Sloane Sterling, the reigning princess of Manhattan, despised the poor, and I was the sharpest thorn in her side. I clawed my way out of the Bronx slums on a full scholarship to Blackwood University—an institution built for the elite.

"You think a rat from the Bronx like you is worthy of breathing the same air as me?"

My locker was stuffed with garbage, and the internet was flooded with viciously photoshopped pictures of me. Sloane Sterling even intentionally swerved her Porsche onto the sidewalk to break my leg—all because I was poor.

To survive, and to have my revenge, I set my sights on her real estate mogul father, a man desperate for an heir. Marcus Sterling, a man who was never short on female company. Unfortunately for him, he had no children besides Sloane.

Sloane saw me as a disposable toy, but she had no idea the women in my family are blessed with astonishing fertility. My plan was to give this real estate mogul seven sons and one daughter.

With me and my eight children in the picture, what chance did Sloane ever have?

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1

"I can't believe you dared to show up," Sloane Sterling sneered, pinching her nose as if she'd caught a whiff of something foul. Dressed in a haute couture gown, she glared at me. "You're disgusting, you filthy little rat."

Sloane, the sole heiress to Manhattan's real estate king, Marcus Sterling, had invited me to her birthday party at her penthouse apartment. Her goal, predictably, was to humiliate me in front of a crowd of socialites.

She wore that cruel smile I knew all too well. "How about I help you get cleaned up?"

The words barely left her mouth before her foot shot out, shoving me backward into the rooftop infinity pool.

To appear presentable here, I had spent every last cent I had—a pitiful three hundred dollars—on a discounted white dress.

I struggled to climb out of the pool. The soaked white dress had turned transparent, clinging to my body, cold and heavy against my skin.

Her cruel gaze swept over me, and then she let out a sneer. "Get a thrill showing off your cheap underwear?" she mocked. "Or does trash like you just not care who sees it?"

I clutched my arms over my chest as piercing laughter echoed around me, and I turned and bolted into the apartment.

Feigning panic and unfamiliarity with the enormous penthouse, I ran straight for the master bedroom at the end of the hall. I shoved the bathroom door open and immediately collided with a wall of a chest.

An expensive scent of cologne mixed with whiskey instantly enveloped me. I clutched my smarting nose and apologized in a trembling voice, "I… I'm sorry…"

A low chuckle rumbled from above my head.

"Well, hello there," the voice rumbled. "And what have we here? A little thing, lost and all wet?"

Bewitched by the sound, I slowly looked up and met a pair of deep-set eyes. His features were so perfect they seemed sculpted, every line exuding a mature, masculine charm that was utterly lethal under the warm bathroom lights.

It was him. Marcus Sterling. Sloane's father.

His eyes raked over my body. Beneath the drenched dress, the rise and fall of my chest and my delicate curves were tantalizingly visible. My lips parted, my expression a perfect picture of pitiable shock.

His gaze darkened in an instant. The next second, his scorching hand clamped around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. His hoarse voice rasped in my ear, "Soaking wet," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, "and exceptionally tempting."

He gave me no time to react before his mouth crashed down on mine, a fiery, demanding kiss that stole my breath. His kiss was filled with an undeniable possessiveness that nearly suffocated me.

Suddenly, I felt my body lift as he swept me up into his arms.

I let out a stifled gasp, my eyes wide as I looked up at him, the picture of helpless innocence.

My innocence seemed to please him. He quirked his lips. "Don't be scared. I promise to be gentle."

I shyly buried my face in his solid chest, but where he couldn't see, the corner of my mouth curled into a cold, triumphant smirk.

How could I be afraid of him? After all, every step of this "chance encounter" was meticulously planned.

I was born in the slums of the Bronx and was admitted to Blackwood University on a scholarship for my outstanding grades.

I had arrived on campus brimming with hope, only to be met with Sloane's ridicule on my very first day. I remembered her staring at my faded jeans and exclaiming dramatically, "Oh my God, have the admission standards really dropped this low?"

Because of that single sentence, my college life descended into hell. I was ostracized, locked in the women's restroom, and my locker was stuffed with rotting food.

Sloane and I were classmates, yet we lived in two different worlds.

I thought if I just endured it, she would lose interest, but she only grew more vicious. This woman, purely for her own twisted amusement, had intentionally swerved her car onto the sidewalk and struck me.

After that accident, she strode to my hospital bed in her high heels and threw a stack of cash at my face. "You got yourself hit for a payday, didn't you?" she sneered. "Here. Take it."

I lay in the hospital for three whole months with my leg in a cast. Yet, because Caleb Shaw, the boy Sloane had a crush on, came to visit me, she burned my arm with a cigarette. "Didn't you know Caleb is mine? How dare you try to seduce him?"

I thought the next time she'd just finish the job, but instead, I received an invitation to her birthday party.

I stared at the gold-embossed invitation, knowing my chance had come. Tonight, I had to teach Sloane a lesson she would never forget. Otherwise, I would never know a moment of peace.

At that thought, I wound my arms around Marcus's neck and whispered in a hoarse, trembling voice, "Please, be gentle. This is my first time."

"Dad—"

The next morning, Sloane screamed as she burst into her father's bedroom. The next second, she froze completely.

She saw my naked body, lying peacefully in her father's bed, cradled in Marcus's arms.

