The Spare And The Heir Mga Nobela at Kwento

“What’s the matter?” “Your aunt and I are going to bring Willie to Country Y to treat his illness, and we’re not sure when we’ll return. There’s something here that we’d like you to pass to your grandparents. I wanted to pass it to them personally at first, but they’ve refused to meet me recently,” Spencer said with a hoarse voice. “What’s that? I’ll ask Hadley to collect it…” “It’s the Hill family’s heirloom that your grandpa gave me. You should pick it up yourself because it’s very valuable,” Spencer responded.

One of the downsides of being a spare heir is that you often get assigned the bitch work. It doesn’t help that it feels like this is punishment for fucking that girl last night. Scratch that. This is not punishment for who I fucked. Nope, I’m being punished for who GUNNAR fucked and threw in the lake.

“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.

And somewhere beneath the soil, a new seed began to stir, waiting for the rain, waiting for the light, waiting to become something more. The heir had planted her tree. And now the next heir would do the same. THE END

The project was one of the most significant economic expansion initiatives in recent times, aimed at bolstering domestic production and curbing imports, all while involving major investment partnerships and demanding operational pressures. She turned to the next page, where his photograph appeared alongside a story about another success; ignoring the article, she focused instead on him—clad in a dark gray suit that framed a broad, solid physique. His features were quietly masculine, despite the serious expression he wore. Streaks of white ran through his coal-black hair—a detail that, in truth, only added to his allure. She instinctively touched her stomach; would the baby resemble his fathe

"You're the perfect person for the job. You're the ONLY person, actually." "Yeah! Imagine if it were Spencer," called Helene from across the table. She gave a delicate shudder. "Forget the Wane. In six months, I bet he could ruin the economy." "I'd like to think that the current economy is resilient enough to handle someone like Spencer," mused Dad. "But that's a very interesting idea, Helene. Spencer, do you want to try--?" "Nope," Spencer said abruptly, raising a hand. "The moment you try naming me your heir, I'll run away and you'll never see me again."

“Why?” A wry line carves itself on her face. “Children tend to vanish when they venture too far from home. I would hate for any of you to end up like the lost heirs,” she says, and I think she meant it as a joke because her dreary eyes shine with dark humour, but I also think it was a sincere warning. “The lost… heirs?” I repeat questioningly, hopefully a worthy prompt for an elucidation. A ghoulish glint sparks in Hilda’s dull eyes. “The lost heirs; twins that braved into the woods. Rumours speculate that it was to visit their favourite spot by the lake which they visited religiously, but one day… they never returned.”

“She is The McKenna. The heir. I believe…” “I don’t CARE what you believe, Boy!” my father’s face reddened, his veins pulsing as he leaned forward, slamming his fist on the desk. “My orders were clear–if we can’t control her, she’s gone. We’ve wasted enough time. The spare will have to do.” “But the spare isn’t The McKenna,” my heart sputtered with worry. “She isn’t even…” “She’s old enough now, Damien,” he insisted. “More than old enough. With her sister dead, she can take over the legacy, and the claim.”

"That's enough. The support agreement is already signed. Just carry the child and give birth." Mandy stared at her, stunned. Nora had always hated her, and now she was accepting this? "And after that?" "If you don't want the child, give him to us," Nora said evenly. "I've thought it through. The Strouds need an heir." She glanced at Quinton. "The situation might be awkward, but we'll say he's our grandson. No one will know." Quinton nodded quickly. "Right, a grandson. Same thing." Mandy thought it over, her mood lifting again. As long as the child wouldn't tie her down later, she could still get paid.

The notary's finger hovered above the keyboard for a moment. "Mrs. Fuzio." He adjusted his glasses, not daring to look straight at me. "The heir next in line needs to be present to confirm his intentions." I was confused. Christian Fuzio was an only child. His parents passed away ten years ago. We were married for 20 years with no children. "What did you say?" Before the notary could reply, the doors opened. When the boy walked in, I didn't even react. That was, until I saw his face.