The Billionaire's Secret Heiress

ge & Co. was a constant in my precarious life. Twelve do

inus $153.41 on insulin copay equals just enough to survive. My hands trembled as i arranged a display of self-help books

is shipment?" Marco called, his voice

smile as I approached the tow

ton onto a trolley. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Nah, this looks like the summer romance wave

eled 'Staff Picks'. "Maybe I should write one. Title it 'H

practiced hand. "I'd buy it. Seriously though,

rback sales needed to justify buying brand-name pasta." It was easier to defl

sole, not life-saving medication. Still, the attempt at solidarity was something. "Hey, Mrs. Henderson

nt and spiritually inquisitive customer, was convinced

ably radiating calming energy." Marco

the shop floor's forced pleasantries. The narrow corridor leading to the cramped breakroom smelled faintly of stale microwa

r clench. Were any of them mine? Please, not another unexpected medical charge. I pushed the box asi

Ms. Eleanor Hayes, c/o Page & Co. Bookstore, 14 Chapman Street, New york city. No return address, just an embossed logo i

I murmure

flimsy paper and aggressive red lettering. Maybe a jury summons? Or some bizarre alumn

de, a single sheet of matching heavy paper, folded in thirds. The same eni

nificant personal and legal importance. Following extensive investigation and conclusive genetic testing protocols initiated pu

akroom. Charles Whitmore? The name snagged in my brain, vaguely familiar but utterly disconnected from my reality.

nobody, Eleanor. A ghost.

nicked bird trapped in a cage. "Biological relation?" I muttered, shaking my head. "It made no sense."

a terrible, magnetic pull, needing to see the rest, needing to understand what cosmic error had landed this i