Page 1 of The Cruel Heir
PROLOGUE
Zara
The Clear ViewCountry Club was more than a playground for the elite. It was a fortress; impenetrable and cold, built to keep the wrong people out, and secrets buried deep within.
I traced the chipped varnish on my doorframe with a fingertip; tiny islands of white where my father’s bowling ball once slammed down in rage. Behind that door lay my world: narrow hallways scented of peppermint lotion, stacks of overdue library books gathering dust, a single violin string wound tight around my dresser knob. Here, I was not an heiress with a contract on my back. I was a girl, daring to breathe in sharp notes, and dream them back out.
From the outside, Clear View shimmered with elegance, its beauty deceivingly calm. But beneath polished marble, and crystal chandeliers, it pulsed quietly with tension, like the uneasy stillness before a storm. Within these pristine walls, the wealthy whispered between champagne glasses, making connections, negotiating deals, securing alliances, andeliminating enemies. Because when everyone had treasure to spare, it came down to who youknew.Bloodlines were the only currency that mattered, and mine was a fresh thread in their pedigree tapestry.
Once upon a time, I was the darlingto know.
My mother built this world for me, hosting gala after gala, charity boards dripping in her name, until cancer took her, and Dad inherited a fortune he never knew how to steward. It didn’t matter that my skin was dark, or that my bloodline was new. What mattered was proximity. But I knew better. Acceptance here was an illusion; one misstep, one moment of defiance, and the fortress walls would crumble around me.
The perfect daughter. The polished ebony heiress. A girl bred for legacy. And yet I never knew why Father and Mother paused behind closed doors, or why my childhood laughter sometimes melted into hushed tones, whenever the Kingsley name arose. Beneath the chandeliers, I was the score they’d written together: crafted to unite two empires, bound by ink I’d never been told to read. I floated across marble in designer heels, my smile sparkling like chandeliers, my knowledge of everything, from politics to world events, purposely curated to the audience I was assigned to charm. I always played my part without error.
Until tonight. I lost everything, and all it took was one mistake at a birthday party.
It started with a text from Chadwick Worthington; the boy everyone said I was lucky to have. The heir to a real estate empire, with generational money, and whiteness buried just deep enough in his bloodline to be considered elite. He was never my sweetheart, just my assignment.
Chadwick once dragged Sterling to the auditorium just to watch me rehearse, and they laughed like summer boys. The day Sterling’s eyes cut sharply across that stage, the laughter soured.In every hallway after, I felt them; one wanting to own me, one wanting to win.
He was also my father’s pet project. A boy I was told to entertain, because he looked good on paper, and wanted me enough to make it matter.
He told me to meet him at the lounge.Alone.
My heart thudded in my chest, each beat whispering warnings I chose to ignore. Compliance was easier than confrontation, silence safer than screams.
I should’ve listened to my body. I knew something was off. My twisting stomach said as much. And when it came to Chadwick, something was always off, an edge beneath his charm, a hidden violence behind each polished smile. But like always, I did my duty and obeyed.
That’s what daughters like me did. Obeyed. Complied. Sacrificed ambition for reputation. Swallowed disgust, and smiled through trauma. Daddy needed me to be desired, so I let myself be consumed.
I hated myself for it, even then. Every silent compromise etched another scar into my soul, but obedience had always been safer than defiance.
I smoothed my dress nervously, every fiber of my being screaming warnings I refused to hear. I'd trained myself to silence my instincts, but tonight they wouldn’t quiet.
The dimly-lit lounge was empty, ominously silent, as if the shadows themselves had conspired with Chadwick, preparing for my undoing. The chilled air made goosebumps rise upon my skin. He waited, sprawled arrogantly across a chaise, a king presiding over a kingdom he had yet to earn.
“There you are,” Chadwick drawled, finally looking up with a slow, calculating smile. “Thought you might make me wait forever.”
I shivered, hearing the veiled menace beneath his charm.
I approached him carefully. "You didn’t say to hurry."
He turned his head, a slow, amused smile curling at the corners. "Then let me not waste any more time. It’s my birthday, Zara. Time to stop playing innocent. I have expectations that you need to meet."
My stomach turned violently, fear and humiliation swirling in a toxic blend. I wanted to run, to scream, to fight, but duty chained me tighter than any rope ever could.
I froze. "We agreed. Six more months."
He stood, looming over me in one smooth motion. "I’m done waiting."
“I’m not ready for sex yet.”
His hands bit into my upper arms as he jerked me closer. “You didn’t even get me a birthday gift.”
“The party is your gift,” I countered.
“And it sucks,” he roared into my face.
