Not her Biological Father
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She trusted him with everything.
But love was never part of the plan... and neither was death.
Seventeen-year-old Jessica Harts arrives at the University of Gold Coast full of dreams, brilliant, beautiful, and trusting. Andre Blake, her charming "school father," was everything she thought she needed: older, smart, respected... safe.
But behind the charm and quiet smiles was something darker.
Something he kept buried... until it consumed him. And what he promised himself he'd never do again happened a second time.
Only this time... it couldn't be undone.
Now Jess is dead.
And Andre is the only one who knows the truth.
The world believes it was an accident. The whispers say depression.
But someone else knows better... and they're watching.
But Andre? He thought his wealth would cover his tracks.
He thought silence could protect him.
Until Jess's older sister arrives... with questions he can't answer and eyes that saw straight through him. He was hiding something or worse lying.
Secrets don't stay buried.
Guilt doesn't stay silent.
Was it ever love?
Or something much, much darker?
Not Her Biological Father is a haunting billionaire romance thriller set on the golden coast of Australia. A story about twisted desire, broken trust, and the irreversible cost of crossing the line.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
Jessica Harts grew up in a house where love arrived before money ever did.
Her childhood home sat on a quiet coastal street, modest but warm, always smelling faintly of antiseptic and laundry detergent—evidence of her mother’s profession. Elaine Harts was a senior nurse in a public hospital, a woman who worked double shifts and came home with tired eyes but steady hands. She raised her daughters on discipline, prayer, and the belief that education was the only inheritance that could never be stolen.
Jess learned resilience early. Not because life was cruel, but because it demanded effort. She watched her mother leave before sunrise and return long after dusk.
Her older sister, Cassie, became her first role model—protective, outspoken, and fiercely independent. Together, they learned how to navigate life without shortcuts.
Jess was the kind of girl teachers noticed for all the right reasons. Intelligent, observant, and quietly ambitious. She wasn’t loud, but she was present. Not reckless, but curious. She dreamed of building a life that blended purpose with comfort—a future where she could give back without losing herself.
University was not just a milestone—it was proof that the sacrifices had meant something. Proof that she could build a future wide enough to carry everyone who believed in her.
That morning, as she stood at the gates of the University of Gold Coast campus with a suitcase at her feet and her heart racing with anticipation, Jess told herself this was where everything would begin.
She didn’t know yet that trust could feel safe before it felt dangerous.
She didn’t know yet how thin some lines were.
…….
I stared at the beautiful image of this damsel standing before me, her hips swaying from side to side as she catwalked toward me. I got lost staring at her cleavage peeking from the V-neck crop top she wore. They weren't too big or too small..just the right, perky kind that jiggled slightly as she walked by.
"Hey, Dad. Dad!!" she called, snapping me back to reality.
Jessica had just been admitted to the university, while I had been here for the past three years. This was currently my fourth and final year. I'm a Civil Engineering student-and Jessica's school father. My name is Andre.
Jess, as I call her, is not only intelligent but also undeniably beautiful. A perfectly carved figure-eight body. A face that makes heads turn.. pointed nose, almond eyes, naturally pink lower lips, and soft eyebrows that complete her angelic look.
I was the first person she approached on her first day when she got lost on her way to a lecture hall. I remember the day like it happened yesterday. She stopped me, looking slightly embarrassed.
She had stopped me near the Science Block, looking lost and a little flustered. "Hi... sorry. Do you know where the Science Department is? I think I'm lost "
Her voice was soft, uncertain.
I recognized her immediately. Jessica Harts. We had gone to the same elementary school years ago, though she didn't seem to recognize me.
"Yes, actually," It's just by the side of the students' cafeteria, close to the VC's office."
She looked a bit confused, so I added, "You know what, I'll take you there-if that's okay with you?"
"Okay, sure. Thank you so much," she replied, visibly relieved.
That one offer became everything.
Since that day, we'd been close. Texting, studying, eating together. I helped her register for courses, talked her through assignments, and answered her late-night calls when she got anxious before class. It felt good at first, protective. Purposeful.
But over time, my feelings warped into something else. Something I couldn't explain. Or control.
She didn't make it easier, either not intentionally. She called me "Dad" like it was a joke, always laughing, always wrapping her arms around me like I was the safest place in the world.
She had no idea.
"Dad, are you okay?" Jessica's voice pulled me back to the present.
Shit. I had been staring again.
"Uh, yes, dear. I'm fine," I quickly replied.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, placing her hand softly on my shoulder. "Is it your final exams?"
"No, dear."
"Don't worry, I know you don't want to talk about it. But I'm sure you'll pass."
"That's sweet of you. But no-it's not that. I'm just exhausted."
She smiled. "You're still looking handsome, even when exhausted."
I chuckled, "And you're beautiful today, Jess."
"Where are you heading?" I asked.
"I received a package from home, so I'm going to get it," she replied, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag.
