BIANCA's POV
I leaned against my doorframe, arms crossed, staring at the old man like he'd just crawled out of a time machine. "Okay… you know my full name. Great trick. Now, who the hell are you, and why are you waiting in front of my house like some creepy Santa Claus?"
The man didn't flinch. His voice was calm, polite, annoyingly steady. "Miss Bianca, perhaps we should sit. This is… a rather long conversation."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, of course. I always invite strange men in suits into my apartment at night. Sounds safe."
He actually smiled, which made me more suspicious. Nevertheless, I unlocked my door since I had a gut feeling he wasn't coming to rob or kill me. "All right, but just so you know, I'm a very good fighter , and if you try anything funny, I won't think twice about breaking your nose." I kicked off my shoes, turned on the lights, and gestured toward my couch inside. "Take a seat. Avoid touching anything that is bright. Hold on, I don't have anything bright."
As he made himself comfy, I made tea because, truly, if this was all a trick, I would at least need the tea to deal with it. That's when I saw a bit of an envelope from his pocket. A card for a wedding. My want to know more grew, but I let him speak first.
"So," I said, setting his cup down, "you're gonna tell me who you are before I call the cops, right?"
The man finally introduced himself. "My name is Cyril, Miss. I am the butler of the Montgomery family."
I froze with my cup halfway to my lips. "Excuse me? Did you just say Montgomery? As in the Montgomerys? The people who own half the hotels, restaurants, and casinos on this planet?"
"Yes."
I snorted. "Right. And I'm the lost Kardashian. Try again."
"I assure you, Miss Bianca, I'm telling the truth."
"Uh-huh. Sure." I leaned back on the couch, squinting at him. "So what? Did I rack up a secret debt with one of their casinos? Because my luck at slot machines is bad, but not that bad."
He shook his head. "No, you're not in any trouble. In fact, quite the opposite. I am here on behalf of Miss Chloe Montgomery. She wishes to invite you to her wedding."
My jaw dropped. Then I laughed. Hard. "You mean Chloe Montgomery—the princess of the golden empire, the woman who's probably never microwaved leftover pizza in her life—wants me at her wedding? Okay, now I know you're smoking something expensive."
Cyril didn't laugh. He calmly pulled another envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table. Inside were three things. A birth certificate, and two old photographs.
I frowned. Picked up the first photo. A baby. A baby with big round eyes. Me. Next to me was a toddler girl with dark hair and a face I didn't recognize.
The second photo was almost the same, except this time my father was in it too.
I stared at the pictures, my stomach doing cartwheels. "What the hell… Where did you get these?"
Cyril folded his hands. "The little girl beside you is Chloe Montgomery."
I blinked once. Twice. Then I burst out laughing again. "Okay, now you're killing me. Chloe Montgomery, the same girl whose face is on Forbes magazine, was hanging out with me in diapers? Yeah, sure, buddy."
"The birth certificate belongs to you," Cyril went on, completely unfazed by my sarcasm. "Your real name is Bianca Montgomery. Your mother was a maid in the Montgomery household. Your father had an affair with her, which led to your birth. As a result, he divorced Mrs. Vanessa Montgomery. He left the house months later, financially ruined."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. "So… let me get this straight. You're saying my dad went full soap opera, broke up a billionaire marriage, and somehow I'm the illegitimate child of the Montgomery dynasty?"
"That is correct."
I slapped the table. "Well, damn. That explains why my dad was always broke. But you expect me to just… believe this? Some guy in a suit shows up with old pictures and suddenly I'm heiress to the Montgomery empire?"
He didn't blink. "The photos and birth certificate are genuine. Miss Chloe has been searching for you for months. Now that she has finally found you, she wishes to reconcile. What better way than at her wedding?"
I rubbed my temples. This was insane. Completely insane. And yet… I couldn't deny the familiarity of the photo. My dad had once shown me a similar picture, except my supposed sister's face had been scribbled out with ink. He'd told me I had a sister once, but never revealed who.
I forced a laugh. "You know, if you're lying, this is a really good story. Ten out of ten for creativity. Hollywood might call."
Cyril didn't budge. He just placed the documents neatly on my coffee table and rose to his feet. "Whether you believe it or not, Miss Bianca, Miss Chloe Montgomery wishes to see you. I will return in the morning to escort you to her."
I opened my mouth, closed it, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Worst case scenario, this is some elaborate scam, and I end up in a Lifetime movie about kidnapped strippers."
He gave me a polite nod, like I hadn't just insulted him, and left.
I sat there staring at the photos and the birth certificate. My so-called birth certificate. "Bianca Montgomery," I muttered. "Wow. Sounds fancy. Too bad it comes with baggage."
I grabbed the picture with Chloe and squinted at her toddler face. "So you're supposed to be my sister, huh? Figures. You got the money and the glamour, I got the pole and late-night rent struggles. Life's a comedian."
When I finally crawled into bed, I tossed and turned. My brain refused to shut up. What if this was real? What if I was a Montgomery?
I pulled the blanket over my head and groaned. "Great. Just great. My life was already a mess, and now I might be the bastard child of a billionaire family. Universe, you really need a new hobby."
Sleep finally claimed me, but not before I whispered one last sarcastic thought to the dark.
"Tomorrow, I find out if I'm Cinderella… or the punchline to the worst family reunion ever."