Surviving My Billionaire Family

I dipped a chemical test strip into the hot soup my own mother just handed me.

It instantly turned a dead, toxic black.

Just minutes ago, she was lecturing me about being overly paranoid. In the dead of night yesterday, my foster mother shattered my bed frame with a heavy fire axe, trying to hack me to pieces. I only survived by flattening myself in the pitch-black space under the bed.

Today, the luxury town car this family sent to pick me up exploded into a ball of twisted metal halfway here. Genevieve, the fake heiress, blinked her big, innocent eyes and asked in a sickly-sweet whisper why I hadn't gotten in.

"Strangers will kill me. Cars will kill me." I stared dead-on at this so-called 'family.' "And I'm pretty sure you all will, too."

Staring at that pitch-black test strip, the smile vanished from my mother's face.

Chapter 1

When I first walked into the mansion, everyone's eyes were bloodshot. My biological mother was a sobbing mess, crying over how tragic my fate was.

I cleared my throat. Led by the butler, I hauled my heavy tactical backpack right up to them. "Hello, everyone. I'm Rowan."

They stiffened, all the breath leaving the room at once. Makes sense.

Ten minutes ago, they had just received news of my death. The car sent to pick me up had blown to pieces halfway here. No one inside survived.

Genevieve snapped out of it first. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with soft concern. "Rowan why didn't you take the car?"

I scoffed. "Why the hell would I get into a stranger's car? Strangers are dangerous. What if they suddenly pull a gun and blow my head off?

Cars are dangerous. What if there's a crash? Combine a stranger and a car, and I can instantly think of over a hundred ways to die."

I scanned the room, keeping my face deadpan. "Of course, right now, I still think you all want me dead, too."

My parents exchanged a tight look, the silence in the room thickening.

Julian jumped in, stepping forward. "What are you talking about? You're family. Why would we want to hurt you?"

"Sure. Better hope so." I scanned the layout of the massive house, already calculating the fastest escape routes if a fire broke out. The rooms were too big.

Too many blind spots where a person could hide. And with all the maids and butlers swarming around, keeping a safe distance was going to be a nightmare.

Seeing my tense expression, my mother softened her voice. "Don't worry. You're home now. We won't let you suffer anymore." She took a step forward, reaching out to stroke my hair.

Her hand was halfway through the air when my instincts kicked in. I instantly stepped back, putting a solid ten feet between us. At this distance, if she lunged at me, I had enough time to react and bolt.

Her hand hung awkwardly in the air before she pulled it back, forcing a stiff smile. "It's okay. We have plenty of time to get to know each other."

I kept my eyes locked on her and said nothing.

Julian couldn't take it anymore. He glared at me. "Rowan, Mom is just trying to be close to you. She's not trying to kill you."

Genevieve seamlessly slid into the conversation, her voice pathetic and needy. "Rowan do you just not want to come back to us?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to. I didn't want to come here at all."

The directness caught her off guard. Genevieve's perfectly curated innocent expression cracked. "What do you mean?"

I let out a dry, humorless laugh and pointed straight at her. "What do I mean? I mean I can thank your biological mother for that. She showed up in the dead of night yesterday with a heavy fire axe, ready to hack me to pieces.

If I hadn't been prepared and flattened myself under the bed, I'd be a corpse right now."

Dead silence dropped over the living room.

I shifted my gaze back to my biological parents. "As for why I actually came here"

Chapter 2

"Because you're high-society people. If you're going to take me out, you'll at least do it with some class. Physical attacks require too much reflex. I'm malnourished.

I'd probably lose a footrace."

Julian scowled. "What kind of garbage are you spouting? Genevieve's biological mother raised you. Why the hell would she want to hurt you?"

The color drained from Genevieve's face. She forced a pathetic wobble into her voice. "Rowan, how could you say that about Mom? She raised you for over ten years."

Watching their little duet, I pulled the police report for the violent assault and the temporary restraining order from my bag and tossed them onto the table. Then, I pulled out my phone and hit play on a video. In the footage, a middle-aged woman swung a heavy fire axe, hacking into a bed over a dozen times.

