The Heiress They Mistook for a Nobody

I'm the only daughter of the richest man in the nation, and he raised me to do absolutely as I pleased.

At three, I peed on his head. He said it meant we were close.

At eight, I used a drone to rain cash-stuffed red envelopes down over the whole school. He said I had a strong sense of social responsibility.

At fifteen, I drew comics all over my exam answer sheet. He said creativity mattered more than a score.

My stepmother said I was a little demon and needed a firm hand.

That same night, my father sent her packing with nothing to her name.

When I finally reached marrying age, my father searched high and low and picked out a golden catch for me.

Old money from Kingsport, he said. Decent looks, decent character. Just barely worthy of me.

I chartered a private jet home especially for the meeting.

Half an hour later, my match still hadn't shown.

I was starving, so I ordered a plate of braised pork to start.

I'd just lifted a piece to my mouth when a hand came out of nowhere and slapped the fork from my grip.

"How could Miles ever agree to meet someone as low as you? The man isn't even here, and you have the nerve to start eating!"

I set the fork down.

I looked at her chin, tilted high in the air.

It seemed the Farley family's century of old money had finally run its course.

"Dressed like that, and you show up to meet a man? Anyone can tell you crawled out of some backwoods town, a small-town striver who studied her way up and never even heard what Kingsport old money means."

Around us, the waitstaff all held their breath.

This was a private restaurant my father had given me, and every one of them knew exactly what I was capable of.

The woman didn't have the faintest idea she was playing with fire. She flaunted the hand she'd just hit me with, smug and pleased.

"Getting slapped by me is more than three lifetimes of luck could earn you. This arm alone is worth two million, you know."

The Harry Winston full-diamond sunflower piece, the Cartier emerald. Expensive, no doubt.

Pity they were the same kind of trinket I'd been chucking at people like stones when I was five.

Seeing that I stayed quiet, she grew bolder.

"Miles gave me all of it. A hick like you isn't even worthy of touching them."

I lifted the hand holding my water glass and threw the water in her face. It was sixty degrees.

"Aaah"

The woman let out a shriek.

She dropped onto the floor in terror, scrubbing at her cheeks with her sleeves.

Her flawless makeup smeared into a mess, until she looked like a big splotchy alley cat.

Watching her flail around like that, I burst out laughing.

"The water wasn't boiling. You got off easy."

The pack of hangers-on trailing behind her rushed to help her into a chair.

She checked her face in her phone camera, careful and shaky, and once she was sure it wasn't ruined, she jabbed a furious finger at me.

"What are you even? Do you have any idea who I am!"

I raised an eyebrow at her and gave a lazy, amused, "Oh?"

She shot up from the chair, hands on her hips, looking down at me.

"I'm Violet Gilbert, the adopted sister Miles keeps closest to his heart. In all of Kingsport, when I say one, nobody dares say two."

Agreeing to meet Miles Farley at all had already been generous of me.

Now we were forty minutes past our agreed time, and not only had he failed to show up.

He'd sent a kept songbird to disgust me instead.

My face went cold.

"You'd better get clear on who I am."

She let out a scornful little laugh, chin still in the air.

"Who could you possibly be? A wage slave at best, some corporate exec who bookwormed her way into a title."

"Let me spell it out for you. The Farleys are the top family in Kingsport, and only a top beauty like me is worthy of Miles. A country bumpkin like you could try forever and still never get near the Farley door."

With that, she pressed a hand to her face and shouted to the pack behind her.

"Girls, get her."

"Miles already said. If she dies, he'll take the fall for me."

My father always said the Sinclairs and the Farleys were old families, that when old Mr. Farley was young he had once helped him.

So I'd planned, for the old man's sake, to leave Miles Farley some shred of dignity.

Violet Gilbert's words killed the last bit of hesitation I had.

If she'd rather take the hard way than the easy one, then she couldn't blame me for showing no mercy.

Five or six women in barely-there clothes, teetering on heels, closed in around me.

From the look of them, they'd bullied plenty of soft, timid girls before.

Pity for them. This time they'd hit a wall of iron.

Violet stood behind them, running the whole thing.

"Same as always. Rip her hair out first, then carve up her face."

"Let's see if she still dares reach for something so far above her!"

Clearly they'd done this countless times. They even had their own routine down.

I sighed inwardly.

My father had spent decades in business, read more people than anyone, and even he'd been fooled by Miles Farley.

Upstanding, was he?

Please. A man who'd let a kept woman run this wild had a heart darker than anyone could guess.

While I was thinking, one woman's long, sharp nails were already jabbing toward my face.

I turned my head and blocked with my right hand.

