The Eight-Pack Heiress and Her Crazy Family

When I found out I was the secret heiress to a billionaire, I was in a junkyard dismantling a scrapped heavy-duty pickup truck barehanded.

The junkyard boss led a wealthy woman dripping in custom designer jewelry over to me. Supposedly, she was my biological mother.

She looked at me. I looked at her.

After a long moment, she took off her Chanel sunglasses and choked out, "Boss, I'm here looking for my daughter, not auditioning Magic Mike strippers."

"Though, if you're highly recommending him, I'm not totally opposed"

The junkyard boss and I fell silent.

Chapter 1

"Ma'am, you've got it all wrong. This isn't a stripper. This is the Harlow you're looking for."

I'm Harlow. Five-eleven, stacked, rocking an eight-pack of abs.

Today, I found out I was a secret heiress.

The woman standing in front of me was my mother. Right now, her eyes were blown wide, processing an undeniable glitch in her reality.

"My daughter is this buff? I mean, handsome?" she stammered. "I guess she lives up to the hype"

After a full minute, her brain successfully rebooted. She lunged forward, her hands gliding right over my eight-pack. Logic told me I should swat those wandering hands away, but emotion told me this was the mother I'd never met.

Caught between reason and feelings, my own hand moved on its ownstraight to my mother's stomach. All squish.

Me:

Mom:

We both dropped our hands at the exact same time. The vibe was painfully awkward, but we still had to go through the motions. Leaving the junkyard boss behind bawling his eyes out, my mom took me home.

The second we stepped up to the mega-mansion, before I could even process the insane wealth, we bumped into a guy who looked about twenty. He took one look at me and instinctively puffed out a chest thatfor the recordwas significantly smaller than mine.

His voice spiked with panic. "Mom, why did you bring a stripper home? Dad's still in the house!"

Apparently, my mom's little hobby of hiring male strippers was public knowledge. Honestly? That sparked a little thrill in me. A stripper? Never ordered one.

Kinda wanted to try. But regardless of my intrusive thoughts, I still needed to clear the air.

"Lady, put your checkbook away," I said, looking right at them. "I'm not some stripper. I'm apparently your long-lost biological daughter."

The guy looked at Mom. She gave a solemn nod, confirming the tragic truth. The guy looked back at me.

His eyes locked onto my massive pecs, and he let out an ear-piercing shriek.

"I will never accept you as my sister!"

With that dramatic exit line, he bolted into the mansion.

Mom sighed. "Your brother just give him some time. He'll accept it eventually."

I totally got it. After all, I'd watched enough of that trashy Kardashian reality TV to know the drill. The whole 'loving the fake daughter and rejecting the real one' drama? I understood the assignment perfectly.

Mom patted my arm. "He'll get over it. Eventually, he'll accept that he no longer has the biggest pecs in the family."

Me: ???

Wait. Hold up. Was that the issue?

The family's reactions were derailing my expectations.

Take my dad, for instance. His very first reaction upon seeing me was, "Honey, didn't you say you quit hiring strippers?"

Why was everyone so obsessed with the stripper angle?!

But thankfully, one person managed to hold down the fort and stick to the script: the fake daughter, Elara. The second she laid eyes on me, she acted like she'd been struck by lightning. She threw herself backward in a wildly exaggerated arc, knocked over an absurdly expensive medieval knight's armor in the hallway, and immediately tried to frame me.

"Mom! Dad! My sister pushed me! Oh my god, my implants are going to pop out!"

She wailed and thrashed, but not a single tear fell.

Dad and Mom just stared at her, shifting their weight.

That wasn't even the end of it. Seeing no one taking the bait, she actually dug into her Hermes Birkin bag, whipped out a bottle of pepper spray, spritzed it into the empty air, and then clutched her eyes, sobbing hysterically.

"Mom, Dad, you have to defend me!!"

Mom rubbed her temples. She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the living room. "Elara has a few loose screws. Don't mind her."

I gave an awkward smile and nodded. Yeah, no kidding. I noticed.

From behind us, I even caught my brother muttering a hushed warning. "Why the hell would you mess with her? She throws one punch, and you'll be zipped up in a black plastic body bag and shipped off to the morgue overnight, do you get that?"