When she realized the bed was empty, she started tearing the room apart. The next video was footage of her chasing me down the street for blocks with that axe.

When the videos ended, my mother's eyes went bloodshot again, but she kept her distance. My father's brow was heavily creased, his jaw tight. Genevieve sat frozen on the sofa, her eyes darting away.

Julian let out a strangled noise. "Is this is this not a movie?"

"It's not." I kept my tone flat. "So, if you two are feeling charitable, could you hire a lawyer for me?"

My father finally spoke, his voice gravelly. "Done. I'll get you the best lawyer in the city. Do you have any other requests?"

I thought about it, looking him dead in the eye. "I just want you to let me crash here safely until I graduate high school."

"Not a problem." He agreed without missing a beat, then added, "Don't worry.

We will protect you. You are our child. Ask for whatever you need."

I pocketed my phone. "No need. I have zero expectations of you."

My mother's lips parted, but she swallowed the words, offering only a fragile smile. Julian opened his mouth to snap at me, but my father silenced him with a sharp look. Then, my father smoothly changed the subject, offering to show me my bedroom.

The moment we stepped inside, my mother stared at me, practically vibrating with anticipation. "Rowan, I had a designer decorate this room specifically in a style I thought you'd love. The natural light is amazing, and there's a small balcony. Look."

I didn't even glance at the balcony. The second I pushed the door open, I started tossing the room.

Her smile snapped. "Rowan, what are you looking for?"

"Checking for tampering."

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Julian walked in, his face twisting as he caught me unscrewing a wall outlet. "This is your home. Who the hell has the time to hurt you?!"

I tuned him out. I stripped the room down, checking every blind spot and corner. Julian kept running his mouthright up until I tossed three pinhole cameras onto the mattress.

He snapped his jaw shut. His eyes bugged out. "What are those?"

"Cameras."

The blood drained from my mother's face. She stammered, words failing her. "That's that's impossible. Why would there be cameras in our house?"

"Can I switch rooms?" I stared at the overly lavish decor, my mind already calculating how many more bugs were wired into the walls.

My father arrived seconds later. He took one look at the lenses on the bed, asked zero questions, and told me to pick any room I wanted. I mapped the entire estate and claimed a room on the first floor, right next to the main entrance.

Once I relocated, the butler knocked, announcing dinner. I grabbed my tactical backpack and headed to the dining room.

Genevieve saw me approach and flashed a perfectly sweet smile. "Rowan, you finally came down."

Chapter 3

I ignored her. I walked a slow circle around the dining table. I checked the chairs for unknown liquids. I checked the ceiling for heavy chandeliers directly overhead.

Only then did I sit down. I kept my tactical backpack on my lap, my hand resting inches from the zipper.

My biological mother slid a bowl of rice toward me. I shook my head, reached into my bag, and pulled out two military MRE rations and a thick stick of beef jerky. "No thanks. I brought my own."

Her smile faltered. "Do you not like rice?"

"No. I just think this is safer." I inspected the MRE packaging for tampering. Finding no punctures, I ripped open the seal.

Factory-sealed rations brought me way more peace of mind than anything sitting on this table.

She leaned closer. "But you're still growing. You can't just eat emergency rations."

"Unhealthy beats dead." I dug a plastic spoon into the ration, not bothering to look up.

Julian slammed his fork onto the table. He glared at me. "Rowan, are you being dramatic enough? The private chef made this food.

What could possibly be wrong with it? Aren't you exhausted, acting like a paranoid freak 24/7?"

I tuned him out and took another bite.

My mother stared at me, then personally ladled a bowl of chicken soup and pushed it across the table. "Rowan, I made this myself. Just one sip, okay? I swear to you, nothing is in it."

I stared at the soup for two seconds. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a military-grade poison detection test strip. Holding it by the very edge, I lightly dipped it into the broth.

"Rowan, what are you doing?" Genevieve put her spoon down, staring right at me. "Do you really think Mom would poison you?"

Julian opened his mouth to back her up.

Three seconds later, the test strip turned a dead, toxic black.

