Chapter 3 - The Secret Billionaire's Daughter Unmasked
Rowan stumbled backward out of the front entryway, practically tripping over his own designer leather luggage as the two security operatives escorted him firmly onto the stone driveway. The heavy front door shut behind him with a resonant, final thud that vibrated through the quiet suburban afternoon.
Inside the quiet sanctuary of the house, I walked over to the armchair where my father sat. Gideon looked up at me, his sharp, formidable expression melting instantly into warmth.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" he asked gently, transferring Leo into my arms.
The warmth of my son against my chest grounded me instantly. "Relieved," I admitted, kissing Leo's soft forehead. "For three years, Dad, I felt like I was suffocating. I thought if I just tried harder, if I cooked better dinners, if I let Selina insult my clothes without answering back, Rowan would finally become the man I needed him to be."
"A lion does not need to prove himself to hyenas, Phoebe," Gideon said, standing up and placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You tried to live a modest life because you wanted authentic love. That does not make you foolish; it makes your heart pure. But now, the gloves come off. We protect Leo, and we protect your legacy."
Meanwhile, outside the property gates, Rowan was pacing frantically beside his leased BMW, his hands running through his gelled hair until it stood on end. His phone was glued to his ear, ringing incessantly.
"Pick up, Mom! Pick up!" he hissed under his breath.
Across town, in an opulent, marble-draped penthouse that Rowan had taken out a second mortgage to help finance, Selina Carter was reclining on a velvet chaise lounge, admiring her new Cartier watch while sipping an iced mimosa.
"Rowan, darling," Selina answered languidly, her tone dripping with self-satisfied elegance. "Are you back at your little house? Did Phoebe apologize for being so hysterical on my birthday? I hope she realized that making demands on a milestone weekend is terribly low-class."
"Mom, shut up and listen to me!" Rowan yelled into the receiver, completely losing his composure.
Selina sat upright, her manicured fingers tightening around her champagne glass. "Rowan! How dare you speak to your mother like that! I raised you to be a gentleman—"
"Phoebe isn't Arthur Vance's daughter!" Rowan screamed, slamming his fist onto the hood of his car. "Her name is Phoebe Sterling Vance! Her father is Gideon Sterling! The Gideon Sterling!"
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the other end of the line. The faint clink of Selina's crystal glass trembling against her saucer was the only sound.
"What... what did you say?" Selina’s voice dropped an octave, all the pretentious bravado vanishing in an instant. "Gideon Sterling? The private equity billionaire? The man who owns the development firm funding your architectural project?"
"Yes, Mom! That Gideon Sterling!" Rowan sobbed, panic choking his throat. "He was sitting in our living room holding the baby! He has an eighty-page file on us! He knows about the corporate credit cards I used for your trip to Paris! He knows about the money transferred into Chloe's boutique! He’s going to destroy us!"
"No... no, that's impossible," Selina muttered, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her mind raced back through the last three years—every cutting remark she had made to Phoebe about her cheap handbag, every time she made Phoebe clear the dinner table while Chloe relaxed on the sofa, every Thanksgiving dinner where she deliberately seated Phoebe at the drafty corner table because she was 'just an accountant from no-name origins.'
"She played us," Selina gasped, her voice shrill with indignation and mounting dread. "She tricked us! She deliberately concealed her wealth to make us look bad! That spiteful, manipulative little—"
"Mom, are you insane?!" Rowan interrupted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "She didn't trick us! We treated her like garbage while she held all the cards! We need to fix this right now. If Gideon Sterling pulls his investment from Miller & Hayes, I'm getting fired by Friday. If they file that forensic report with the DA, Chloe and I are going to federal prison!"
Selina’s eyes narrowed, her sharp, calculating instincts taking over. "Listen to me, Rowan. She's a new mother. New mothers are hormonal, emotional, and weak. She's just acting out because she felt left out of my birthday dinner. We go over there right now—you, me, and Chloe. We bring flowers, we apologize profusely, we cry if we have to. We tell her it was all a terrible misunderstanding."
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"Mom, there were two armed guards at the door—"
"I don't care if there was an entire army!" Selina snapped, rising from her chaise lounge and grabbing her designer coat. "That girl gave birth to your son. She is your wife. Under state law, half of her assets during this marriage belong to you. We are not walking away from billions of dollars because of a temper tantrum. Get in your car. We're going to claim what belongs to our family."
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