The Poor Daughter They Ignored Was Actually A Billionaire Chapter 07
Richard had a driver take me back to the hotel.
The second I stepped into my suite, my phone started buzzing.
The family group chat had more than two hundred messages.
My mother had sent six voice notes.
“Elena, where are you?”
“Come home.”
“I made up your room.”
Then another.
“Mom was angry earlier.”
“I said things I didn’t mean.”
“What mother doesn’t love her child?”
Another.
“Do you remember when you got sick when you were five?”
“I stayed awake all night with you.”
“You’ve always been my daughter.”
My father sent a paragraph.
“Elena, your mother and I made mistakes.”
“But Sabrina always did well in school.”
“We had limited resources.”
“We thought we were investing in the child with the better future.”
“Now we know how wrong we were.”
Then:
“I’m proud of you.”
I stared at those four words.
Proud of you.
He had never said them when I was seventeen and studying until three in the morning.
He had never said them when I left home with one suitcase.
He said them now.
After Richard Sterling bowed to me in front of a ballroom.
Elliot’s messages came next.
“Elena, this is insane.”
“Everyone at my office is posting about you.”
“My boss just texted me and asked if Dr. Elena Bennett is really my sister.”
Another.
“You should’ve told us.”
Then:
“Seriously, you should’ve told me.”
I laughed.
There it was.
Not I’m sorry.
You should’ve told me.
Ethan wrote privately.
“Elena.”
“I spoke out of line.”
“I didn’t know the full situation.”
“Honestly, you were always smarter than the rest of us.”
I read that twice.
In high school, Ethan had once told Sabrina, right in front of me, “At least you’re the smart sister.”
Now apparently I had always been the smart one.
Melanie’s message was longer.
“I’m genuinely so proud of you.”
“This is all so crazy.”
“You’ve become such an amazing woman.”
“I hope success hasn’t made you think the rest of us are beneath you.”
I smiled.
There it was too.
Praise with a blade hidden inside it.
I put my phone down.
Then it buzzed again.
Sabrina.
One message.
Please call me.
I didn’t.
I poured myself a glass of water.
Outside the windows, Newport glittered against the dark water.
When I was eighteen, I imagined coming back rich.
Successful.
Untouchable.
I imagined my family staring at me with regret.
I thought it would feel like winning.
Instead, I mostly felt tired.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, Richard Sterling.
Thank you for today. Legal will send the first draft tomorrow morning.
I replied.
Good.
Then I turned my phone face-down.
And went to bed.