I Was The Fake Heiress—Then Found Real Heir Was My Ex Chapter 01
The Heir Who Wanted Me Gone
The real Ashford heir came home to throw me out.
Then he saw me—and dropped to his knees.
Because the heir was Simon Vale, the billionaire ex-boyfriend I had dumped a year ago.
Three hours earlier, my grandfather had called me.
“Daphne, there’s something you need to know.”
I had just walked out of Cartier with a diamond brooch I absolutely did not need.
I stopped beside my car.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
That sounded worse.
Grandfather sighed.
“You weren’t born an Ashford.”
My hand froze around the shopping bag.
For twenty-two years, I had been Daphne Ashford.
The only daughter of one of New York’s oldest families.
I had been sent to boarding school, trained for charity galas, taught French, finance, and how to smile at people I hated.
Since I was a child, everyone had told me one thing.
One day, Ashford Holdings would be mine.
Apparently, my entire life had been built on a hospital mistake.
Grandfather continued.
“Your parents’ biological child was a boy.”
“A boy?”
“Yes.”
“And where has this mysterious son been for the last twenty-two years?”
A pause.
“He’s already at the house.”
I stared at the traffic.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
I hung up and drove straight to Greenwich.
By the time I reached the Ashford estate, several unfamiliar black cars were parked outside.
Maria opened the front door and immediately looked guilty.
“Miss Daphne.”
That expression told me enough.
I was about to enter the drawing room when a man’s voice stopped me.
Low.
Cold.
Controlled.
“The situation is simple.”
Something about the voice sounded familiar, but I was too angry to think about it.
My father answered.
“She’s been our daughter for twenty-two years.”
“And I’m not asking you to stop loving her.”
The stranger spoke calmly.
“But keeping her here after the truth comes out will only make things harder.”
My fingers tightened around my bag.
My mother said quietly, “Daphne has nowhere else she considers home.”
“She’s an adult.”
The man didn’t hesitate.
“She can move out.”
Wow.
The real heir had been home for less than an hour and had already evicted me.
My father sighed.
“And her room?”
“Clear it.”
The man’s voice stayed indifferent.
“It may be better for everyone.”
I pushed open the door.
“If you’re turning it into a storage room, at least keep my wine fridge.”
Everyone went silent.
My mother shot to her feet.
“Daphne!”
My father looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
And beside the fireplace stood the man who had apparently replaced me.
Tall.
Black suit.
Broad shoulders.
A watch on his wrist that cost more than most houses.
For one second, I thought I was hallucinating.
Then he turned around.
My brain stopped working.
I knew those eyes.
I knew that mouth.
I knew exactly what he looked like with his shirt half-buttoned at two in the morning.
Simon Vale.
Founder of Vale Capital.
Billionaire.
My former boss.
My former boyfriend.
The man who had once gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
The man I had dumped with one sentence.
I’m bored.
Then I had boarded a flight to New York before he could stop me.
Simon stared at me.
His face lost every trace of color.
“Daphne?”
I wanted to disappear.
My parents looked between us.
Simon took one step toward me.
Then another.
The cold man who had been discussing my eviction seconds ago suddenly looked like someone had punched him in the chest.
His eyes turned red.
“You.”
I backed up.
“Hi.”
He crossed the room.
“Hi?”
My father frowned.
“You two know each other?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Simon said at the same time.
Traitor.
Simon stopped in front of me.
His hands were shaking.
I had watched this man negotiate billion-dollar acquisitions without raising his voice.
Now he could barely breathe.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”
My mother blinked.
I considered jumping out the nearest window.
Simon caught my wrist.
“You disappeared.”
“I relocated.”
“You blocked me.”
“I needed space.”
“You changed your number.”
“New phone.”
“You resigned by email at three in the morning.”
“It was a very professional email.”
His jaw tightened.
Then, to my horror, his eyes filled with tears.
“Baby.”
My father coughed.
My mother made a strangled sound.
Simon lowered his forehead against my hand.
“I finally found you.”
Complete silence.
My mother whispered, “Baby?”
I closed my eyes.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
The real Ashford heir had come home to kick me out.
Instead, he was kneeling at my feet like the breakup had happened yesterday.
And judging by the way he was holding me, Simon Vale had not gotten over me.
Not even a little.
Later that evening, I hid in the library.
Simon found me anyway.
Of course he did.
He closed the door behind him.
I pointed at him.
“Stay there.”
He stopped.
“You wanted me gone.”
His expression changed instantly.
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“So if it were another woman, you’d be fine with it?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
At least he was honest.
Simon took one step closer.
I lifted a finger.
“No.”
He stopped again.
“You never told me you were an Ashford.”
“You never told me you were one either.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Exactly.”
That shut us both up.
Simon stared at me like I might disappear if he blinked.
I knew that look.
I had seen it the night he proposed.
And suddenly, London came rushing back.
I had met Simon because I thought he was hot.
That was it.
No destiny.
No grand romance.
Just bad judgment.
I was in London for a graduate program and using my mother’s maiden name, Sinclair, because I didn’t want anyone treating me differently for being an Ashford.
I applied to Vale Capital as an executive assistant because everyone said Simon Vale was impossible to date.
Cold.
Brilliant.
Married to work.
Naturally, I took that as a challenge.
For the first month, I failed.
I wore dresses that should have distracted any normal man.
Simon stared at spreadsheets.
I leaned over his desk.
Simon asked for the Singapore projections.
I invited him to drinks.
He said he had a call.
Finally, one Friday night, while I was driving him home, I snapped.
“Do you have a life outside work?”
Simon looked up from his phone.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Sleeping.”
I nearly drove into a lamppost.
So instead of taking him home, I drove him to a private racing track outside the city.
Simon looked at the cars.
Then at me.
Then back at the cars.
“You kidnapped your employer.”
“You can fire me Monday.”
He didn’t.
He raced me.
And lost.
After that, everything changed.
Weekend races.
Midnight dinners.
A kiss in a rose garden after he pretended not to be jealous of a man flirting with me.
Then Simon started leaving meetings early to see me.
Eight months later, he knelt in front of me with a ring and a share transfer agreement.
“Marry me.”
I stared at the diamond.
Then the contract.
Then him.
I had wanted fun.
Simon had wanted a wife.
So I ran.
Now, a year later, he stood in my family library with the same hurt in his eyes.
“Why did you leave me?”
I looked away.
Because I had no answer that didn’t make me sound terrible.
Simon lowered his voice.
“Was I really that easy to forget?”
No.
That was the problem.
I had not forgotten him once.