Me:

I genuinely didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Chapter 2

Before my life in the Lin family officially kicked off, I had to pick out my bedroom.

"Sweetheart, I bought the entire east wing of this Beverly Hills mansion and knocked down the walls to create twenty different themed luxury suites," Mom said, waving her hand down the hallway. "Take your pick."

See, this is how the ultra-rich should operate. Why fight over a single room when you can just build a dozen more? That was my thought process, anyway, until I stumbled into my absolute dream rooma massive, pastel-pink sanctuary that hit every single one of my aesthetic sweet spots.

"Mom, I can't believe you guys nailed my taste so perfectly." I opened my mouth to claim it, only to hear a catastrophic, ear-piercing wail erupt from right behind me.

I spun around. Elara was bawling her eyes out.

"Mom prepared twenty rooms for you! But the second you get back, you still try to steal my room! I can't live like this!"

Yep. In a spectacularly messed-up coincidence, the one room I picked was Elara's.

Before I could even blink, she launched herself into a full-blown sprint straight toward the second-floor window and threw herself out.

I froze. My parents, however, didn't even flinch. Mid-air, Elara somehow executed a frantic twist and vaulted right back through the window, landing safely on the floor.

Mom casually crossed her arms. "Elara's just like that. She wants to die, but then she usually regrets it halfway through."

Her tone was as flat as if she were discussing the weather.

I let out a heavy breath, grabbed the back collar of Elara's limited-edition couture jacket with one hand, and hauled her all the way back to her side of the room like a yapping Chihuahua.

"I'm not trying to steal your room," I told her, dropping her on the rug. "Just stay put, and stop trying to off yourself every five seconds."

The sunlight was pouring in perfectly, a soft breeze blowing through the room.

She stared up at me, blinking blankly, before suddenly screaming, "I will never fall for your reality-TV-level fake kindness! Just give it up!"

She slammed the door right in my face.

I ended up picking a lavender-toned suite down the hall. After double-checking that it was neutral territory, I safely moved my stuff in.

My brother stared at the pink walls, his face contorting. "Real men pick black. Why the hell did you choose a sparkly pink room?"

"Is there any possibility," I asked slowly, "that I am actually a woman?"

He shot a look at my massive pecs and spiraled right back into a pit of indignant grief. "I refuse to bow down to destiny!"

I turned to Mom to ask what exactly this 'destiny' was.

Mom rolled her eyes. "The most expensive tarot card reader in Beverly Hills told him he was destined to be a second-in-command for his entire life. And look, now even his chest size is ranked second."

Me:

My brother tried really, really hard, but the results were basically non-existent. It felt like every single shred of the family's bodybuilding genetics had been pumped directly into my DNA. No matter how much he trained, he couldn't even get close to my level.

A few days later, I was aggressively lifting weights in the home gym, thinking that this still wasn't enough. I really needed to get back to hauling scrap metal. Sweat dripped down my forehead, turning my white tank top translucent and perfectly framing my eight-pack.

My brother walked into the gym. He saw my eight-pack. He pointed a shaking finger at me.

"Can I touch them?"

Whoever said extreme bodybuilding only attracts the same gender was dead wrong. Look at me, instantly pulling the opposite sex. Even if it was my own biological brother.

"Bro, I'm a girl," I told him, dropping the dumbbells. "This is highly inappropriate."

He clenched his jaw. "It's fine. We'll keep it strictly professional. I'll just treat you like a little brother."

Honestly, the lengths this guy would go to just to cop a feel of some decent abs were terrifying.

Chapter 3

I couldn't brush him off, so I let him cop a feel. After a quick poke, his face melted into an expression of absolute, dreamy reverence.

"This texture" He slapped my shoulder, two heavy thuds echoing in the room. "Sis, you've got to tell me. What exactly is your routine?"

I cracked my knuckles and held nothing back. "I eat ten pounds of raw beef every day, pull a fully loaded semi-truck for a mile, and squat three full-grown adult men. And most importantly, I practice meditation during tornado warnings!"

Just kidding.

