The President's Secret Daughter Novel นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Aren’t there kind people in the world anymore? Another comment: “Father of her child? Lol, rich people and their endless secrets. How did Connor Shelby get a child without anyone even knowing about it these past years? What was the woman thinking anyway? Was it like a surrogacy or something, because no one even knew of her existence until today? Well at least she has given birth to the heir of Shelby Dynasty. That’s something to be proud of seeing how much of a shitty person she is.” I honestly wished people not knowing of my existence stayed that way, I thought, my heart squeezed in my chest. I have had enough and was about to turn off the phone when a comment caught my eye.

"Life happens." His brow arched. "But why the secrecy? No one knows what the President’s daughter looks like." Lydia’s expression darkened. "You must have heard about the tragedy ten years ago, right? My father had four children. One was poisoned, another died in an accident, and the youngest was kidnapped. Her body washed up on the beach." Rowan exhaled sharply. "That's... horrific." Lydia nodded "All within a year." His fingers tightened around his glass. "How did you survive?"

She hugged him, burying her face in his neck, while Benjamim lifted her off the ground, ecstatic with the news. “You’re going to have another heir,” she pulled back and told him, “and this time with no secrets. No billionaire’s secret child.” He kissed her and tucked the paper into his pocket. Holding her hand, he walked her back to the car. While Adam slept peacefully, they returned to the road, with the whole world ahead, waiting to be explored.

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He motioned for me to enter, and I stepped across the threshold, my heart pounding in my chest. As the door closed behind me, the weight of our shared history hung in the air, thickening the atmosphere. "Drew, there's something I need to tell you," I began, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing within me. "It's about our child." His eyes widened, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering in their depths. "Our child? What do you mean?" I took a deep breath, searching for the right words to convey the truth that had remained hidden for so long. "The child is not Cullen's, Drew. He's yours," I confessed, the words hanging heavy in the air.

I want you to know that no matter what you will always remain my daughter. ‘Mom, you are not making any sense at all, of course I will always remain your daughter, you gave birth to me.’ Connie cried as she came to kneel before her mother Stuart commented in disgust, ‘Wonders never ceases to happen in this house of secrets.’ ‘Finally the truth is coming out,’ Sue chuckled

He asked as his nose began to twitch in pure fury. "I..." The words are caught up in her throat as a lump built there. She darted her gaze to the lady and brows creased together. This lady... She knew her. She is the famous president's daughter, Nicole Lockhart. She... She was lying on the bed with her husband?! What was she doing here?! She flicked her gaze back to Floyd with a bitter look, silently asking him what he was doing. Why would he do something like this?

"It’s fine. Keep working through the checklist. I’ll be back.'' None of them knew I was the president’s daughter yet. It wasn’t something I advertised. Not because I was ashamed, just... I didn’t want them to think I’d gotten here through bloodlines instead of merit. My heels clicked against the polished tile as I stepped into the hallway. My heart thudded hard in my chest, not from fear, but from pressure. The invisible weight of being both employee and daughter, both capable and expected. As we waited for the elevator, I glanced at my phone. No missed calls. No texts. Of course. Ethan’s silence was starting to feel permanent. The elevator ride felt longer than usual. I smoothed the front o

The President’s secretary said and she thanked her before stepping out of her office to retrieve it. It was a folder. She took it back to her office and sat at her desk contemplating on whether to open it. It was sealed and it didn’t say who it was from. Alyssa ripped it open and pictures her and Richard having sex slipped out on the desk and floor. Her eyes widened. She picked them up quickly. At last a note was found in the folder. It read: ‘Such a naughty President. Does he know what you did? Don’t worry he will soon find out.’

Set the phone face down. The kitchen was quiet. "Isabelle Moreau," I said. Not a question. "Yes." "She knows about the wedding?" "She knew before the wedding." He picked up his coffee. "She's been — persistent." I thought about the things I knew about Isabelle Moreau, which were limited but pointed. Daughter of a powerful business ally. Had understood herself, by some arrangement that had apparently never been fully formalised, to be Alexandre's future wife. Had that information overturned on a Thursday morning when a photograph fell out of a stranger's bag.