My mother stopped breathing. Her eyes went wide, locked on the blackened strip.

Before I could speak, my father interjected. "That chemical test strip might not be accurate. Maybe some acidic or alkaline ingredients in the soup caused a false reaction."

My mother nodded frantically. "Exactly, Rowan. It's just an accident."

"We'll see if it's an accident." I cut her off. I reached into the very bottom of my backpack and pulled out a palm-sized metal cage. Inside huddled a dirty gray field mouse.

I had caught it myself, keeping it in the bag specifically to test my food.

"Where the hell did you get a rat?!" Julian shot up from his chair. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Rowan, you're out of your damn mind! You brought a rat into the house?!"

I ignored him. I scooped a few drops of the soup with my plastic spoon and held it up to the cage bars. The mouse scurried over and took a couple of licks. Seconds later, it seized up.

It violently convulsed, then dropped dead on the cage floor.

The air in the dining room flatlined.

My mother's face went chalk-white. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. Genevieve sat frozen. A muscle ticked in her jaw before she smoothed her features back into a flawless, sweet mask.

"Mom, Dad maybe the rat was already sick?" Genevieve murmured.

Julian stared at the dead mouse and nodded in agreement. "Yeah. She's probably just trying to screw with us."

I looked up at Julian and let out a dry, humorless laugh. Then, I reached back into my bag and pulled out a second, perfectly energetic mouse.

"Why do you have another one?" Julian stared at my backpack like it was a bomb.

I grabbed the spoon and scooped up a little more soup. Soon, there was a second dead mouse on the table. Just like the first, it convulsed, dropped to the metal floor, and died without making a sound.

Dead silence.

My father's face turned a dangerous shade of dark red. He snapped a look at the butler and ordered the entire table of food thrown out.

Chapter 4

I kept eating my ration, thinking about how impossibly clean this mansion was. I probably wouldn't find any more mice to catch here. Maybe I should breed my own. Rats shouldn't be that hard to keep alive.

I got hungry in the afternoon. I pulled out my portable smokeless solid alcohol stove and set it up to heat some dehydrated macaroni.

Julian walked over. He watched me work and let out a scoff. "Are you actually brain-damaged? The house has gas stoves and electric kettles, and you're using this piece of junk to cook pasta?

That is ridiculously inefficient."

I didn't look back. I kept sprinkling the seasoning over the dehydrated food. "It's safe."

"Safe, my ass. You just don't know how to use normal appliances and you're faking it." Julian marched over, snatched the portable stove right out of my hands, and slammed it onto the nearby dining table. "Is the crap made from this thing even edible?

Wait here. I'll cook for you. Ten minutes tops, and it'll taste ten times better than this garbage."

"No need." I reached out to grab it back, but he dodged me.

Julian raised an eyebrow, a smug smirk pulling at his lips. "I'm your brother. You think I'm going to poison you?"

Seeing his idiotic smirk, I furrowed my brow and gave him the facts. "I just think the kitchen is compromised. What if someone tampered with the gas lines? What if it blows up?"

"You're clinically paranoid. Lunch was clearly an accident. I drank two bowls of that soup and I'm fine." He turned and headed straight for the kitchen.

I stared at his back, alarm bells screaming in my head. I immediately sprinted back to a safe distance.

"Are you ever going to stop?" He noticed me hauling ass away and glared over his shoulder. "It's just making some pasta. Wait right there, I'll have it done in a second."

I watched him walk into the kitchen.

Then came the deafening boom.

By the time my parents and the butler sprinted over, thick black smoke was already billowing out of the kitchen archway.

The ambulance arrived fast. As the paramedics strapped Julian onto the stretcher, he still stubbornly craned his soot-covered neck toward me. "This was definitely an accident. Wait for me to get back I'll make you that pasta."

I watched the ambulance speed off, shaking my head. Then I went back, fired up my portable stove, and cooked my macaroni.

A few days later, Julian was discharged and brought home. My father summoned the three of us to his study. Once we were all gathered, he slid a thick document across his mahogany desk.