She toppled against the marble table, a nail snapped clean off, and she went straight over.

She clutched her hand and shrieked in pain.

The others exchanged glances, not daring to come near me.

I stayed seated, and lifted my eyes just slightly to Violet behind them.

"Violet Gilbert, right? I suggest you get down on your knees and apologize to me right now."

"I'm not someone you can afford to cross. Even Miles Farley wouldn't have the nerve to talk to me like this."

"Apologize my ass!"

Her mouth ran filthy, cursing my ancestors back generations, and when even that didn't satisfy her she shoved up her sleeves and came at me herself to rip out my hair.

I shot up, swung my arm, and slapped her hard across the face.

The force sent her staggering back two steps, nearly dropping to the floor.

"You bitch! You dare hit me! You want to die!"

Her shrill voice nearly split the ceiling.

"Somebody! Drag her out and strip her, do whatever you want with her!"

"When you're done playing, sell her to the black market. The money's your bonus!"

The next second, a dozen or more burly men in suits stormed into the room.

Looking at them, I frowned.

Next time we trained the staff, they needed to learn not to treat every customer like royalty.

Otherwise any stray dog off the street got let in.

Violet thought I was scared. She tipped up her chin and smiled, pleased with herself.

"I know you're a country bumpkin, raised on slop, strong from feeding pigs since you were a kid."

"But no matter how strong you are, can you beat bodyguards?"

She giggled, chin high and smug.

To me she looked exactly like a clown.

I simply picked up another bite of meat, put it in my mouth, and chewed slowly.

The chef was good. I'd give him a raise tomorrow.

Seeing me so calm and unbothered, like she'd punched into cotton, Violet stamped her foot in fury.

"Death's at your door and you're still putting on an act!"

"Let's see if you can keep it up down in hell!"

At Violet's command, two of the men flipped through the air and were at my side in an instant.

One on each side, reaching to haul me up.

Just as their hands were about to touch me, a furious roar came.

"Stop"

It was Miles Farley.

He looked even better than his photos.

Sword-straight brows, bright eyes, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and skin clean and fair better-looking than the top faces in the entertainment world.

The face really wasn't bad.

Pity the heart was black, and the man was a bit stupid.

A perfectly good shell, wasted.

I lifted a brow. "Miles Farley?"

I was about to tell him to deal with that gutter-trash songbird of his.

Before I could finish, he waved me off. "Enough!"

"We've met. I'm not interested in women who've clawed their way up from the bottom like you."

"You've seen for yourself. My woman has to be at least as beautiful and capable as Violet. A backwater striver whose only trick is passing exams? Crawl back to whatever hole you came out of."

I glanced down at my own white tee and jeans.

A little casual, sure. But showing up at all was already doing him a favor.

Clearly old Mr. Farley hadn't told his son a single word about who I was.

Made sense. My father lined up fifty suitors for me, and the moment they heard who I was, they were on their knees kissing up.

Exhausting.

The old man had probably done his homework on my tastes and simply left out my identity, betting that his son's natural charm would set him apart.

Too confident by half. He had no idea what his son's face really looked like in private.

I gave Miles a cold, sidelong look.

"The Farleys are supposed to be old money. You don't even know basic gentlemanly manners?"

"Talking to me like this, aren't you afraid you'll offend the wrong person?"

He looked me up and down and laughed with open contempt.

"You think you're fit to talk manners with me? Manners are for well-bred socialites of our class. Failing that, at least a nine-out-of-ten beauty like Violet. A dirt-poor climber like you? Fit for what?"

"Out the door, turn right, go find a mirror in the restroom and take a good look at yourself. A country hen like you wants to marry up into the Farleys? Keep dreaming!"

"Honestly, I have no idea what the old man sees in you. He called me twenty times, practically forced me to meet you."

I flicked a glance at him.

Before I came, my father had said the Farleys were badly strapped for cash right now.

If I happened to take a liking to the Farley boy, well, I'd bought a batch of islands a few years back. I could just hand the Farleys a few.

The five billion the Farleys owed the Sinclairs could be written off too.

Call it a meeting gift.

I offer face, he throws it back.

Let's see exactly what class he belongs to tomorrow.

I couldn't be bothered with him. I pointed at Violet.

"This woman started a fight on my turf, and a few cups on the table got smashed in the process. How do you plan to settle that account?"

The words were barely out when Violet, tears welling, covered her face and rushed to Miles.

"Miles, this woman hit me, and she hurt my friends too. It hurts so much"

Seeing her all delicate and tear-streaked, Miles's heart ached for her.

"Some worthless piece-of-junk cup you dared lay a hand on my woman?!"

