cover for it." 

I froze. “You what?”

Clara waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me,” she said with a small shrug. "It’s my fault anyway. If not for me, you’d never have met that bastard.”

My lips twisted in a dry laugh. “Damian Cross. Don’t remind me.” My voice dropped to a small whisper. “If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him myself.”