"I plan to divide the family's assetsproperties, shares, and trustsinto three portions." His voice was low, his index finger tapping the heavy paper. "Rowan gets forty percent. Julian gets thirty.

Genevieve gets thirty."

Julian blinked, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Dad, I really don't need that much. I can make my own money later."

Genevieve offered a flawlessly sweet smile, waving her hands. "Thank you, Dad. But I'm not your biological child after all. If you give me that much, I'm afraid Rowan might be upset."

I looked at the legal document, then at the two idiots playing humble beside me. I shifted my gaze back to my father. "Are you trying to make us play a real-life Hunger Games?"

Before my father could even open his mouth, Julian jumped in, glaring at me. "Rowan, what the hell are you talking about? Who would murder their own family over money?"

I just stared at him. Next to me, Genevieve had the exact same speechless expression.

Julian looked back and forth between us, and genuine panic flashed in his eyes. "Hey, you guys don't think that, right? Wait, why aren't either of you saying anything? I'm definitely more important to you than cash, right?

I'm your brother."

He scratched his head. Met with dead silence, he turned to Genevieve, his shoulders slumping. "Genevieve, say something."

Genevieve quickly snapped out of it, snapping her innocent mask back into place. "Julian is right. How could we ever fight over money?"

Chapter 5

I studied the micro-expressions on Genevieve's face. Total plastic.

Julian missed it entirely. His eyes lit up. He grabbed Genevieve's hand, practically buzzing. "Yeah, we don't want it.

Just give all the cash to Rowan. She's the only one who actually cares about this stuff anyway."

Genevieve's perfectly curated smile cracked, the muscles in her jaw ticking. She kept her mouth shut, but her eyes screamed that she wanted to slap him into the next life.

I let out a dry huff. I wanted to slap him, too. Julian was an absolute moron. 'Family over money.'

Right.

Growing up in the gutter, I knew exactly what people would carve out of themselves for a few extra bucks. Forget about blood turning on blood. The endless string of zeros in the estate's bank accounts was more than enough to fund a ten-year conspiracy by absolute strangers just to take me out.

Was he actively trying to get me killed? I locked my eyes on Julian, who was still grinning like an idiot. Was it all an act?

Catching my stare, Julian puffed out his chest. "See? Look how understanding Genevieve is. You just keep the cash."

I stared at him, pressing my lips into a hard line. Was he intentionally painting a giant target on my back? Set me up as the bait, let Genevieve and me slaughter each other, and then he just sweeps in to collect the prize?

My father didn't even try to shut it down. He just pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine. Since neither of you want it, it all goes to Rowan."

"Ha." I waved a hand, totally exasperated. "Are you guys just annoyed I haven't been assassinated fast enough?"

My father's tone dropped. He stepped closer, reaching out to pat my arm.

I instantly sidestepped. What the hell was this old man doing? Could he not see the literal murder radiating off Genevieve right next to us?

"Rowan, that's not what I mean. We just know you've been through hell, and it breaks our hearts." He looked at me steadily. "Don't worry.

We will protect you. You won't ever have to fight for survival again."

He sounded deadly serious, but all I could visualize were a hundred different ways I was about to get murdered in my sleep. After he flat-out denied my refusal, I was pissed enough to toss a live rat into each of their bedrooms. And even with me playing it this safe, they still insisted on dragging me out to the family cemetery in the countryside to pay our respects.

They called it 'family bonding.'

I opened my mouth to shut it down, but my mother spoke first. "Rowan, you've been here for a while now. You must miss your friends back home. Didn't you say a few days ago that you needed to make a trip back?"

I went dead silent. The anniversary of my friend's deaththe friend who died in my placewas coming up. I really did need to go back.

Taking my silence as a yes, my mother clapped her hands. "Perfect! I'll have the butler book the flights."

"Don't bother. I'm going alone. I don't do planes."

Julian immediately invaded my personal space. "Why? Are you paranoid the plane's going to crash or something?"

I shifted a foot to the left, dodging his hand. "Yeah, actually. If something goes wrong at thirty thousand feet, there's exactly nowhere to run. I'm taking the train."

