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.
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Chapter 3
"Ring, Ring!"
The alarm jolted me awake. Morning had come too soon.
I dressed, grabbed my bag, and headed for campus. The lectures dragged on. I barely paid attention. My mind was... elsewhere.
After class, I got a call from Jess.
"Hey Dad, I didn't go to lectures today. I'm bored. Can you come over?"
Without thinking, I agreed.
When I arrived, she had popcorn and a movie ready. We watched, played board games, and laughed like old times. It felt normal again. Warm.
I helped her tidy up her room since we run out of what to do. Jeez cleaning wasn't easy I exclaimed.. " I guess I've finally found your weakness "she replied" and we both laughed and continued our cleaning by the time we were done it was already past 6pm.
But as I got up to leave, something inside me snapped.
"Thanks for today," I said, standing close to her.
"You're welcome," she smiled.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face. My fingers lingered.
Then... I pecked her lightly on the lips.
She froze..eyes wide, lips still. Stunned.
I saw the fear. The confusion.
Guilt flashed across my chest. I slowly removed my hand from her cheek.
But then, something reckless took over.
I leaned in and kissed her again, more deeply this time. Brief, but intense. Then I pulled back, not saying a word. Picked up my bag and left her standing there, staring into nothing.
I didn't know what came over me.
Later that night, I went to a bar.
I sat there, drinking. Trying to forget the look on her face.
My phone buzzed.
"What's wrong with you? Are you becoming a pervert now? If you've started sexualizing me, I'll avoid you. I'm scared of you, Andre. I hate you."
I didn't respond. I just kept drinking.
"Bro. You still there? I'm coming back with something wild š"
Then again a minute later
I got a text from Geoffrey .
"Just landed. I've got gist. And a surprise. Where are you??"
I stared at the texts, debating if I should respond. Geoffrey had traveled to Brisbane earlier in the week for a family thing. Said he'd only be gone for three days.
I'd forgotten he was coming back today.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Me:
"Still around. At that bar across from The Galleria."
His reply came fast.
"Say less. On my way. Be there at 15."
Great.
I wasn't in the mood for company, but Geoffrey didn't care about things like "moods." He was a carefree soul. Loud, shameless, always full of gist. And somehow, still one of the few people I tolerated.
I leaned back, finishing the rest of my drink slowly. My head was getting heavy, and I could already feel the dull ache of an oncoming hangover crawling behind my eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, I saw him enter the bar, spotting me almost instantly.
"There you are!" Geoffrey grinned, dragging a chair beside me like we were meeting for brunch. "I thought you ghosted me, you idiot."
I offered a weak smile. "Didn't realize you were back today."
"Yeah, yeah. The flight got delayed, and then my sister wouldn't stop talking about her wedding plans like I'm not the broke sibling. Anyway," He sat down, dropping his phone and wallet on the table. "You look like hell. What happened to you?"
"Long week."
He squinted at me. "Long week like assignment long or long week like heartbreak long?"
I shrugged. "Something like that."
He eyed me suspiciously, then leaned in. "Is this about that girl?"
I tensed slightly. "What girl?"
"Jessica or whatever her name is. The one you've been lowkey obsessed with since the semester started. I've seen the way you look at her. Don't play me."
I looked away, jaw tightening.
He raised a brow. "Damn. That bad, huh?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Geoffrey held up his hands. "Alright. No therapy session tonight. Just vibes. And speaking of vibes..." He leaned in with a sly grin. "You're coming out with me tonight."
"Not in the mood."
"That's exactly why you're coming. You need a distraction. A drink. A girl who won't make you question your sanity."
I gave him a look. "I already drank."
"Then keep going."
He pulled out his phone and showed me a screenshot of an event flyer.
"A new club just opened in Southport. Velvet Room. Members-only, but I know a guy who knows the bouncer. Clean aesthetics, fine girls, crazy music. You're coming alright. End of story."
I wanted to say no. I wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and maybe sleep until I stopped feeling like a human trash fire.
But instead, I nodded.
Maybe Geoffrey was right.
Maybe I needed to feel something else. Anything else.
"Fine," I muttered. "Let's go."
Geoffrey clapped his hands once and stood. "My man. Let's get you out of this emotional coma."
I stood too, tossing a few bills onto the table without really counting and calling the waiter's attention to them. My head was spinning, not from the alcohol, but from everything else.
The guilt. Jess's message. The way her words were still echoing in my head.
As we walked toward the exit, something in me hesitated. My steps slowed.
By the time we reached the door, I had stopped completely.
Geoffrey noticed. "What?"
I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. "I can't tonight."
He blinked. "What do you mean? We just"
"I'm exhausted, man. Mentally. Physically. All of it," I muttered. "Let's do it tomorrow. Saturday night. I'll be more alive by then."
Geoffrey raised a brow, studying my face like he didn't recognize me. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I just need rest."
He exhaled dramatically but nodded. "Alright. I'll let you off the hook for tonight."
I managed a faint smile. "Text me the time and location."
"Done. And bro, whatever this is you're going through? Sleep it off. You're not even acting like yourself." I'll come pick you up tomorrow.
I didn't respond. Because I wasn't sure who I was acting like anymore.
We split up at the lot. Geoffrey headed off to catch a ride. I walked home alone, hands in my pockets, the chill evening breeze doing nothing to cool the fire in my chest.
As I pushed open the door to my room and collapsed on the bed, my phone vibrated one more time.
Jess.
"You scared me, Andre."
I locked the screen without opening it.
Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow I'll feel better.
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9.5
I spent two years navigating the stratified air of Spencer Kensingtonās 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 fatherās 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 personās 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 fiancƩ framed me. They drugged my water, lured me to a hotel suite, and tore my designer gown to stage a scene.
Her fiancƩ 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 fatherās 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 fatherās 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 metāmy 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 Iād 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."