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The Daughter They Threw Away Novel Cover

The Daughter They Threw Away

After being rejected from her father Richard’s Fortune 500 branch by a single point, Serena discovers a devastating truth. The strict hiring rule that disqualified her was custom-made by her father to block her entry, yet completely discarded for her adopted sister, Vanessa. Richard claims it was to avoid nepotism and protect their family's reputation. Deeply betrayed, Serena decides to play by his strict rules. As the year-end tax auditor, she will show his company absolutely no mercy.
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Chapter 3

"Rena?"

Leo Mason paused, his expression shifting as he turned to Vanessa. "Give me a second, okay? Be good."

He offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. The moment he turned back to me, the warmth vanished. He gripped my arm and dragged me away from the crowd.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he said, voice low. "I didn't meet her until after we split."

"Liar." The word scraped my throat. "I know the timeline. She started seeing someone around this time last year. We were still together."

The color drained from his face.

I stepped closer, cornering him. "Leo, did we really break up because of the long distance? Or was there someone else?"

"I..."

"Don't insult my intelligence."

His jaw tightened. Finally, a sharp nod. "Fine. Yes. I cheated. So what?"

The admission hit like a physical blow, but he wasn't done.

"Rena, look at where I came from. My parents worked themselves to the bone just to get me out of that town. I had to claw my way up here. When I saw a chance to secure my future, I took it. Grabbed it with both hands."

Confusion warred with the pain. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The interview for the Fortune 500 branch position. I missed the cutoff score. Wasn't going to get in."

He looked me in the eye, unapologetic. "Vanessa spoke to her father—the General Manager—and got me the offer."

My blood ran cold. "Her father? You're sure it was Richard Whitmore?"

"Yeah."

The ground tilted beneath me.

I, the biological daughter, had been rejected over a minor technicality. Held back by rigid adherence to the rules.

Yet all it took was a single word from Vanessa.

Even a stranger—someone my father had never met—could be ushered through the back door if she asked.

I was the real daughter. But in their world, I was the outsider.

I fought back the stinging in my eyes, forcing my voice steady. "I never thought you were this kind of man, Leo. You used her."

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped. "You have no idea what it takes to survive in City A. Sure, I could have stayed with you. But if another woman offers me a shortcut to a better life, why wouldn't I take it? If you actually loved me, you wouldn't stand in my way."

He scoffed. "And let's be honest, Serena. If you had the same opportunity, you would have dumped me even faster. Don't bother denying it."

I stared at him, unable to comprehend the depth of his selfishness.

"So don't blame me for being realistic," he continued, tone turning condescending. "Blame yourself. You don't have the ability to get into a Fortune 500 company. You don't have Vanessa's connections. And you certainly don't have a father like Richard Whitmore."

I froze. A bitter laugh clawed at my chest.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"What if I told you my father is Richard Whitmore?"

Leo paused.

Then laughed—cold, mocking.

"If you were Richard Whitmore's daughter, you wouldn't have been rejected. Stop making things up. It's pathetic."

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat.

"Leo?"

Vanessa's sweet voice cut through. She approached, brow furrowed with concern as she slipped her arm through his.

"Is everything okay? Is there a misunderstanding?"

"It's nothing," Leo said, demeanor instantly smooth. He glanced at me with disdain. "Just an ex from college. Having a hard time letting go."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her away without a backward glance.

But just before they disappeared into the crowd, Vanessa looked over her shoulder.

Her eyes met mine. Her lips curled—triumphant, knowing, cruel.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out numbly.

"Rena," Margaret's voice came through, sharp and impatient. "It's Sunday. Are you still throwing a tantrum? Your father is furious. Stop making a scene and come home."

"I'm not making a scene," I whispered.

I ended the call before my voice could break.

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