Mirabelle's POV

I didn’t say another word. I just gave a small smile and walked away.

My dad and my aunt’s wedding was set for the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Yet I never got an invitation, but it was not that I would go.

Of course, that didn’t stop the internet from drowning in photos and videos of the big day.

In the pictures, my aunt was draped in a custom-made wedding gown, leaning happily against my father’s arm, while Grandma stood nearby, her smile so wide it deepened every wrinkle on her face.

Barely a year later, the news broke again that my aunt had given my dad a son. My dad was over the moon, and he booked a hundred tables for the baby’s monthsary. Online, people called it karma, said he deserved the blessing of a son.

Then they turned on me. They said I was the kind of person who’d never even be served eight dishes at a meal in this lifetime.

At school, people also pointed and whispered when I walked past. Once they realized I’d never inherit our family fortune, they kept their distance. They said anyone who could turn her back on the stepfather who raised her had no conscience and wasn’t worth befriending.

Having heard those rumors, Pansy, my best friend, was furious on my behalf.

“I don’t believe for a second you’re ungrateful,” she said, clutching my arm. “But seriously, what now? Billions just slipped away! I still don’t get what you were thinking. Even if you wanted him to have his own child, you didn’t need to go so far as making a public announcement that you were cutting ties.”

I just sighed, but still said nothing.

Seeing me still not explaining, she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I swear, I’ll never understand you. What exactly happened between you and your dad? Why won’t you just tell me?”

Not long after, tragedy struck, and my dad died suddenly of a heart attack.

My aunt and Grandma called, insisting I come home for the funeral.

Pansy, worried they might try something, insisted on coming with me.

When we arrived, the truth came out. They hadn’t called me home just to mourn. They wanted to settle my father’s estate.

The company’s accountants worked day and night for a week to tally it all up, and the amount my father had left behind was over a billion in cash. On top of that, he’d always loved buying real estate. Now we had properties scattered all over the world.

Pansy clutched her head in anguish. “Mirabelle, I told you not to be stupid! Now look. If you hadn’t cut ties, all of this would’ve been yours!”

Right then, my aunt appeared, holding my baby half-brother in her arms. She looked at us coldly and spat, “Dream on. Why should a thankless brat like her get a cent of our family’s money? Let me make it clear. My son is the sole heir to Manfred’s estate. And as for you, I demand you return everything you ever took from our family.”

I met her gaze. “Are you sure about that?”

She puffed up proudly and bounced the baby slightly, as if showing him off.

“Of course I’m sure. I’d advise you to hand it all back without a fuss. The whole internet’s watching. Let’s see if you have even a shred of conscience left.”

Only then did I notice the cameras. She’d actually invited the media.

On a massive screen, the livestream chat scrolled endlessly, thousands of viewers spitting venom.

[How shameless can she get? Saying she cut ties, but still using his money and living in his house!]

[Exactly! Mr. Holt raised her, and she still publicly severed ties? If that’s not being ungrateful, what is?]

My aunt smiled smugly at the uproar. “Come on, then. I know exactly what my late husband gave you. Don’t bother denying it. And thank you, dear viewers, for helping a poor widow and her orphaned child seek justice.”

Mirabelle's POV

I gave a cold, sharp laugh. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be talking like that?”

Right then, two men in light-colored suits walked in behind James Mack, the butler. Each wore a badge with the official emblem of the notary's office.

James went straight to my aunt’s side and whispered, “These two are from the notary’s office. Before he passed, Mr. Holt made a will. They’re here to deliver it.”

My aunt’s face tightened with suspicion. “Come with me. We’ll talk privately.”

But the livestream audience wasn’t having it.

[Oh, so when you wanted her inheritance, you wanted us to watch. But now there’s a will, and you want to hide it?]

[Something’s fishy. Everyone knows Mr. Holt treated Mirabelle like his own. Who in their right mind would give that up?]

[And let’s not forget. The ‘new wife’ is Mirabelle’s aunt. A woman who sets her sights on her own brother-in-law is not exactly the picture of morality.]

Comments kept pouring in, the feed scrolling nonstop. My aunt clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Let them read it here. My son is Manfred’s only biological child. What do I have to be afraid of?”

The notary staff broke the red wax seal in front of everyone. One of them unfolded the will, showed it to his colleague for confirmation, then looked up.

“Which one of you is Miss Mirabelle Holt?”

Slowly, I raised my hand. “That’s me.”

He glanced back at the paper and said clearly, “All assets under Mr. Holt’s name are to be inherited entirely by Miss Mirabelle.”

The room froze.

My aunt’s face went pale. She lunged forward and snatched the will from his hands. “Impossible!”

I couldn’t believe it either. Even if my father had cared for me, now that he had a son, how could he possibly leave everything to me?

The comment section also erupted.

[No way! Sure, he might’ve liked her a lot, but all of it? That’s absurd.]

[Didn’t she make a public announcement cutting ties with him? And now he has a son. Why would he leave her everything?]

[So what really happened back then? Why did she insist on ending things with him?]

While everyone was still reeling, my aunt suddenly burst out laughing twice.

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? Because little Mirabelle learned how to seduce men at a young age.”

She leaned forward, voice dripping with mockery. “My sister died early when Manfred was barely in his forties, a man in his prime. Yet he never remarried and just stayed in that house with this little orphan for all these years. You expect me to believe nothing happened between them? Please.”

My grandmother’s eyes darted slyly before she chimed in, “My daughter’s right. That girl’s been a temptress since she was a teenager. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, hugging him around the waist like she owned him.”

Fury burned through me, and I snapped, “Grandma, don’t make things up! Aren’t you afraid of the consequences, saying things like that at your age?”

But the audience didn’t care what I said.

[Her mom died when she was in high school, right when girls started feeling things. Makes sense.]

[The aunt’s story checks out. Back then, Manfred was still handsome. No wonder he treated her so well. She was basically his young wife.]

[And now it makes sense why she cut ties the moment she got into college. It’s all adding up.]

[But seriously, what kind of man is this Manfred? His current wife just gave him a son, and he still leaves every cent to Mirabelle? What’s his wife and kid supposed to live on? Fresh air?]

The live chat was filling up with comments like that, eating up every lie my aunt and grandmother had been feeding them. They kept throwing dirt on me and my dad, and the more I stayed quiet, the more it stuck.

My aunt, meanwhile, looked like the cat who’d just caught the canary. She put on this pitiful, wronged expression, milking the sympathy from the viewers.

“So, dear viewers, you have to stand up for us, a poor widow and her orphaned son,” she said sweetly. “I am Manfred’s lawful wife, and my son is his legitimate child. Not like this little temptress here, who, at such a young age, already knows how to steal a man’s heart!”

Now, the only person who seemed genuinely worried for me was Pansy. She grabbed my arm and whispered urgently, “Mirabelle, you’re killing me here! What on earth happened between you and your dad? Just tell them already!”

But I couldn’t. If I said it out loud, my father’s entire reputation would be destroyed.

The viewers didn’t know that, though. They just saw me hesitating and decided they’d guessed right. The insults then started flying so thick and fast in the chat that it was like a tidal wave of hate.

My grandma and aunt were also throwing a deathly glare at me.

Just then, two police officers entered the hall behind James. One of them was holding a sealed file.

“Hold on. We also have a DNA report.”