The Billionaire’s Secret Daughter Novels & Stories

I barely even breathed as he took my hand—my fingers instantly stiffening at his touch—and pressed a small folded note into my palm. My stomach churned. Something was wrong. I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I slowly unfolded the paper. And the moment my eyes landed on the words scrawled across it, my breath hitched. **"Say yes, Olivia. Or everyone in this room will find out exactly who you are. Olivia Richards. The secret daughter of a billionaire."** The words blurred as panic set in. My blood turned to ice. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, like I couldn’t breathe.

“Did you see anything in the room at least, that could help you Identify him? I hesitated, the watch flashing in my mind. “I know he's rich, like filthy rich. He had a Patek Philippe Grandmaster chime on the nightstand.” Laura blinked, “I've heard that name before,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Isn't that Scott's dream watch?” She asked. I nodded, my chest tightening. “ It is.” “Oh Linda, I'm so sorry for bringing him up.” She apologized. “It's fine,” I said softly.

“What?” “She was raised by a fisherman’s family on the South Coast. Turns out she was stolen from the hospital the day she was born. Her real father is Michael Grayson.” Grayson. That name sounded familiar. As I ransacked my brain to recall who he was, my beta explained that he was the richest human business mogul, a billionaire, and it clicked then. I stared at my Beta, absorbing all the information, including the fact that tonight was a party her father was throwing to introduce her publicly as his daughter to make her accepted within the high class.

“The boy is entitled to know he’s the son of a billionaire.” “You’re being stupid in your conclusion,” Antonella replied in a whisper, needing to stop and calm down if she wanted to find a solution. “You’re not helping me at all by making that kind of comment.” “What do you want me to say?” For various reasons, her voice was low, and she panicked as she hissed. “If you would rather not tell him the truth, stay in the city and get a better job. You know that only here are the best opportunities.”

she asked. “A tragedy,” I replied, smiling from where I stood. “Who would believe that in a thousand years, the wife of the almighty Ken, my father, would try to commit suicide? And guess what? His daughter is a whore. She trapped a very wealthy billionaire by laying in bed with him.” I could already imagine her gasping until I heard it from her end.

"What the fuck? Who's that? Isn't that Philip Knox from Knox Group?" "Oh my God, it really is him! The richest billionaire in the country! I've seen him on the news before!" "Wait, did the lady boss just call him 'Dad'?" "The case is solved! She's not some kept mistress with a money-laundering hobby! She's an heiress! A real heiress worth billions of dollars!" "What kind of a plot twist is this? The billionaire dad is here to back his daughter up!" Alice's face turned as pale as a sheet at once.

The headline was splashed in a sensationalist, blood-red font: THE BILLIONAIRE’S BOUGHT BRIDE: THE TRUTH BEHIND ELARA VANCE. Below the headline was a grainy, high-contrast photo from three years ago. It showed Elara standing in a rainy alleyway, her face pale and streaked with tears, clutching a thick envelope—the money from Julian’s father. The angle made it look like a sordid drug deal or a payoff for a shameful secret. “Sources confirm that the mother of the 'Secret Heir' accepted a multi-million dollar payoff to vanish years ago. Was it a payoff for silence... or a price tag on a child?”

Maybe I hid it too well. My phone vibrates on the cushion beside me. Grandma Pei. ​I answer without thinking. “Hey.” “You didn’t call me back yesterday,” she says, her voice layered with faint irritation. “I hope you’re eating well.” “I ate,” I lie. “Good.” She pauses only a second before continuing, “I arranged something for you.” I exhale slowly. “Grandma…” “You’re thirty-one.” Her tone sharpens. “It’s time to settle down. I found a very suitable woman for you. Her name is Lola Campbell.”​

I hid who I was. The daughter of the Don. The boss of all bosses. In Brooklyn, Killian and I were just a regular couple. Madly in love. The day I showed him the pregnancy test—two pink lines—he loosened his blood-stained collar. His voice was rough. “I’m marrying the New Jersey syndicate’s daughter. In three days. At St. Patrick’s Cathedral.” “The Russos were nobodies ten years ago. Her father has the muscle and the ports I need to win this war. The ink is dry. And… to get the first weapons shipment… we slept together.” He saw me freeze by the bed. His rough fingers touched my cheek. “I’ll buy you a penthouse on Long Island. The most secure one. You and the baby will be safe. For life.” I

“You’re talking nonsense. I’m leaving. Thanks for dinner.” I started walking, but he grabbed my wrist. “Let go. What the hell are you doing?” I glanced around, worried people were staring. Derek was well-known here, and so was I. The last thing I needed was a paparazzo snapping a photo of us. “Give me a chance, Elara. I’ll take care of your son too,” he begged, dropping the one secret I’d kept hidden for years. My eyes widened in horror. “H-how do you know?”