A Family that was Never Mine

Chapter 1: The Girl They Call Bastard My name is Anastasia Beverly. I am the youngest daughter of Mrs. Alexa Beverly and the wealthy, powerful Matheo Samuel. But in this house, in this family, those facts hardly matter. Because from the moment I could understand words, everyone has whispered the same thing: She is a bastard. Not truly a Samuel at all. They say I am the shame of my mother - a child born from some secret affair, with no drop of Matheo Samuel's blood running in my veins. They say I don't belong in this grand estate, don't deserve the name, and certainly have no right to the Samuel fortune. Even my own mother treats me like a heavy burden she never wanted. Her eyes are always cold when they fall on me; she never holds me, never defends me, never calls me her daughter with any warmth. When people speak of my birth, she looks away, her face pale and tight, as if she is ashamed - not of the story they tell, but of something else entirely, something she dares not speak. My father, Matheo Samuel, is rarely home. He is a man of business, of power, a name that commands respect across the country. And when he does come home, he looks at me with a furrowed brow, as if he is trying to solve a puzzle he cannot figure out. Sometimes I catch him staring at me - at my eyes, my hair, the shape of my face - and for a heartbeat, I think he sees something familiar. Then his jaw tightens, and he turns away. He never calls me his daughter. But he never officially disowns me either. He just... lets them call me what they want. And leading every whisper, every cruel remark, every judgmental stare is Aunt Eunice Beverly - my mother's own sister. She is the one who speaks the word bastard the loudest, who reminds everyone at the dinner table exactly what I am. She smiles that sweet, poisonous smile and says, "Poor Alexa, one perfect family, and then... this mistake." She watches me constantly, like a hawk, making sure I know my place - at the very bottom, invisible and unworthy. My three older siblings - Elias, Seraphina, and Gabriel - are everything I am told I am not. They are beautiful, poised, confident. They sit at the center of every family photo. They receive the best tutors, the finest clothes, the praise that seems to flow endlessly toward them. They are the true heirs. They are the pride of both the Beverly and Samuel names. And they treat me with polite distance at best, open disdain at worst, as if being near me might somehow stain their perfection. All I know is the weight of the word bastard. All I know is the coldness of this house, the loneliness of my small room at the end of the hall, the way everyone looks right past me as if I don't exist. All I know is that I ache for a love I have never truly been given, and I wonder - if I am not a Samuel, then whose am I? Why do I look so much like the man who refuses to claim me? Why does my heart beat with a fire that feels too strong, too proud, to belong to a mistake? Tonight, as I sit alone by my window watching the stars come out, I hug my arms around myself and make a quiet, desperate promise - not to a legacy, not to a name, but to the girl no one sees. One day, I will know the truth about who I am. And one day, I will make them stop calling me that. Somewhere down the hall, Aunt Eunice's laughter drifts through the closed door. She has no idea that the very thing she is trying to hide is sleeping under her roof, growing stronger every day. Author's POV: The true heir has no idea that she is the heir. But the blood never lies. Hi reader's 😊🩷 I hope you like it and thank you for reading... Please help me vote it Thanks 😘 Chapter 2: The Fabricated Sin - A Flashback ⚠️ Mature / Adult Content Warning: This chapter contains intimate, explicit scenes and mature themes intended for adult readers only. All characters depicted in intimate contexts are of legal age. This narrative serves to show the deep betrayal, manipulation, and tragedy that shaped Anastasia's life - not for gratuitous content. Eunice's Master Plan Begins It began seven years before Anastasia was born, in the quiet, gilded drawing room of the Samuel estate. The air smelled of expensive roses and old money, and outside, manicured gardens stretched like a green sea to the iron gates. Eunice Beverly sat on a velvet sofa, sipping tea, her mind spinning with calculations as sharp as the diamonds at her ears. She had always lived in her sister's shadow. Alexa - soft, beautiful, gentle - had married Matheo Samuel: the formidable, wealthy heir to a business empire, a man of striking presence, whose name alone commanded respect across the country. Eunice, ambitious and hungry, had never forgiven the world for handing Alexa everything she had ever wanted. And she would never, ever let a true Samuel heir take what she believed her own children deserved. Matheo and