The Heir And The Servant, Started From A Bet นิยาย & เรื่องราว

he called as softly as he could and got their attention when he got closer. Dean was surprised to see him. But he can't hide his happiness. He misses him after a week of not seeing him. He misses Sean terribly. "Bun, you're here! When did you arrive? Why didn't you tell me?" he exclaims happily using his pet name for him for the first time since they made up. Employees that are present at the lobby stare at their boss in astonishment. But what got their attention more is Sean’s presence. Sean, the infamous heir of Chairman Stuart Williams. The eldest son of the Williams. The heir of the Empire Group of Companies. The lost prince.

“Holy shit, Lyriana. You’re pregnant with the heir to both thrones. This is more than a scandal. This is a looming war waiting to happen.” I held intensely unto the edges of the windowsill. “I am aware.” “So what do you want to do?” she asked. “I am confused,” I said with a heavy hear. “Well… you better figure it out before someone else does.” She said as I hung up the call. My breath caught in my throat as I reread the letter. Alaric. Here. In the same palace. This was the same man that ruined the world I had. He owns the child I am carrying. He is the heir to Ardonia’s kingdom. Our rival kingdom

I slightly chance, taking it short. - Good night, servant. His tone is mocking, but there is no more anger in his voice. He straightens up, throwing me a last look before turning my heels. I stay there, glued to the wall, my heart beating at a frantic pace. What just happened? I close my eyes, placing a trembling hand on my chest. I try to calm my breathing. I try to forget the warmth of her body. I'm trying to forget her gaze. But one thing is certain ... Alessandro is a problem. A problem that I am terribly tempted to explore.

"I pushed her at the wedding. Her baby was born premature and died at birth. But now…she's pregnant again. It's really my child this time." I raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations." "Congratulations?" He laughed bitterly. "We fight every day. About rent, about money. She never stops complaining that I'm a failure, saying she should have never left Marcus." "How ironic," I said, standing up. "Check, please." "Vivian, wait—" "Felix, your story is very compelling, but I'm not interested," I said, pulling out my credit card. "I wish you happiness." Six months later, I was chairing a board meeting.

Elias stepped in, coffee already half‑gone, tie imperfect, proof of an equally sleepless night. “Tell me that tone means discovery,” he said. “It means someone rewrote our family history through shell companies,” I replied, turning the display toward him. “Victor Drayke funded part of Blackwood’s prototype labs under Margaret Voss’s consultancy group twenty years ago. Her name surfaces in the same line as ‘Inheritance Clause.’” Elias frowned. “Inheritance clause, as in legal, or metaphorical?” “The contracts are literal,” I said. “But the language feels poetic. It references a non‑disclosure debt passed by bloodline, not signature.”

Because she was never supposed to be loved, she was supposed to be won. He remembered that night vividly, years ago, in the private lounge at the university club. The laughter, the whiskey, and the bet made by four entitled heirs of wealthy families. Whoever won Isla Hart, the finance prodigy, the campus belle no one could reach, would receive 0.5% shares from each of the others’ family corporations.

"We were hired. Everything was planned before we even came in." "Hired by who?" Carlton asked. The man hesitated again, just for a fraction of a second. Then he said the name. "Mr Lancaster" Carlton felt it before he processed it, the faint tightening in his chest. Zade’s eyes narrowed slightly. The second man shook his head slowly, disbelief written all over his face. "You’re really saying it." "I am," the first replied. "And I can prove it." That got Carlton’s full attention. "What kind of proof?" he asked.

Without another glance, the Master and his assistant strode away. I collapsed onto the cold floor. Regret gnawed at my heart like a venomous snake. Elara hadn't lied. She had been silently sacrificing for this family, even when we misunderstood and humiliated her. I went mad trying to chase the Master, but my father rushed over and slapped me across the face. "You useless pup! You're going to kill your mother!" "I told you Elara was the Head Healer for a reason! She was always better than that Liana, but you wouldn't listen!"

Another servant laughed and praised her: “She diagnoses us for free. How nice she is!” One of them recalled what happened several days before and brought up the topic again. “What do you think of the relationship between boss and Diana?” “She must be his girlfriend,” the first servant replied immediately: “She moved into the boss' room and treated us nicely. She must be the new master of the house.” “But what about Miss Jefferson?” one servant said guiltily, “Miss Jefferson also treated us nicely. And she is the boss’ fiancée.”