Seven Sons to Topple a Princess

Sloane Sterling, the reigning princess of Manhattan, despised the poor, and I was the sharpest thorn in her side. I clawed my way out of the Bronx slums on a full scholarship to Blackwood University—an institution built for the elite.

"You think a rat from the Bronx like you is worthy of breathing the same air as me?"

My locker was stuffed with garbage, and the internet was flooded with viciously photoshopped pictures of me. Sloane Sterling even intentionally swerved her Porsche onto the sidewalk to break my leg—all because I was poor.

To survive, and to have my revenge, I set my sights on her real estate mogul father, a man desperate for an heir. Marcus Sterling, a man who was never short on female company. Unfortunately for him, he had no children besides Sloane.

Sloane saw me as a disposable toy, but she had no idea the women in my family are blessed with astonishing fertility. My plan was to give this real estate mogul seven sons and one daughter.

With me and my eight children in the picture, what chance did Sloane ever have?

————————

1

"I can't believe you dared to show up," Sloane Sterling sneered, pinching her nose as if she'd caught a whiff of something foul. Dressed in a haute couture gown, she glared at me. "You're disgusting, you filthy little rat."

Sloane, the sole heiress to Manhattan's real estate king, Marcus Sterling, had invited me to her birthday party at her penthouse apartment. Her goal, predictably, was to humiliate me in front of a crowd of socialites.

She wore that cruel smile I knew all too well. "How about I help you get cleaned up?"

The words barely left her mouth before her foot shot out, shoving me backward into the rooftop infinity pool.

To appear presentable here, I had spent every last cent I had—a pitiful three hundred dollars—on a discounted white dress.

I struggled to climb out of the pool. The soaked white dress had turned transparent, clinging to my body, cold and heavy against my skin.

Her cruel gaze swept over me, and then she let out a sneer. "Get a thrill showing off your cheap underwear?" she mocked. "Or does trash like you just not care who sees it?"

I clutched my arms over my chest as piercing laughter echoed around me, and I turned and bolted into the apartment.

Feigning panic and unfamiliarity with the enormous penthouse, I ran straight for the master bedroom at the end of the hall. I shoved the bathroom door open and immediately collided with a wall of a chest.

An expensive scent of cologne mixed with whiskey instantly enveloped me. I clutched my smarting nose and apologized in a trembling voice, "I… I'm sorry…"

A low chuckle rumbled from above my head.

"Well, hello there," the voice rumbled. "And what have we here? A little thing, lost and all wet?"

Bewitched by the sound, I slowly looked up and met a pair of deep-set eyes. His features were so perfect they seemed sculpted, every line exuding a mature, masculine charm that was utterly lethal under the warm bathroom lights.

It was him. Marcus Sterling. Sloane's father.

His eyes raked over my body. Beneath the drenched dress, the rise and fall of my chest and my delicate curves were tantalizingly visible. My lips parted, my expression a perfect picture of pitiable shock.

His gaze darkened in an instant. The next second, his scorching hand clamped around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. His hoarse voice rasped in my ear, "Soaking wet," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, "and exceptionally tempting."

He gave me no time to react before his mouth crashed down on mine, a fiery, demanding kiss that stole my breath. His kiss was filled with an undeniable possessiveness that nearly suffocated me.

Suddenly, I felt my body lift as he swept me up into his arms.

I let out a stifled gasp, my eyes wide as I looked up at him, the picture of helpless innocence.

My innocence seemed to please him. He quirked his lips. "Don't be scared. I promise to be gentle."

I shyly buried my face in his solid chest, but where he couldn't see, the corner of my mouth curled into a cold, triumphant smirk.

How could I be afraid of him? After all, every step of this "chance encounter" was meticulously planned.

I was born in the slums of the Bronx and was admitted to Blackwood University on a scholarship for my outstanding grades.

I had arrived on campus brimming with hope, only to be met with Sloane's ridicule on my very first day. I remembered her staring at my faded jeans and exclaiming dramatically, "Oh my God, have the admission standards really dropped this low?"

Because of that single sentence, my college life descended into hell. I was ostracized, locked in the women's restroom, and my locker was stuffed with rotting food.

Sloane and I were classmates, yet we lived in two different worlds.

I thought if I just endured it, she would lose interest, but she only grew more vicious. This woman, purely for her own twisted amusement, had intentionally swerved her car onto the sidewalk and struck me.

After that accident, she strode to my hospital bed in her high heels and threw a stack of cash at my face. "You got yourself hit for a payday, didn't you?" she sneered. "Here. Take it."

I lay in the hospital for three whole months with my leg in a cast. Yet, because Caleb Shaw, the boy Sloane had a crush on, came to visit me, she burned my arm with a cigarette. "Didn't you know Caleb is mine? How dare you try to seduce him?"

I thought the next time she'd just finish the job, but instead, I received an invitation to her birthday party.

I stared at the gold-embossed invitation, knowing my chance had come. Tonight, I had to teach Sloane a lesson she would never forget. Otherwise, I would never know a moment of peace.

At that thought, I wound my arms around Marcus's neck and whispered in a hoarse, trembling voice, "Please, be gentle. This is my first time."