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Her Stolen Ivy League Life Novel Cover

Her Stolen Ivy League Life

After nineteen years of captivity in a basement, my adoptive family stole my identity and Ivy League future for their own daughter. While she lived my Yale dream, I was hidden away. But the tide has turned. She is now interviewing for a VP position at the Halloway Group, completely unaware that the founder is my biological father who has searched for me for years. Sitting across the desk, holding her stolen resume, I finally have her future in my hands and will reclaim my life.
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Chapter 2

The heavy crystal paperweight sailed toward my face.

I tilted my head to the left. A rush of displaced air brushed my cheek. The solid chunk of glass flew past my ear and slammed into the framed photograph on the credenza behind me.

The impact sounded like a bomb going off in the quiet office. Shards of glass rained down onto the mahogany floorboards, scattering across the Persian rug. The silver frame clattered to the ground, dented and ruined.

"Are you insane?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet.

Elena did not back down. The mask of the polished executive had completely melted away, leaving behind a frantic, cornered animal. She lunged forward, her hands hooked into claws, aiming straight for my eyes.

"I will tear your face off!" she screamed.

The heavy oak door swung open.

Julian stepped over the threshold. He did not hesitate. He crossed the room in two long strides, caught Elena's right wrist, and twisted her arm sharply behind her back in a brutal backhand grip.

"Get your hands off me!" she shrieked, kicking backward with her stiletto.

Julian sidestepped the kick and shoved her forward. Her shoulder hit the drywall with a dull thud. He pinned her there, his expression entirely bored.

"Ms. Halloway," Julian said, his gaze flicking to the shattered glass on the rug. "Do you need me to call the police?"

"Not yet," I replied. "Release her."

Julian dropped his grip and stepped back. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored charcoal suit, keeping his eyes fixed on the intruder.

Elena stumbled away from the wall. She yanked at the lapels of her ivory blazer, smoothing out the wrinkles. Her chest heaved. The panic from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a sneer of pure contempt. She looked me up and down, her lip curling in disgust.

"You think you are so powerful," Elena spat. "You think sitting behind a big desk makes you untouchable. I know exactly what you are."

"Do tell," I said.

"You are just another corporate climber," she sneered, her voice thick with venom. "How many board members did you have to sleep with to get this office? You are a glorified secretary playing dress-up. Someone gave you a fancy title to keep you quiet, and now you think you can talk down to me?"

"Is that your professional assessment?" I asked, leaning against the edge of my desk.

"It is a fact," Elena snapped. She picked up her Kelly bag from the floor and dug her hand inside. "Look at this room. Look at you. You probably schemed your way into this position by seducing some old VP who did not know any better. But you messed with the wrong family today."

"The Thorne family," I said, testing the weight of the name. "A family built on real estate, shipping, and stolen inheritances."

"My father knows the actual executives of this conglomerate," Elena continued, ignoring my comment. "Marcus Thorne plays golf with the CEO. He funds half the charity galas this company sponsors. When I tell him a mid-level manager assaulted me during an interview, you will not just be fired. You will be blacklisted across the entire East Coast. You will not even be able to get a job pouring coffee."

"Go ahead," I told her. "Make the call."

"I am going to do a lot more than that," she said, pulling out a sleek silver smartphone. "You do not belong in this building. I am having you removed right now."

Elena tapped the screen rapidly.

"I have the head of building security on speed dial," she boasted. "My father pays them a massive retainer to guard the estate, and they handle the security contracts for this tower too. They answer to the Thorne family. They answer to me."

She pressed the phone to her ear. "Captain Miller? This is Elena Thorne. Yes, Marcus's daughter."

She paused, her eyes locked on mine, full of malicious glee.

"I am in the executive suite on the top floor," she continued into the receiver. "A deranged employee just attacked me. She threw a glass object and had her thug put his hands on me. Bring your men up here immediately and throw her out."

She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her purse. She crossed her arms, a triumphant smirk stretching across her face.

"You have about sixty seconds to pack your things," Elena announced. "I suggest you take the stairs. It will be less humiliating than being dragged through the lobby in front of your coworkers."

Julian let out a short, harsh laugh.

Elena shot him a venomous glare. "You are next, bodyguard. Assaulting a Thorne carries a heavy price. You will be lucky if you do not end up in a cell by tonight."

"I am terrified," Julian deadpanned.

I checked my watch. "Forty-five seconds left. Are you sure you do not want to run while you still have the chance, Elena?"

"I am not going anywhere until I watch them toss you into the street," she retorted. "You thought you could intimidate me with some ghost story about a dead girl? You are pathetic. You probably read an old newspaper article and thought you could extort me."

"Extortion requires me wanting something you have," I pointed out. "You have nothing I want."

"I have the Thorne fortune," she bragged, her chin lifting higher. "I have the power to crush nobodies like you. I have the pedigree you could only dream of."

"You have a piece of paper with a forged name," I corrected her. "You have a closet full of designer clothes paid for by a trust fund that belongs to me. You are a squatter in your own life."

"I earned my place!" Elena screamed, her composure completely shattered again. "I studied! I worked! I played the part perfectly! Marcus loves me. I am the daughter he always wanted. You were just a sick, weak little girl who spent her life coughing in a bedroom. You never deserved the Thorne name."

"So you locked me in an attic and set a fire," I said.

"I did what I had to do to survive!" she shouted, then immediately clamped her mouth shut.

Her eyes widened as she realized what she had just confessed. She glanced at Julian, then back at me, panic flaring in her chest.

"No one heard that," Elena said quickly. "It is your word against mine. And I am a Thorne. You are just a crazy woman making up lies."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked.

"Positive," she sneered. "Money buys truth. My family has enough money to bury you ten times over."

"It takes a lot of money to bury a secret," I agreed. "But it costs absolutely nothing to expose one."

Elena scoffed. "You have no proof. You have nothing but a matching face and a wild story. By the time security throws you out, I will have my lawyers draft a restraining order. You will not be able to get within five hundred feet of me or my father."

"Your father," I repeated. "Does he still drink his scotch neat? Does he still tap his ring against the glass when he is nervous?"

Elena blinked, thrown off by the specific details. "Shut up."

"Does he still keep the portrait of my mother in the study?" I pressed. "The one you probably hate looking at because it reminds you that you do not share a single drop of our blood?"

"I said shut up!"

Elena grabbed a heavy brass pen holder off my desk.

Julian took a half-step forward.

Elena froze, remembering the grip he had on her wrist just minutes ago. She slowly lowered the brass holder, her chest heaving.

"You will pay for this," she whispered.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway outside. The sound of rubber soles slapping against the marble floor grew louder, fast and urgent.

"They are here," Elena gloated, a manic smile spreading across her face. "Your time is up, sweetie. Let us see how tough you are when they drag you out by your hair."

Three men in dark tactical uniforms burst through the open doorway. They gripped heavy black batons in their right hands. The lead guard, a broad-shouldered man with a silver nameplate reading MILLER, scanned the room. His eyes darted from the broken glass to Julian, then finally to me.

"Captain Miller!" Elena barked, pointing a manicured finger straight at my nose. "Right there. That woman assaulted me and destroyed my property. Grab her and physically remove her from the premises."

Miller stopped in the center of the room. His two men fanned out behind him, their hands resting near their utility belts.

"Did you hear me?" Elena shouted, her voice shrill. "I gave you a direct order. My father pays your salary. Throw this trash out of the building!"

I stayed perfectly still, holding her gaze. I did not say a word. I did not need to.

Miller did not look at me. He turned his massive frame toward the woman in the ivory suit, took a step forward, and snatched the silver phone right out of Elena's hand.

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