The Billionaire's forbidden daughter

EMMA "Pay the rent on time this month or get the hell out of my house!" Mrs Wilson shouted, her double chin quivering. Standing in the chilly November air, I gripped the door and shot a quick glance over my shoulder into the house. I heard a soft snore, exhaled. Father was still asleep. That was good. But he wouldn't be for much longer if the landlady kept yelling. "And don't you dare talk back at me, girl," Mrs Wilson snapped as I opened my mouth to say something. Her pudgy fingers were pointing at me now. She looked around, saw most of the neighbours had come out to listen, though most were pretending to do something else. Something like a smile touched her lips. Her considerable bosom swelled and she went on yelling, threatening. It's not even the end of the month yet! I wanted to yell back. And your house is beat to s**t anyway! The walls have cracks. The plaster is peeling. The heater hardly works. The damn tub is rusty! But of course, I didn't dare. If dad and I got thrown out, where would we go? This was the cheapest apartment we could find in the city. It was the closest to the diner where I worked. Hell, I couldn't even afford the bus fare most days! So I hung my head and went all, "Yes, Mrs Wilson. Sorry, Mrs Wilson. Of course, Mrs Wilson." Finally, the landlady ran out of steam and waddled over to her apartment. Resisting the urge to give the nosy neighbours the finger, I slammed the door in their faces and half ran to the kitchen's tiny table. Stacked on it were envelopes containing bills and more bills. Burying my face in my hands, I fought back tears. It sucked to be so dirt poor. No matter how hard father and I worked, we barely seemed able to get by. It had been the same thing when mother was alive. "Mother," I choked out, biting hard on my knuckles to keep back a sob. I could still remember it like it was yesterday. The earthquake at the mall where mother had taken me to look at a brand new pair of shoes I had been longing for. "But we can't afford it, ma." I had said as we had gotten dressed that morning. Even though that was true, nine year old me had been so excited to go to the mall even though we were unlikely to buy anything. Mother had smiled and winked at me. "I know that but it doesn't hurt to look, right?" Mother and I had been admiring a doll house when we felt the first tremor. I still had nightmares about it. I could still hear her screaming for someone to please help her baby, as she shielded me with her body when a section of the ceiling had suddenly caved in right on top of her. Ambulances had arrived at the scene minutes later. By then it was too late for mother. My phone beeped, startling me. 30 minutes to 7. "Oh s**t!" I cursed, jumping to my feet. I was going to be late for work if I didn't hurry. Grabbing my bag, I went to look in on father. In the early morning's light streaming in through the window, he was pale. Too pale. And there was something else. That hacking cough he had for months now. Flu medicine had not gotten rid of it. What if it was a symptom of something more serious? Something like- I shook my head to clear it. It was no good thinking like that. Still, as my feet took me down the familiar streets to the diner, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about our growing debts, father's health. I was coming to the conclusion that I needed to get a second job. Suddenly, I heard someone screaming. I stopped walking and stood frozen in the street. There was the sound of screeching tyres. More screaming. Someone bellowed, "Get out of the way, girl!" I turned. Slowly. I found myself facing a speeding car, which had just turned the corner, coming right at me. The driver's face was a horrified mask. He was going too fast to stop and he knew it. I smelled burning rubber. My knees buckled. I stumbled backwards, fell on my ass. My bag went flying, it's contents spilling everywhere. At the last instant, the car swerved hard to the right. I actually felt it's bumper graze my arm an instant before it screeched to a stop. My heart thudded, stuttered and picked up again double time. Lying a few feet away in the road was my sneaker, crushed flat by the car's tyres. I shut my eyes tightly. I couldn't stop thinking, just another inch, and that would have been me. Squashed like a bug. "O god," I groaned and began to shake. As though from far away, I heard voices, people talking, yelling. "Oh s**t! Is she okay?" "Someone call an ambulance!" "Was she hit?" And then another voice, raised in surprise, "Holy crow! It's HIM!" Footsteps approached. "Are you alright?" a voice nearby asked and in the same breath said, "For goodness sake! What were you thinking walking in the middle of the road like that? Do you have a death wish or something? Do you-" "That will do, Elliot!" a quiet voice interrupted. I felt rather rather than saw someone standing in front of me. A strong hand gripped my shoulder. I smelled expensive perfume. The man in front of me was talking voice but I could barely hear him past the blood roaring in my ears. Taking deep steadying breaths, I opened my eyes and found myself looking at a pair of fancy, designer shoes, pants, then a gold watch. "I'm fine," I managed to croak when I could finally make sense of what the man was asking. "And no, I- I don't think I need to go to a hospital." My cheeks were burning with embarrassment as I pushed my hair back from my face and started to raise my head. The accident was my fault. If I had been looking where I was going- I gasped as I finally looked the stranger full in the face. It couldn't be! But it was. I would recognise those icy blue eyes, that mass of thick brown hair anywhere, though the years now had shot it with grey now. He was the one person I never wanted to see. The one who had ruined my life and mother's. He hadn't noticed my shock yet. While the man I assumed was his driver was picking my scattered things, stuffing them into my bag, he was squatting, reaching for a snapshot of me and mother, a shocked expression on his face. I snatched the picture away. He stared at me, eyes widening. "Wait a minute," he said. "The woman in the picture. Isn't that-" "I have to go," I said, pushing to my feet. My head was swimming but I ignored it. Ignored him even as he called after me as I flagged down a passing taxi and hopped in, slamming the door shut. "Just get me away from here," I told the driver. "Fast!" I had to get away because the rich asshole back there, was none other than the billionaire CEO of Cole Empire, Ethan Cole and he was my father. My real father.