Sloane instantly lost control, pouncing like a wild animal, her sharp nails ready to tear me from the bed. "You bitch! Are you that desperate for a man? You slept with my father? I'm going to kill you!"

I didn't flinch, merely looking at her with the wide, innocent eyes of a startled animal before quickly lowering my gaze. But my violently trembling shoulders were a dead giveaway of my "fear."

"That's enough, Sloane." Sated from the night's exertions, Marcus propped himself on an elbow, lazily watching the drama unfold.

"Dad, how could you let her seduce you?" Sloane stopped, stomping her foot and pleading with him.

Marcus's gaze fell on me as I curled into a ball, crying silently. He tried to soothe Sloane, "She's just a fling. Your mother's been gone for years, and I have my needs."

"But... but..."

"That's enough. You're an adult. Stop being so immature. Get out."

Sloane shot me a vicious glare before reluctantly releasing her grip on the bedsheet.

"Dad, I never cared who you were with, but why does this woman get to spend the night? She doesn't deserve to sleep in this bed!" The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, her voice rising in a sharp question.

Marcus's face darkened, and he barked, "Get out!"

At breakfast, Sloane's jaw dropped when she saw me being personally escorted to the dining table by Marcus.

I sneered inwardly; this was all going according to my script.

After Sloane had stormed out, I had huddled pitifully at the foot of the bed until Marcus’s eyes found me. With a blush, I had explained that last night had been… overwhelming, and I could barely stand.

My words stroked his ego perfectly. He practically purred as he helped me downstairs, clearly relishing his morning’s conquest.

Sloane completely lost her appetite. She suddenly said wistfully, "If only Mom were still here."

A chill fell over the dining room. She shot me a pointed look and began reminiscing in front of Marcus about her childhood with her mother. Finally, she concluded, "Dad, I don't care how many women you have, because I know you promised Mom you would never remarry."

Her finger was practically in my face. "Dad, you can be with anyone but her. I hate her. Please, don't see her again."

After a long silence, Marcus slowly nodded. The answer wiped the gloom from Sloane's face. She excitedly hugged her father and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. "You're the best, Dad!"

Then, like a triumphant general, she barked at me, "Get out!"

With tears in my eyes, I gave Marcus a long, meaningful look, not saying a single word to plead my case.

"Alright, alright. Let her finish her breakfast."

A dead silence fell over the table.

He finally spoke. "I never asked your name."

"My name is Clara Hayes," I answered softly, then quickly lowered my head. "I'm finished eating."

He frowned, glancing at my nearly untouched plate. In the end, he just took a checkbook from his suit pocket, signed it, and handed it to me. "Take this, and have the driver take you home."

I glanced at it. A check for one million dollars.

After that night, my life became even harder. Sloane's attacks on me intensified.

"Did you think sleeping with my dad would let you climb the social ladder? You'll never wash the stink of poverty off you! You will always be something I scrape off my shoe!"

Is that so?

I smirked, my hand unconsciously caressing my flat stomach. Sloane had no idea I came from a family with a special gift. The women in my family possess an almost supernatural fertility, and our wombs are like fortresses.

My mother had given birth to ten children. My aunt had eight.

After that one night with Marcus, I could already feel a tiny life taking root in my womb. Sloane, the so-called princess of Manhattan, thought she could do whatever she wanted as the sole heir to the Sterling fortune.

But she had no idea her competition was already on its way.

I endured Sloane's bullying, but I knew Marcus missed me. I could feel the eyes of the men he’d sent to watch me from the shadows.

For a middle-aged man desperate for an heir, the madness of that night was an addiction he couldn’t break.

Since our night together, other women had become pale imitations. None could replicate that intoxicating ecstasy.

So, when I found out he would be attending a charity gala, I wasn't surprised at all.

I believed that by the thirtieth day, his patience had reached its limit. So, at that gala, wearing an ill-fitting old dress, I deliberately approached Sloane and provoked her in a low voice, "The only reason you're targeting me is because you're terrified I'll become your stepmother, isn't it?"

Sloane met my audacity with a sneer. "You? Worthy? Just look at yourself."

"We'll find out who's not worthy soon enough."

I had been avoiding her for days, but my uncharacteristic confrontation today was all it took. As expected, she took the bait instantly. Her entourage swarmed me, pushing and cursing.

When I saw Marcus's imposing figure appear at the entrance of the ballroom, I mouthed silently to Sloane, "You idiot."

Sloane had never been able to withstand provocation. Just as I predicted, she charged at me like an enraged bull.

The moment Marcus was within earshot, my defiance melted away. "Sloane, I'm sorry!" I pleaded timidly. "Please forgive me. I don't know what I did to offend you, but I apologize!"

Sloane didn't stop. She pushed me to the ground with all her might. At the same time, a friend I had arranged "accidentally" knocked over a waiter's tray, and a glass of red wine spilled perfectly across my white dress, blooming like a startling bloodstain over my abdomen.

"My stomach... it hurts so much..."

"She's bleeding!"

Screams erupted from the crowd.

The next second, Marcus's tall figure had parted the crowd and swept me up from the floor. The feigned despair in my eyes melted away, replaced by a flash of triumphant ecstasy.

"It's our child!"

My words silenced the entire ballroom. Marcus rushed out the door with me in his arms, bundled me into his stretch limousine, and sped towards the hospital.

Sloane finally snapped out of her shock, but when she chased after us, she only saw the disappearing taillights. She stood there, grinding her teeth in fury.