Alexa had been married for three years, and there was still no child. The whispers had started - among the board members, the old families, the servants. Is there something wrong? Will the line end with Matheo? Eunice saw her opening. She went to Alexa with a smile, a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sister, don't grieve. There are children who need love. We can build your family. Start with a daughter - sweet, quiet, perfect. She can be your little princess." And so it began. ✦ The First Adoption - Seraphina Eunice handled everything - the documents, the agency, the lies told to Matheo about "a natural pregnancy, kept quiet for safety." Alexa, desperate to be a good wife, desperate to fill the silence of her home, agreed. Seraphina arrived at six months old - golden-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful. Matheo held her, his face softening in a way no one had ever seen. He was overjoyed. He never questioned why she looked nothing like him. He was too happy to have an heir. Seraphina was named their firstborn, the beloved daughter, the golden child. Eunice smiled to herself. The first piece was in place. ✦ The Second Adoption - Elias Two years later, Eunice came again. "One child is lonely, Alexa. Matheo wants a son eventually. A boy to carry the name. Why not another now?" Again, the papers were forged, the stories spun. Elias came to them - dark-haired, sturdy, bright-eyed. Matheo beamed with pride. "My son," he called him from day one. He taught him to shake hands, to sit tall, to one day lead. Alexa loved him deeply - he was her boy, her heart. She never spoke the truth. Fear and gratitude had sealed her lips. Two children, both adopted, both hailed as Samuel flesh and blood. Eunice's power grew. ✦ The Third Adoption - Gabriel Three years after that, Gabriel joined them. A baby with a mischievous smile and quick mind. Matheo joked that he was the wildest of the three, the one who would keep the family interesting. He doted on them all equally - Seraphina the gentle, Elias the heir, Gabriel the joy. They were the perfect family. The public adored them. The newspapers printed their photos. No one knew. Not a soul. Three children - none of them carrying even a drop of Matheo's blood. All of them Beverly-Samuel in name only. And Eunice watched, waiting, biding her time. Because the one thing she feared - the one thing that could shatter everything - was a true heir. A child born of Matheo and Alexa's own flesh. The Night Everything Changed - The Conception It was a Tuesday in late April, the air warm and heavy with jasmine through the open French windows. The house was quiet - the children asleep, the servants dismissed for the evening. Alexa stood before the mirror in her silk chemise, her fingers brushing the locket Matheo had given her on their wedding day. She was twenty-eight then, her beauty soft and luminous, but her eyes held a quiet sadness. She loved her three children with all her heart, but a part of her ached - she had never been able to give Matheo a child of their own. Sometimes she wondered if he knew. If he suspected. But he never said a word. The door opened, and Matheo walked in. He was thirty-four, broad-shouldered, his dark hair still damp from his evening shower, wearing only black trousers. The moment his eyes found her, the tension in his shoulders melted away. In this room, in this quiet hour, he was not the powerful tycoon - he was just her husband. He walked up behind her in the reflection of the mirror, his hands settling warm and heavy on her waist. His chin rested on her shoulder, and she leaned back into him, her hands covering his where they lay over her stomach. "You're thinking too much again, my love," he murmured, his voice deep and low, vibrating through her spine. His lips brushed the sensitive curve of her neck, slow and deliberate, and Alexa's eyes fluttered shut. "I was thinking... wishing... I could give you what you truly deserve," she whispered, her voice trembling. Matheo turned her gently in his arms, tilting her face up with a finger under her chin. His dark eyes searched hers, intense and burning with a love so fierce it made her chest ache. "You have given me everything. You have given me a home, a family, peace. Nothing matters but you. Never forget that." His words were a seal over her heart. And then he kissed her - not the polite kiss of mornings, but deep, hungry, claiming her mouth as if he had been starved for her all day. Alexa melted into him, her fingers tangling into his thick dark hair, her body pressing flush against his. She felt the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms, the undeniable, overwhelming reality of him - this was her husband, her love, the only man she had ever known in this way. He lifted her easily, carrying her to the large bed draped in white linen, laying her