I looked at the blue-lotus glass bowl shattered across the floor and sighed inwardly.

The junk cup he was ranting about was a treasured relic handed down from the Yuan dynasty, the only one of its kind in the world.

Its market price could buy the entire Farley family, except there was no price for it, since no one would ever sell.

I'd heard the Farleys were negotiating a partnership with the Joyces. They'd been grinding over the terms for two months, and Melvin Joyce wouldn't budge an inch.

Melvin was obsessed with antique vessels, and he'd had his eye on this blue-lotus glass bowl for ages.

But I was of the younger generation, so he hadn't felt right competing with me for it.

I'd only brought it along because Miles was good-looking.

I wondered how Melvin would react if he knew Miles not only failed to recognize the piece, but let his kept songbird trash a handed-down treasure he'd longed for, smash it to pieces.

I took out my phone, snapped a few shots of the shattered blue-lotus glass bowl, and sent them to Melvin.

I'd just tapped send.

Pain flared across the back of my hand as my phone hit the floor with a crack.

Miles exploded.

"Anna Sinclair, are you deaf? Can't you hear me talking to you?"

"I think you're tired of living. You touched one of my women, and you've still got the nerve to act this cocky!"

Violet's eyes swam with tears, as if she'd suffered some monstrous injustice. But the sidelong look she threw me was pure smugness.

Enough with the act.

I flexed my wrist and fixed my gaze on her.

"Miles Farley, it was this little songbird of yours who knocked the chopsticks out of my hand first. I hadn't even opened my mouth, and now she's playing the innocent."

Violet squeezed out a single tear, her voice so cloying it made my skin crawl.

"Miles, I know Anna comes from a poor background, so she's used to solving everything with her fists, and her words come out harsh"

"But she can't just throw dirt on me and the girls out of nowhere. It's so unfair to all of us"

Her circle of friends chimed in one after another, all of them insisting I'd struck first.

They wore me down with their noise, and the anger I'd been holding in my chest finally broke loose.

Fine, fine, fine. If you say I struck first, then I'll show you what striking first looks like.

I shot to my feet and crossed to Violet in an instant.

Both hands, back and forth, ten hard slaps with everything I had.

The room went dead silent.

Then Violet screamed.

"Blood"

"Miles it hurts so much"

She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her eyes on me full of fear and hate.

I gave her swollen, puffed-up face a light glance.

"Satisfied now?"

After a brief silence, Violet's little circle erupted.

"Mr. Farley, everyone knows you rule Kingsport, and Violet is the one you hold dearest."

"For her to dare hit Violet is hitting the face of Kingsport's number-one heir!"

They egged him on, one line after another, fanning the flames.

Miles's face went iron-gray. He strode up to me and clamped down on my arm.

"You worthless bitch, don't think just because my father introduced you I won't touch you!"

"On your knees! Kowtow to Violet a hundred times, hard enough to hear it, or I'll make sure you walk in standing and go out flat!"

In all my life, no one had ever dared lay a finger on me.

With my right hand I raised my glass and smashed it against the table.

Then I snatched up a shard and drove it at the hand gripping my arm.

He couldn't dodge in time and let go.

Before he could recover, I kicked him back.

He lost his footing and dropped into a chair, red-faced with rage.

"You really are sick of living!"

He raised his right hand and gave the order. "Get her! I don't care if she lives or dies!"

The dozen or so bodyguards behind him rushed forward at once, holding nothing back.

My father had brought in an heir of close-combat martial arts to train me since I was small, but there were simply too many of them.

I went down fast.

Miles had knocked my phone to the floor again, so there was no way to call for help.

In the split second I was trying to find an opening, a dagger drove hard into my right shoulder.

The pain broke a cold sweat over me. I gritted my teeth and warned him.

"Miles Farley, you're the one who doesn't want to live!"

"Hurt me, and the whole Farley family isn't enough to pay it back!"

Violet and her pack of friends burst out laughing.

"You country bumpkin, I think you've lost your mind."

"The Farleys have their hands everywhere. Even if you die right here today, no one will dare say a single word against it."

Her tone was haughty, her eyes bright with the pleasure of a long-awaited revenge.

I backed toward the wall, edging step by step into the corner.

Miles thought I'd finally lost my nerve, and grew even more arrogant.

"Keep going! Beat her until she can't move!"

Violet leaned against Miles's chest, her smile brimming with a victor's smugness.

The whole crowd watched me like it was a show, as if I were an ant they could crush underfoot whenever they pleased.

Finally.

Got it.

I pressed the button hard.

All at once, the alarm blared out.