The Billionaire's Lie

I woke up to icy cold water drenching my body, my skin prickling with shock. My stepmother Mary’s voice pierced the room like shattered glass: “How dare you fall asleep on that couch that’s worth more than your filthy life?” I stood, shivering, like a dog caught in a storm. I dared not speak. This wasn’t the first time—and it wouldn’t be the last. My name is Alice Lockwood. I was born to Mr. Henry Lockwood and Kate Lockwood. My mother passed away when I was five, but that never stopped my father from loving me or treating me like a princess. He was a multimillionaire with a chain of companies, so I never knew what it meant to struggle. Life was good—until I turned fifteen, and my father decided to remarry. Her name was Mary, and she had a daughter named Victoria who was nearly my age. At first, I was happy. I thought I was finally getting the sister I’d always dreamed of. Fast forward 5 years later>> It was 8 a.m. when Mary came to wake me up with a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Alice, wake up—you’re going to be late,” she said softly. “Mmm…” I stretched, barely lifting my head. “What’s the time?” I asked groggily, my eyes still half-closed. “It’s 8 a.m.” My eyes flew open. “Oh my God! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” “I tried,” she laughed. I washed my face, threw on my clothes, and rushed downstairs. I practically inhaled my breakfast. My driver was already outside waiting. It was the first day of my final year in business school, and I wasn’t about to be late. The campus buzzed with excitement, students rushing through wide cobblestone pathways, coffee cups in hand, their laughter echoing through the crisp morning air. Nestlébridge had always felt like a second home — grand old buildings wrapped in ivy, the scent of old books mixed with fresh-cut grass. I took a deep breath and smiled. It felt good to be back. I arrived at Nestlébridge University and hurried to class. Thankfully, the lecturer hadn’t come in yet. I slid into my seat just as my best friend, Chloe, looked over at me with a smirk. “I thought you ditched school today,” Chloe teased. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” I replied, chuckling. “Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She laughed. “I know you’ve been dreaming of this day since we started this major.” “What do we have first?” I asked, pulling out my notebook. “Marketing. Mr. Johnson’s class,” she replied. Perfect. Marketing was my favorite subject. Chloe and I had been inseparable since our first year. She was bold where I was reserved, always the first to raise her hand or speak her mind. But we balanced each other out — she brought me out of my shell, and I kept her grounded. I knew that no matter what the year held, with Chloe by my side, I could survive anything. After class, we grabbed some food, ate together, and parted ways. My driver was already waiting to take me home. As I stepped through the door, Victoria greeted me with a grin. She was lounging on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine. “Finally,” she said. “I thought you got lost in school.” “Lost? Please,” I laughed, kicking off my shoes. “You just missed me.” I said and plopped down beside her. We weren’t just step-sisters—we were friends. We shared everything from snacks to secrets, and I was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, this new family could actually work. Life moved smoothly—until the day my father was involved in a fatal accident on his way back from work. As they say, happiness never lasts forever. It was a day like any other. Joyful laughter filled the morning air, but I couldn’t shake the unease left behind by a dream I barely remembered. It clung to me like a shadow — a sinking feeling I couldn’t explain. My father was preparing to leave for a business trip that morning. It wasn’t the first time—he often traveled for work—but something about that day felt... different. Off. I remember walking into the living room, rubbing my eyes, still groggy from sleep. He stood by the window, dressed neatly in a navy-blue suit, sipping his morning coffee. The early sun spilled through the curtains and painted gold on his grey-streaked black hair. “Morning, pumpkin,” he said with a smile. “Sleep well?” “Sort of,” I replied, fiddling with the hem of my oversized T-shirt. “I had a weird dream.” He raised a brow. “A nightmare?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember it. But I have a weird feeling in my chest. Like... something bad might happen.” He walked toward me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’ll be fine. You know I’ve taken this route hundreds of times. I’ll be back before you know it.” I nodded, but the unease still clung tightly. As if the universe wanted to confirm my worry, the framed photo of me and my dad—our favorite from my tenth birthday party—slid off the wall. and shattered. The sound startled me. I stared at the broken glass on the floor, heart pounding. “It’s just an accident,” Mary said, already picking up the pieces. “Don’t be superstitious, Alice.” Still, I couldn’t help the heavy feeling that settled in my chest. Dad kissed my forehead before leaving. “Be good. I’ll call you when I land.” But the phone never rang.