Abandoned Heir You Bet On The Wrong Horse Novels & Stories

He told him with a shrug of the shoulders, the Bookie would have rubbed his hands with glee if he dared, taking all the pretty woman’s money should have made him feel guilty but all he thought of was what he would use it for. The little horse was a 20/1 outsider, everyone was predicting it would come last, some guys even backed it to come last, but Trina was determined and Marco admired her faith. He backed the horse he had chosen and then added a £1000 bet on the little chestnut, he was called Fiery Sunset and it suited him.

“You think you’re the only one who has to deal with this? This isn’t some dream come true. It’s a nightmare.” I stepped forward, leaning in close, lowering my voice even further, knowing I was pushing her to the edge. “You’re not going to trap me with a kid. I won’t let you. If you want this to end, you’ll take them.” Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t back down. “No,” she whispered, voice cracking with defiance. “I won’t do it. I want this baby, Nicole. I want us to be a family.” I sneered at her words. Family? This wasn’t a family. This was a prison.

CASSANDRA The numbers weren’t adding up, and Father was livid. I sat stiffly at the table in the packhouse’s formal office, a fan of expense reports and ledgers laid out in front of me like a criminal record. My criminal record, apparently. “You bought what?” he barked, his voice bouncing off the walls. “A mare,” I said evenly, smoothing my palm across the crease in my blouse. “Moon-blessed. Champion lineage. For the charity auction—”

As she stepped forward, her hand brushed the surface—and the book opened on its own. Pages flipped with invisible wind, landing on a single, ancient passage: “The phoenix is not born of ashes. She is born of betrayal. And when her flame chooses, it burns not for blood… but for truth.” A second page glowed beneath it: Names. Bloodlines. Truths. And then…A final entry: C-Alpha 00: Status — Confirmed Heir by Fire Next of Line: Undecided A final instruction blinked beneath: ‘Choose your successor.’ Her hand hovered over the glyph. Then—A scream echoed through the vault.

"What? Dad's strategy? What do you mean?" I asked Billy, stammering with curiosity. "Yes, my father told me to hide my son or daughter if we had one later, and I obeyed him. After a few years, it turned out that his words were true. There were indeed many enemies in the blanket who wanted to get rid of my husband because we thought we didn't have any children. When other people betrayed me, it was not a problem, but I didn't expect that the betrayer was my own brother." Mrs. Sandra's reply sounded so annoyed while looking at her two younger siblings.

And a note scribbled at the bottom: "Henry's will leaves everything to the child with the most heirs. You have three. I'll have two. But mine are healthy. Yours are defective. Game on." ---

“You think I don’t know what he’s doing? I helped him draw the blueprints.” Julian blinked. She smiled. “You’re not the only heir playing a long game, Mr. Vince.” And that was when he realized: she wasn’t Crane’s weakness. She was his legacy. — Back in New York – Same Night Clarissa slammed the door open into the safehouse. “Aiden,” she called out. He looked up from his laptop, eyebrows furled. “What happened?” She held up a burner phone. “Emergency message. One of our contacts from Legal just went dark. But before that—he sent a code. It matches a set of offshore files buried under your dad’s name.”

“Monsters…” The nanny nodded, her voice shaking. “Yes. And when the cure no longer worked, when Avery’s illness returned, they suddenly remembered the girl they abandoned. That’s why they went back to fetch her. Not because of love—not because she’s family. But because she’s nothing more than a blood bank for their darling princess.” The words burned themselves into Elena’s heart that day. She had stumbled back from the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks, her small chest heaving with grief and confusion. She wanted to scream, to ask why she had been born just to suffer, but she was too afraid. Too broken.

He holds my gaze and challenges every reason my brain comes up with that he’s here with me tonight for any reason other than he wants to be with me. “So, you’re not a choice of successor. You’re an heir,” he says slowly, as if trying to comprehend what I’m saying. “I’m not just AN heir, Benedict. I’m THE heir,” I say quietly. “What do you mean?” “When my grandfather met my grandmother, his fated mate, he didn’t accept her. He didn't realize that she had Alpha blood. You know how second sons become Betas and second sons of Betas become Gammas, etc?” I ask.

I'd just slipped my phone back into my pocket when I saw my family's butler, David Brown, standing at the entrance of the lounge. He nodded at me, looking as respectful as ever as he said, "Mr. Garrison, your father sent me to bring you home." "Thanks, David." I got up and followed him to the parking lot. A black Bentley was parked at the VIP pick-up lane. The car merged smoothly into traffic. I watched the skyscrapers flash past the window and thought of myself seven years ago, crammed into a tiny rental and eating instant mac and cheese. Back then, Cheryl used to say, "Nate, once we make money, we'll buy a place with a view of the Hatton River."