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The Shameless and Invincible True Heir Novel Cover

The Shameless and Invincible True Heir

After returning to his wealthy family, the true heir is mocked as a provincial outsider by elite peers and a manipulative imposter. When a prestigious gift arrives from an old-money family, the fake heir, Ryan, smugly claims it as proof of his upcoming engagement to an heiress. However, the protagonist recognizes the item as a standard employee welcome package from his own company, the Harrington Group, exposing a massive lie.
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Chapter 1

I'd barely been welcomed back into the inner circle when the fake heir tried to pull me into his little crew.

The other rich kids, of course, couldn't resist messing with me. They pushed me to smoke and drink, treating me like some obedient stooge.

I was pissed—steam practically coming out of my ears. He, meanwhile, put on this innocent act and said, "Hey, go easy on my brother. He just moved back from the middle of nowhere and doesn't know how things work around here. I'll take this one for him."

Everyone ate up his "loyalty," and just like that, my reputation as some clueless hick was sealed.

That day, he was set on dragging me to another rich-kid party. I was about to put my foot down when, out of nowhere, the steward from one of the capital's old-money families showed up at our door.

He said it was a special order from the lady's father—an extravagant gift.

My parents' faces lit up instantly. They clapped the fake heir on the shoulder, practically glowing with pride. "Ryan, you've made us proud! Looks like Sophia's family is more than pleased with you. This engagement—well, it's as good as done!"

Ryan straightened his tie with practiced charm, shooting me a smug, taunting look.

But when I glanced at the label on the gift box, I couldn't help but laugh.

Every new hire at Harrington Group gets the same welcome package.

If the Chairman of Harrington Group knew someone was mistaking it for an engagement gift for his daughter, he'd be furious enough to lose sleep.

As Ryan Sanders ran his fingers over the gift box stamped with the Harrington Group logo, his eyes practically sparkled with pride.

He even tried to play humble.

"Pete, don't worry about it. Honestly… I always figured this match was supposed to be yours. After all, you're Mom and Dad's real son. It's my fault—I've been in this scene so long, Sophia just assumed it should be me. If it makes you uncomfortable, the gift's yours."

I watched his little performance and nearly laughed out loud.

Sophia—the little terror herself? Everyone knew she was obsessively detail-oriented, borderline insane. She'd make someone redo a presentation three times over a single misplaced comma.

If Ryan wanted to walk straight into the fire, who was I to stop him?

Biting back a grin, I waved him off. "Don't sweat it. Keep it. I don't need that kind of luck anyway."

His face tightened. He'd expected me to turn green with jealousy, but instead, it was like punching a pillow.

"Pete, you're being… very generous," he said through gritted teeth, turning to our parents. "Mom, Dad, it's getting late. I'll take Pete upstairs to rest."

They were still riding high on the prospect of latching onto the Harrington family and readily agreed.

But the second we reached the second floor, Ryan's smile dropped.

He stopped, leaned against the wall, and shot me a cold sneer, "Pete, don't act like you don't care. You're dying of jealousy, aren't you?"

Excuse me? I already said I don't care—does this guy have short-term memory loss?

"Let me make this clear—no matter what, this family and even the Harrington marriage are mine! You're just some hick from nowhere. The only thing you're good for is licking my boots!"

Then, without warning, he lunged toward my shoulder and let himself tumble backward.

"Pete! Why'd you push me?"

The move was so slick you'd think he'd starred in a dozen soap operas.

Too bad he was dealing with me.

The moment he hit the floor, I planted my feet, drew in a breath, and let out a yell ten times louder than his, "Ryan! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Before he could react, I was on top of him, swinging both fists left and right, hammering that pretty-boy face.

Whack! Whack!

Each blow landed sharp and solid—no mistaking the force behind them. I shouted in fake panic as I swung, "Ryan! Don't scare me like this! Wake up! If anything happens to you, how am I supposed to face Mom and Dad?!"

"Pete, you—!"

He tried to push himself up, but I landed two more slaps. Whatever he meant to scream got knocked right back down his throat. His cheeks were already starting to swell under the hits.

Hearing the commotion, Mom and Dad came running up in a panic.

"What's going on?! What happened?!"

Ryan tried desperately to open his eyes a sliver, mumbling incoherently, "Mom… he hit me…"

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