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The Discarded Heiress's Spectacular Comeback Novel Cover

The Discarded Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

Six years ago, my father tore up my mother's trust fund and threw me out into a freezing New York storm. Crawling in the mud with a high fever, I was nearly run over by a massive Rolls-Royce. The man in the backseat, ruthless billionaire Hiram Houston, looked at my bleeding face with absolute disgust. "Throw her in the trunk." He coldly ordered his driver to lock me in suffocating darkness and dump me behind a sketchy private clinic in Queens like garbage. I survived that night, completely abandoned by my family. But the ultimate cruel joke came when I realized the anonymous sperm donor I later used from that exact same clinic gave my son a pair of piercing, ice-blue eyes. For six years, I clawed my way up to become an untouchable lawyer and designer. I raised my son Julian alone, publicly humiliated my abusive father, and thought I had buried the monster of my past forever. But today, during a tense corporate negotiation, my uncle accidentally showed Hiram a picture of my little boy. The ruthless corporate butcher stared at a child who looked exactly like a mirror reflection of his own youth. "Boss... he looks exactly like you." I locked my apartment door, my body shaking with silent sobs as I slid down to the floor. He ordered a full background check on me, and now he knows the truth. The man who once left me for dead is coming for my son.
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Chapter 8

Rolf's face turned violently red. He raised his massive right hand high into the air, his palm open, aiming directly for the back of Alycia's head. But as the gasps of the wealthy patrons echoed around them, his self-preservation kicked in. He wasn't about to ruin his reputation by physically striking a woman in front of New York's elite. He lowered his hand, his lip curling in absolute disgust.

"Throw this trash and her little bastard out," Rolf barked at his bodyguards.

The massive guard lunged forward, shoving Julian violently out of the way to get to Alycia. The six-year-old boy flew backward, crashing hard into a marble pillar. Julian let out a sharp cry of pain, clutching his bruised shoulder.

The coldness in Alycia's eyes vanished. It was replaced by pure, unadulterated murder.

She dropped to her knees, grabbing Julian and pulling him into her chest. She ran her hands over his arms, checking his bones. When she realized he was just bruised and terrified, she stood up.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and dialed the emergency line for the NYPD.

"This is Alycia Gillespie. I am reporting a malicious physical assault ordered by Rolf Gillespie at The Plaza Hotel lobby," she said, her voice completely devoid of emotion.

Rolf stared at her, his chest heaving. "You're calling the cops? You're insane! I'm your father!"

Seraphina realized the danger. She lunged forward, her claw-like nails reaching for Alycia's phone. "Give me that!"

Alycia backhanded Seraphina's wrist away with vicious force. "Touch me, and you're an accessory to assault in the second degree."

Two heavily armed NYPD officers shoved their way through the crowd, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.

Alycia reached into her jacket and pulled out her driver's license and business card. She held it up.

"Officers," Alycia said, pointing a shaking finger straight up at the black dome of the CCTV camera above them. "Pull that footage immediately. That man directed his security to assault me and a minor. I am pressing charges for assault in the second degree."

Rolf puffed out his chest, trying to use his wealth as a shield. "Do you know who I am? I pay your salaries! This is a family dispute!"

Alycia rattled off the exact penal code for assault with intent to cause physical injury. Her legal jargon was flawless. The officers looked at the bruise forming on the child's shoulder, then at the crying child.

There was no hesitation.

One officer grabbed Rolf's arm, twisted it violently behind his back, and slammed him against the glass wall. The cold steel handcuffs clicked loudly around his wrists.

The paparazzi flashes went absolutely crazy. Rolf Gillespie, the billionaire, was being arrested like a common thug.

Seraphina screamed. She tried to run after the officers as they dragged Rolf away, but her stiletto caught on the tile. The heel snapped. She crashed hard onto the floor, her mink coat dragging in spilled coffee.

Alycia pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped a stray tear from Julian's cheek. Her face was completely numb.

She picked Julian up, pressing his face into her shoulder so he wouldn't see his grandfather in handcuffs.

"I will follow you to the precinct to give my statement," Alycia told the remaining officer.

She turned and walked out the sliding doors toward the waiting black car. Her spine was perfectly straight. She didn't look back at the wreckage on the floor.

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