Chapter 1

Justin Pearson had always looked down on me.

To him, I was nothing but a troublemaker—some useless girl with a bad attitude who only knew how to throw her weight around.

When he found out I wasn't the real daughter of the Pearson family, he didn't even hesitate. He kicked me out on the spot.

He spat, "I don't have a sister like you. Get lost, you little stray."

I didn't argue. I just turned around, set a trap, and got him into my bed.

The next time we met, I walked in holding a little boy who looked exactly like him.

Justin's face darkened, his eyes full of shock and disgust. "So what is he supposed to be? My nephew? Or my son?

"You failed at being my sister, so now you want to be my wife?

"Don't think showing up like this will make me acknowledge either of you."

I gave him a flat look and let out a cold laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. He's your little brother."

I wasn't here to be his wife.

I was here to be his stepmother.

*****

"You've really leveled up," he said, his voice dripping with disgust. "Didn't think you had it in you to pull something this dirty."

Justin looked different now—sharper, colder. The boyish edges he used to have were long gone, carved away by years of fighting his way through the business world.

"So what is this?" he asked. "Still bitter about getting kicked out back then? Hoping this kid will make me take you back?"

He let out a humorless laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. You weren't even good enough to be my sister. You think you could ever be my wife?"

Justin looked down on me like he always had, his voice icy.

"I'll pay child support," he said. "You take him overseas and don't come back. Ever.

"I'll make time to visit him, but he's not calling me 'Dad'. And definitely not 'Uncle'.

"If anything comes up, talk to my assistant. I don't want my kid getting bullied out there.

"And you're not getting remarried. Stepdads who abuse kids are everywhere."

"What stepdad?" A deep, steady voice cut through the room.

The man who walked in carried himself with effortless authority. He wasn't sharp-edged like Justin. He was the kind of powerful that came from years of holding the world in his hands—quiet, controlled, dangerous.

Brandon Pearson stopped beside me, resting a hand on my son's head.

"Take him to the garden," he told the butler.

Once my son, William, was led away, Brandon finally glanced at Justin. "Watch your mouth when you're talking in front of a child."

Brandon had been in charge for so many years that his presence alone could silence a room.

Justin's face tightened. He couldn't help asking. "Dad, are you planning to acknowledge him?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Brandon asked calmly.

Justin's fists clenched, panic bleeding into his voice. "Then what are you planning to tell people about me and him? And his mother?"

Brandon looked genuinely confused. "You gained a younger brother. What's so difficult about that?

"As for his mother, that's none of your concern."

Justin went completely blank.

It took him a long moment before he managed to choke out. "What? A brother?

"Dad, you want me to call my own son my brother?"

Justin's words dropped like a bomb.

The room went dead silent.

Brandon lifted his eyes, looking straight at his grown son.

Justin didn't back down. He stared right back at the man whose authority had shaped his whole life.

"I'll say this once." Brandon's voice was calm, final, immovable. "William's DNA test is done.

"He is my youngest son. Your little brother.

"And I don't want to hear any more of that nonsense from you.

"You're an adult now. Start thinking about the consequences before you open your mouth."

*****

Justin and I had been at odds since we were kids.

The Pearsons were a powerhouse in the business world, and as the eldest son, he was raised to be the heir.

Brandon was always buried in work, but for his brilliant future successor, he still managed to squeeze out a little time to play the strict father.

For me—the mediocre, unwanted illegitimate daughter—he couldn't even be bothered to look in my direction.

At first, his indifference stung.

But eventually, I stopped caring altogether.

If they forced me to follow Justin's routine—waking up at five for swimming and fencing, studying finance until ten at night, then joining international conference calls at one in the morning—I would've lost my mind.

Without anyone supervising me, I grew wild.

I may not have mattered to the Pearsons, but to outsiders, I was still the heiress of a powerful family. Plenty of social climbers tried to cozy up to me.

So I acted however I wanted—loud, reckless, and untouchable.

It only made Justin hate me more.

To him, I was nothing but a spoiled brat who picked fights and hung out with people he considered "trouble".

He didn't like me, and I despised him right back.

I slid porn into his documents so Brandon would beat him for it, and once smeared glue on his suit pants so he'd embarrass himself in a boardroom meeting.

And Justin—who looked like a cold, polished golden boy to everyone else—was actually petty, vindictive, and held grudges like no one I'd ever met.

Back then, I had just started liking someone. I wrote our school's golden boy a sweet little love letter, letting out all the shy, fluttery feelings of a teenage girl.

The next morning, the entire school knew that the notorious campus bully was secretly simping for the most aloof guy on campus.

My reputation tanked overnight.

And the feud between Justin and me only got worse.

Three years ago, everything finally blew up. I had an accident and needed a blood transfusion. That was when the truth came out—loud, brutal, and world-shattering.

My mother had forged the paternity test years ago just to push me into the Pearson household.

Brandon wasn't my father. Justin wasn't my brother.

In an instant, everyone's expression changed.

And before I could even catch my breath, the Pearson family released a public statement.

I would no longer participate in the company, nor would I receive a penny from the family trust.

They were cutting ties with me for good.

The day they kicked me out, Justin stood at the door, arms crossed, leaning lazily against the frame.

His eyes looked at me like I was something he needed to scrape off the bottom of his shoe.

"Get out, little stray," he said, every word dripping with contempt. "Don't dirty our floor."

Each word stabbed straight into my chest, tearing through what little pride I had left.

The metallic taste rising in my throat was unbearable, but I swallowed it down.

I said nothing. I just straightened my back and walked away.