Instead, I eagerly pitched him on my old side hustle at the junkyard. Leaving him there to dismantle scrapped trucks under the junkyard boss's proud, beaming smile, I pocketed the two thousand dollar finder's fee.

I even reminded the boss to deposit my brother's wages directly into my offshore account. Absolute perfection.

Ever since I shipped him off to the junkyard, his pecs exploded in size, and our sibling bond leveled up right alongside them. This, naturally, made Elara look at me like I was a literal psychopath.

One night, she ambushed me right outside my bedroom door.

"Spill it. Are you beating the crap out of my brother every day?"

I stared at her, tilting my head. "When have I ever laid a hand on him?"

Elara crossed her arms, jutting out her chin. "The tarot card reader said it was physically impossible for his pecs to get that huge. They have to be swollen from you using him as a punching bag!"

Wait, could this Beverly Hills tarot card reader actually predict pectoral circumferences?

Elara wasn't done. "Anyway, keep your hands off my brother, or else"

I leaned against the doorframe. "Or else what?"

She jutted her chin out. "Or else I'll jump straight into the Pacific Ocean and leave a suicide note saying you shoved me. Have fun rotting in federal prison!"

I wasn't worried in the slightest. I'd witnessed enough of her performative death wishes over the last few days.

Even if this girl sank to the bottom of the ocean, her sheer instinct to cause drama would propel her right back to the surface.

"Suit yourself," I told her.

She gasped, a hand flying to her chest. "At first, I thought you were a decent person. Now I see my trust was completely wasted on you!!"

Wait, what trust? When did she ever trust me?

Right on cue, my brother strolled down the hall. Spotting us squared up at my door and clearly terrified a fistfight was about to break out, he jogged over.

"What's going on? What are you guys talking about?"

Elara instantly latched onto his arm like he was her last lifeline. "We're talking about your pecs, big brother! Tell the truth! They're just swollen because she's been beating you up, aren't they?!"

In that exact second, I watched my brother's face cycle rapidly from anxious, to horrified, to someone battling severe constipation.

"I built these pecs with my own blood, sweat, and tears!" he squawked.

Elara narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. "Stop faking it, bro. The tarot card reader already told us you couldn't possibly grow pecs this big! You've been trying for years and got nothing, so how could they pop up overnight?"

"Just say the word. I'll help you. I won't let this terrifying woman bully you!"

My brother:

Chapter 4

My brother inhaled sharply.

"All thanks to you! You swapped out my premium whey protein for cheap instant oatmeal, lied to my face that it was a new vegan flavor, and forced me to watch my pecs vanish right before my eyes!"

My jaw dropped. For a fitness freak, that was a catastrophic tragedy. The fact that my brother hadn't murdered her on the spot proved he was an absolute saint.

Elara shrank back, muttering, "I was just worried you'd be hungry"

"Gee, thanks a lot!" he snapped.

Elara blushed, twisting her fingers. "You're welcome hehe."

My brother:

After witnessing that, I fully grasped the sheer magnitude of Elara's destructive capabilities. I wasn't scared of her hating me anymore. I was terrified of her actually liking me. The second that happened, my peaceful life would be completely over.

But some things were just inevitable.

One afternoon on my way home from school, passing by a narrow alleyway, I suddenly heard Elara's voice. Her voice trembled, cracking on the last syllable.

"What do you want?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, torn between letting her handle her own mess and getting involved.

"Shouldn't you know exactly what I want?" a sleazy voice echoed from the shadows.

Elara let out a piercing shriek. "Ahhh! Stay away from me!"

Hearing that, I threw logic out the window and charged straight in without a second thought. I collided head-on with a scene of seven or eight street punks crowding Elara, practically oozing malice.

"Who the hell are you? I'm warning you, mind your own business!" The lead punk barked.

He caught sight of my massive pecs, a flash of apprehension crossing his eyes, though he puffed out his chest trying to act tough.

I didn't even acknowledge him. Scanning the area, my eyes locked onto an old fire hydrant right next to me.

I yanked upward with one handdirt cascaded down, and I ripped a rusted, heavy-duty street fire hydrant, along with a thick chunk of its underground water pipe, straight out of the earth.