My father lowered his newspaper. "Absolutely not. We'll take the train with you. We aren't letting you travel alone."

I locked eyes with my father. What the hell was going through his head? Why was he so hellbent on tagging along? There was zero chance this was actually out of 'concern.'

"Don't go out of your way. I'll take the train myself. You all have your own things to deal with."

Julian nodded along. "Yeah, Mom, Dad, just relax. Leave Rowan to me. I'll go with her."

"Ha." I stared at him, my knuckles turning white as my grip tightened.

Before I could even shut him down, Genevieve chimed right in. "Julian's right. I'll take the train with you guys, too."

Chapter 6

"I'm good at taking care of people. It's better than letting Julian fumble around and do a terrible job watching over Rowan." She smiled sweetly, but a cold sweat prickled the back of my neck. I was dead certain they were going to shove a knife in my back.

Why else would they be so hellbent on tagging along?

My parents agreed to Julian's idea. Obviously, I shot it down. After I pushed back hard, we ended up buying three tickets in completely different train cars.

On the day of the trip, Julian stared at my oversized, heavily distressed hoodie. I had the hood pulled low over my brow bone and huge black sunglasses covering half my face. I looked exactly like a vagrant who had just crawled out of a subway tunnel.

He gave me a deadpan look. "Is all that extra gear really necessary?"

Genevieve's smile stiffened slightly. "Rowan, why are you dressed like that? You kind of look like a guy."

"It's safe. Don't follow me." I hoisted my tactical backpack and walked toward the ticket gates. "We're in three separate cars.

No visiting. We'll link up when we get to the countryside."

The second I boarded the train, I didn't go anywhere near my assigned seat. I headed straight for the restroom. I had an even more inconspicuous change of clothes stashed in my bag, bought specifically for this. After swapping outfits, I casually wandered the aisles.

I stepped off at the very next station. I had already booked a ticket on a completely different train departing from there. Riding the same line as them was a death trap. Splitting up was the only secure play.

After standing for three hours, I finally made it to the station near the cemetery. The second I walked out of the terminal, my burner phone buzzed. It was the butler. Julian and Genevieve had been attacked.

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. My grip tightened, nearly crushing the plastic water bottle in my hand. So, after all that effort to safely reach the drop zone, I had to turn right around and track them down.

I hung up and pivoted toward the local hospital. My pace was a slow crawl. Crowds meant higher risk, so I had to stay hyper-vigilant. Who knew if some psycho was going to sprint out of an alley and try to slice my throat?

When I finally reached the hospital room, Genevieve had just woken up. Her left arm was in a sling, her head was wrapped in heavy gauze, and her eyes were bloodshot.

The moment I walked in, her eyes bugged out. The heart monitor beside her bed spiked. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you shouldn't you be"

"Shouldn't I be what?"

Genevieve swallowed hard, her innocent mask snapping back into place. She forced a pathetic wobble into her voice. "Nothing.

I was just worried about you, Rowan. Are you okay?"

"Where's Julian? Why isn't he here?"

My mother instantly stepped forward, grasping Genevieve's uninjured right hand. "Genevieve, don't worry. Julian is in the room right next door."

"What?! Julian got hurt?" Genevieve gasped. She caught her slip-up immediately, her gaze snapping back to me. "Rowan, are you really unharmed?

It looked like they were coming specifically for us. It's crazy that you don't have a single scratch."

I looked at her, dead serious. "Of course I'm fine. I never sat in my seat."

"You didn't go to your seat?!"

"Right. Why would I?" I shrugged. "Assigned seating is a massive security risk. What if someone laced the cushion with contact poison?

What if a hitman tracked the seat number and sprinted over with a machete?"

My parents were already used to my operating procedures. They didn't say a word. But Genevieve blinked rapidly, a sudden realization hitting her face.

"Wait did you swap seats with Julian?"

I nodded. "Yep. Before we boarded, he wouldn't stop running his mouth about how paranoid I am. He literally thumped his chest and guaranteed no one was out to get me.

Said he was going to prove it