"Hope it's a big bag of goodies?" I teased.
We both laughed.
"I don't know yet, but if it is... I might not tell you," she said, raising a brow. "So you don't hover around my house and finish them for me."
"Wow. The betrayal," I said, pretending to clutch my chest. "After all we've been through."
Jess giggled and rolled her eyes. "I'll let you know if it's worth sharing. Maybe."
"Or maybe I'll just show up uninvited," I shot back.
She looked at me, a playful smirk lingering. "Try it, and I'll call the campus police."
"Then I'll say I was checking up on my child," I said, a grin tugging at my lips.
"Some father you are."
We stood there in that small moment, laughter slowly fading, a silence settling between us like fog.
She looked up at me with those warm brown eyes, the kind that saw people, not just through them.
"I'll see you later, Dad," she said softly, starting to walk away.
My smile faltered for a second.
"Yeah... later, Jess."
I watched her go-shoulders slightly bouncing with her stride, her curls catching the sunlight like fire.
I should've turned around and headed the other way.
But I didn't.
I stood there too long, hands buried in my pockets, staring at a girl I had no business seeing the way I did. My thoughts spun in all the directions they weren't supposed to go.
She was seventeen.
I was supposed to protect her. Guide her. Keep her safe. I was supposed to protect her. Guide her. Keep her safe. Not the other way around.
I rubbed the back of my neck, frustrated with myself.
"You need to get a grip," I muttered under my breath.
But deep down, I already knew the truth:
I wanted more than friendship.
And no matter how hard I tried to hide it... It was only getting harder to control
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9.5
I spent two years navigating the stratified air of Spencer Kensington’s world, thinking I was the woman he loved. I even ate instant ramen for months to afford a vintage camera lens for our anniversary. When I got a mysterious text about "Operation Blue Moon," I thought it was our private signal for a proposal.
Instead, I walked into a limestone fortress to find the Kensington and Van Der Woodsen Engagement Party in full swing. Spencer wasn't there for a romantic dinner; he was standing under a crystal chandelier, announcing his "business merger" with a blonde heiress.
When I confronted him in a service hallway, he didn't apologize. He offered to buy me a brownstone and keep me as his "side project" while his mother, Victoria, watched from the balcony like a queen.
"Vanessa is just furniture," he said, his voice full of a terrifying sincerity. "But you're the one I love. I can give you a life of ease."
When I refused to be his dirty little secret, the retaliation was instant and brutal. By the next morning, I was fired from my reporting job, my father’s nursing home funding was pulled, and I returned home to find my apartment condemned by the city. My entire life was piled in wet boxes on a rain-soaked sidewalk.
I couldn't understand how one family could have the power to erase a person’s existence in a single night. How could the man who kissed me yesterday watch his mother leave me homeless and penniless today?
Standing in the rain next to my ruined belongings, a black SUV pulled up and Mayor Julian Sterling stepped out. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a deal.
"The Kensingtons are panicked," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "And panicked people make mistakes. You have a reason to watch them burn. I want to see what you know."
I took his hand, knowing he was just as dangerous as the people I was fighting, but I was done being the victim. This wasn't just a breakup anymore; it was a war.
8.0
I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.
7.6
When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.
9.0
I was the poor girl from Appalachia the wealthy Copeland family adopted out of "charity," bringing me to a life of New York luxury I could never have imagined.
But it was all a lie. I wasn't their daughter. I was a living, breathing blood bank for their precious child, Bridgette, whose life had been secretly saved by my bone marrow.
Once I was no longer useful, they decided to throw me away. On the night of Bridgette's lavish engagement party, she and her fiancé framed me. They drugged my water, lured me to a hotel suite, and tore my designer gown to stage a scene.
Her fiancé stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. "Did you really think spreading your legs would make me forget where you came from? You're just a trashy hillbilly."
Outside on Fifth Avenue, my adoptive parents screamed at me in front of the press, calling me a disgrace. My sister wept, accusing me of trying to destroy her perfect life out of jealousy.
They expected me to crumble, to become the pathetic scandal they could discard like garbage. They thought they were dealing with a scared, helpless girl from the mountains.
But they made a fatal mistake. The soul of that poor girl was already gone. And I, the top-tier operative known as Glacier, had just woken up in her body.
7.8
On the day she married, Alina unknowingly took the place of the Hayes family's daughter and became Kellan's wife, the richest man in town who was rumored to be disfigured.
Everyone mocked their doomed marriage, expecting misery and disgrace.
Instead, Alina revealed brilliance no one expected-a renowned jewelry master, financial genius, and medical prodigy.
The woman the Hayes family ignored was actually the heiress they should have treasured.
As regret consumed them and her ex begged for another chance, Kellan stood beside her, now devastatingly handsome.
"Alina and I are perfect together. Stay away from my wife."
7.6
For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk.
The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for.
"You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip."
My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father.
I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth.
But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app.
They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move.
"Get dressed. We're going to a party."