Solid iron. The real deal. Still dripping with mud and concrete.

The punks lost all color in their faces. "Holy shit?!"

Me: "Why the hell is there a fire hydrant buried here?"

Elara grinned sheepishly. "I bought it off eBay. Didn't know what to do with it, so I buried it here. I come hang out and talk to it sometimes."

So that's why you got cornered in this specific alley?

Pointless to argue now. I swung the massive fire hydrant around like a baseball bat, the wind howling around the heavy iron as I brought it down

Thud. Thud. Before the strike even landed, every single one of them dropped to their knees simultaneously.

"Lady! Don't do it, lady! You smash us with that fire hydrant, and we won't even have time to call an ambulance!"

Every single one of them was crying like a busted waterfall, tears streaming down their terrified faces.

Elara clutched her chest. "Oh my god, my heart is beating so loud. I think I'm falling in love."

"I'm actually falling for my own sister. This is so wrong."

The punks stuttered, "Sis sister?"

I lost it. "That was the sound of grown men dropping to their damn knees!"

Long story short, Elara's attitude toward me did a complete one-eighty.

When I asked her why she was getting jumped in the first place, she just giggled. "Classic rerun. They picked me as a target a while ago, demanded cash, I said no, and they tried to teach me a lesson."

"Ended up having terrible luck and got hurt themselves. They refused to take the hint, so every time they heal up, they try to corner me again, and their luck just keeps getting worse."

Half a year in the game, and her survival streak was still unbroken. Clearly, my urge to intervene had been far too impulsive. I pondered this deeply.

Chapter 5

I messed up. I messed up big time.

I never should have saved Elara that day.

Ever since that rescue, my daily life had spiraled out of control.

When I was eating, Elara would crawl out from under my dining chair. When I was gaming, she would pop up right behind me. When I was sleeping, she would even slither out from under my bed!

Seriously, who does she think she is? Samara from The Ring? Why is she always crawling around like a horror movie ghost?

I shot Mom a look for help, only to receive a helpless shrug in return. I decided to head out for a walk to clear my head.

Just as I stepped out the front door, something slammed hard into my pecs.

Thud. Whatever it was instantly bounced backward, flying through the air.

Well, that's fine. At least bouncing off didn't cause a concussion.

I froze. The maids nearby froze.

I cleared my throat and went on the offensive. "Who the hell are you? Groping me the second you walk through the door?!"

The guy stared up at my stacked five-eleven frame, pointing a trembling finger at his own chest. "Groping? Me? I I groped you?"

Shortly after, Mom informed me that this guy was Elara's fiancPierce.

Me:

The name sounded preppy enough, but honestly, I couldn't picture Elara, that screaming drama queen, actually being in a romantic relationship.

One minute passed. Two minutes passed. Three minutes passed

Pierce suddenly sprang back to life, vaulting off the floor!

"Mr. and Mrs. Lin, I heard your family found your real daughter. I'm here representing the Pierce family to send our regards and formally invite her over for tea. Is your daughter present?"

Pierce's eyes scanned the room, sweeping left and right, completely bypassing me for the hundredth time.

I finally lost my patience. "Hey. I'm right here. Are you blind?"

"I'm Harlow, standing right in front of you."

This guy was beyond oblivious. His gaze finally landed on me.

"Mrs. Lin, isn't this the new male stripper you hired?"

Mom's eyes darted away guiltily. "I quit hiring strippers. This is my daughter."

Pierce's gaze locked.

His body started to twitch. His breathing hitched into hyperventilation. He collapsed onto the floor.

I crossed my arms. "Mom, shouldn't you consider getting Elara a new fianc? This one seems a little fragile."

Mom sighed. "With the way Elara is, we're lucky she even has one. We can't afford to be picky."

After passing out cold on our living room sofa for eight solid hours, Pierce finally woke up.

The very first thing he did upon waking was stubbornly avert his eyes, refusing to look at me, and firmly declare to Mom, "Mrs. Lin, this marriage arrangement I I agree to it."

After announcing that, he silently looked over at Elarawho was currently distracted playing with my knucklesand let a single tear roll down his cheek. Hearing his trembling tone, anyone would think he was being held at gunpoint.

