The Janitor's Billionaire Daughter

We had been together for five years.

Just as I was preparing to finally tell Blake I was the heiress to the Vance Group, I overheard him chatting with his friends in French at a SoHo restaurant.

"Blake, when is your engagement party with the Prescott girl?"

While tenderly wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of my mouth, Blake replied without missing a beat.

"Next weekend."

A knowing glance passed between them.

"So, what happens to Cora once you're engaged?"

"I'll set her up in an apartment in Brooklyn. She's too pure; I wouldn't want her caught up in the high-society games."

The group erupted in laughter.

"Sounds like Cora is so docile. You've got her completely under your thumb."

Blake kissed my forehead, doing nothing to stop his friends' smug remarks.

I lowered my eyes, a cold, unnerving calm washing over me.

They had no idea I was fluent in six languages, or that I had been running my family's massive art foundation for years.

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1

Blake had taken me to a charity gala.

Unfortunately, I ran into a European gallery owner who recognized me.

"Miss Vance, I'm surprised to see you here. As the director of the Vance Foundation, I can't imagine you have much time for galas like this."

In public, I had always cultivated an image of being low-key and aloof.

After our last successful collaboration, this gallery owner had invited me to several private dinners, all of which I had declined.

Before I could respond, Blake's new Wall Street friends swarmed us, their words dripping with sarcasm.

"Her? Miss Vance?"

"Some girl from Brooklyn who thinks she's a foundation director?"

"That's rich. If she's a director, then I'm the king of England."

"Everyone knows the real Miss Vance is never in New York, and she certainly wouldn't show up at an event like this."

The gallery owner's eyes flickered over me. Humiliated by the crowd's ridicule, he had no choice but to stammer an apology.

"I must have mistaken you for someone else!"

Their targeted mockery made my skin crawl, and I turned and fled the ballroom.

Blake, who hadn't said a word in my defense, followed me out.

"Cora, was that a bit much for you?"

"If you don't like scenes like that, I won't bring you to these events again."

Blake was the illegitimate son of the Wall Street Harrison family.

It was only recently, when the direct family line died out, that he was acknowledged and brought into the fold.

"Did I embarrass you in there?"

Blake forced a smile, feigning pity as he ruffled my hair.

"Of course not. To me, you're the most wonderful girl in the world. No one else even comes close."

"I just hate seeing you get treated like that. It kills me to see you unhappy."

I stared at him, suddenly feeling like the man before me was a complete stranger.

The reason I chose him all those years ago was his sincerity.

I never imagined he could be such a convincing actor.

"Our worlds are so different. If we're going to make this work, this kind of thing is bound to happen."

"Blake, will you still marry me?"

He looked away, flustered.

"Cora, I’ve only just been accepted by the Harrison family. My hands are tied."

"We'll have to put marriage on hold for a little while."

"But I promise you, you're the only one in my heart. That will never change."

For five years, our relationship had been nothing but sweet.

But whenever marriage came up, he would always find an excuse to put it off.

First, it was saving for a down payment on an apartment. After he was accepted by the Harrisons, he claimed he needed to secure his position within the family.

I sympathized with his plight and had already spoken to my father.

The moment Blake proposed, a trust fund would be established for him as a wedding gift.

I am the sole heiress to the Vance Group.

I was a major reason the Vance Group had become a global luxury conglomerate, thanks to my early strategic investments in the art market.

I didn't need money; all I wanted was a genuine heart.

Three days ago, I found a design proposal for an engagement party in his study.

His computer was filled with discarded sketches; he had clearly designed it all himself.

I thought he was finally going to propose.

I had even instructed my staff to prepare for our celebration party.

I was just waiting for his proposal to reveal my identity and give him the surprise of his life.

Who knew I was actually waiting for the announcement of his engagement to Summer Prescott, the daughter of a senior executive from the Vance Group's North American division.

It turned out he never intended to marry me at all.

He wanted to keep me as his secret mistress.

To bask in my affection and care while leveraging Summer's family connections for his own gain.

If he was so eager to throw away a fortune, then I was happy to grant his wish.

I felt a flicker of dark anticipation, wondering what his face would look like when he finally learned the truth.