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His Secret Heir In Her Arms Novel Cover

His Secret Heir In Her Arms

I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have. While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff. I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions. He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot. I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in. Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code. Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years.
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Chapter 9

Monday morning.

Ivana sat in a cubicle in the basement of Sharpe Tower. There were no windows. The fluorescent lights hummed.

Aleta had set up a special "overflow" station for her, separate from the main data pool, ensuring Ivana was isolated.

Her job was to type numbers from paper forms into the computer.

It was mind-numbing work.

But as she typed, she noticed something.

The data she was entering... it was for the nutritional supplement formula. The flagship product.

She looked at the chemical ratios.

They were wrong.

Specifically, the lipid binding agent was too high. It would cause malabsorption.

She paused.

This was her algorithm. Or rather, a bastardized version of the algorithm she had written under the pseudonym MOON five years ago.

Someone had tried to copy her work and failed.

She looked around. No one was watching.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

She could fix it. But she couldn't use her login. IBECKER would be flagged immediately.

She accessed the terminal's command prompt. It was an old system, full of patches. She quickly routed her entry through a background maintenance protocol, making the change look like a system auto-correction triggered by a rounding error.

She changed the ratio from 0.4 to 0.2.

She saved the file.

Upstairs, in the penthouse office, Gannon was looking at a monitor.

His lead scientist, Dr. Vane, was sweating.

"Sir, I don't know why the efficacy projections are down. We're following the MOON protocol."

Suddenly, the graph on the screen spiked. The red line turned green.

"Wait," Vane said. "It just... corrected itself."

Gannon leaned forward. "What happened?"

"I don't know. The system just ran a calibration update."

"Who authorized it?"

Vane checked the log.

"System Auto-Calibrate. Source: Terminal 404. Basement Level."

Gannon stared at the screen. Terminal 404 was the overflow station. The one Aleta had assigned to Ivana.

He felt a chill go down his spine.

Ivana was a college dropout. She barely knew how to use Excel. How could her terminal trigger a high-level algorithm correction?

Unless she wasn't who he thought she was.

He stood up.

"Bring her to me," he said.

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