My temper flared. No matter how incredibly stupid Elara was, she was still my sister. This frail guy had zero right to look disgusted by her.

I rolled up my sleeves, ready to teach him a quick physical lesson, but before I could step forward, he dropped to his knees right in front of me with a loud thud.

Elara clutched her chest. "Sister, my heart is racing again! Don't tell me this isn't true love!"

Mom held her hands up. "Hey, let's just talk this out. If you really don't want to go through with this marriage, we can always renegotiate."

Dad nodded along. "Yeah, your kneeling is going to drain all the good Feng Shui right out of our house."

Me: ?

Wait. Was this right?

Pierce's legs were clearly jelly, but he looked like a martyr marching to the gallows. "I agree to the marriage. However, I request to build an emotional connection with Harlow first. Is that acceptable?"

Mom blinked repeatedly, but chose to respect it. "Uh I suppose?"

Dad just blindly agreed. "Oh, yeah, totally!"

Elara shot him a thumbs-up. "Good man. You know how the game is played."

My brother, currently obsessed with flexing his own chest in the mirror, remained completely silent.

I was the only one who didn't understand and definitely didn't respect this. Seriously, why the hell did Elara's fianc want to build an emotional connection with me?

Chapter 6

Long story short, I was forced out of the house to build an emotional connection with Pierce. Now, that might sound like a mildly thrilling setup, but the catch was that Pierce barely qualified as an actual functioning human being.

Under the eager, beaming gazes of my newly acquired family, Pierce dragged me to our destinationa gritty underground boxing gym.

I stared at the sweaty ring, completely baffled.

He puffed out his narrow chest, looking like he was stepping up to the executioner's block. "They say physical violence is just aggressive affection, so I figured this is the ultimate romantic hotspot for our date!"

Does this guy have some extreme masochism fetish?

I couldn't comprehend his logic, but I still took my time picking out a pair of obnoxious Barbie-pink boxing gloves before stepping into the ring with him.

I honestly thought that since the guy had the guts to challenge me, he had to have some hidden skills.

But the exact second I threw a practice jabwithout even making contactthis idiot launched himself backward through the air!

"AhI am dead," he announced flatly, hitting the mat.

I stared at my gloves, which had connected with absolutely nothing. "Are you seriously trying to run an insurance scam on me right now?"

All the color drained from his face. He stared at me in absolute horror. "How did you know? Can you read minds?!"

I definitely couldn't read minds. But Pierce seemed to possess a very genuine death wish.

He wasn't a performative drama queen about it like Elara; he actually, literally wanted me to beat him into a pulp.

Honestly? Framing it like that, those two were an absolute match made in heaven.

Take right now, for example. We were suspended mid-air on an amusement park pirate ship ride. Even though his hands were violently shaking like he was going through severe withdrawals, he still made a point to aggressively flip me the middle finger.

Unhinged behavior. Just completely psychotic.

"Did you secretly buy a massive life insurance policy with me as the sole beneficiary?" I asked, raising an eyebrow over the wind.

His eyes darted away guiltily. "Haha, why would you ever think that?"

At that exact momentmaybe God finally got tired of his whining and granted his wisha sharp crack echoed over the screaming machinery.

"Ahhh! I'm flying!"

I watched in real-time as Pierce launched out of his seat. My reflexes kicked in, and I managed to grab a fistful of his designer jacket sleeve.

But the absolute moron started violently flapping his arms, screaming that he was soaring. He thrashed so hard he ripped himself out of my iron grip and plummeted headfirst toward the concrete.

Me:

Me: ?!

Was this idiot actually going to die on my watch?

The entire crowd erupted into pure chaos. The ride operators looked like their souls had abandoned their bodies.

The second the swinging pirate ship hit its lowest point, I unclipped my safety harness and vaulted over the edge.

I tried to calculate the drop to catch him, but our trajectories were completely out of sync.

My heavy combat boots slammed firmly onto the pavement right as Pierce lawn-darted headfirst into the solid concrete.

Clang

A sharp, ringing sound of heavy metal crashing against metal echoed through the park