down with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the fire in his eyes. He stood for a moment, stripping away his trousers, and Alexa watched him - the man who was her world, strong and solid, every line of him etched by strength and power. Then he came to her, his body covering hers, his weight warm and safe. His hands roamed over her - reverent, familiar, knowing every curve, every secret place that made her gasp. He worshipped her with his touch, his lips tracing the line of her throat, the swell of her breast, down to the soft curve of her hip. Alexa arched into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breath coming in soft, frantic sighs. There was no rush, no hurry - only the slow, building wave of pleasure that only he could bring her. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to hold her, how to make her feel seen and loved and desired beyond measure. When he finally joined their bodies, it was with a slow, deep thrust that made them both cry out - his voice rough and broken, hers soft and trembling. He moved within her with a rhythm that was as old as their love - deep, sure, claiming her completely, branding her from the inside out as his and his alone. The room filled with the sound of their breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, the quiet, breathless names they called each other like prayers. Alexa's world narrowed to this - the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms, the way he looked at her as he moved, as if she were the only thing that existed. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, wanting every part of him, wanting to keep him inside her forever. She felt the coiling tension low in her belly, the heat spreading through her limbs, and when Matheo whispered "Come for me, my wife" against her lips, she shattered - crying out his name, her body trembling and clenching around him, dragging him over the edge with her. Matheo groaned, a raw, primal sound, thrusting hard and deep one last time before finding his own release, spilling himself deep within her, pouring everything he had into her body. They lay locked together long after, his head buried in the crook of her neck, his heart pounding against hers. He kissed her shoulder, soft and sleepy. "I love you, Alexa. More than life itself." "I love you too, Matheo. Always," she whispered back, running her hand down his damp back. They fell asleep tangled in each other, Matheo's seed still warm and deep inside her, planting the beginning of their true daughter - the only child who would ever truly be theirs. They had no idea that the very act of their love would be twisted into the weapon that would destroy their family. The Trap - Eunice Sets the Stage Three days later, Eunice Beverly arrived at the estate, her smile bright and false, her eyes calculating. She found Alexa in the garden, tending to roses, glowing with a quiet happiness she hadn't felt in years. Matheo had left early that morning on a business trip - a ten-day journey to another country, exactly as Eunice had hoped. "Sister! You look radiant today! Is everything well?" Eunice chirped, linking her arm through Alexa's. "Everything is perfect, Eunice. Truly perfect," Alexa said, her hand unconsciously resting over her stomach - a tiny, instinctive movement that didn't mean anything yet, but would soon mean everything. Eunice's smile sharpened. "That is wonderful! You work so hard, Alexa - managing the house, the children, everything. You deserve a night out. Just us girls! There's a lovely new club downtown - elegant, sophisticated. Nothing wild, I promise. Let your hair down for once." Alexa hesitated. She was not a club-going woman. But Eunice insisted, pressing her, cajoling her, until Alexa - soft-hearted, eager to please - finally agreed. She had no idea she was walking into a trap that had been planned for months. That night, Eunice brought her to a place called Velvet Room - a dim, loud, pulsating nightclub where the music thumped through the floor and the air smelled of expensive perfume, alcohol, and smoke. Eunice ordered drink after drink, toasting to family, to happiness, to the future. Alexa, unused to strong liquor, grew light-headed, her judgment softening, her guard falling away. She laughed more than she had in years. She trusted her sister. She would follow her anywhere. Eunice signaled to a man standing near the bar - young, handsome, lean, with dark eyes and a practiced smile. He was a paid escort, a "toy boy" Eunice had hired two weeks prior with explicit instructions. He approached Alexa with a charming smile, sliding into the seat beside her. Eunice excused herself to "freshen up," slipping into the shadows, pulling out her phone. The man - Leo - was smooth. He complimented Alexa, poured her more champagne, touched her arm lightly, leaned in close as if whispering secrets.