The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

The moment Vester entered, every pair of eyes in the hall turned to him.noveldrama

Whispers rippled through the crowd, no one bothering to lower their voices.

"Isn't that the third son?"

"Third son? Please, he's just the bastard's kid. Everyone knows Mr. Archer can't stand him."

"If it weren't for that mistress of his dying and leaving him without a guardian, there's no way Mr. Archer would've brought him back into the family. A bastard born to a mistress-what a disgrace for the Archers."

"And on top of that, the guy's crippled. A total waste. Mr. Archer treats him like a stray pet-barely worth the trouble to feed."

"I heard his mother was the one who crippled him. Do you know why? She broke his legs just so Mr. Archer might pity her enough to see her one last time. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Honestly, what's he even doing here tonight? Just an embarrassment."

Mr. Archer's face was practically green.

He used to be the subject of praise in these circles—young, brilliant, a prodigy in business.

But ever since he brought Vester home, the only thing people remembered was his affair and this disabled son.

How could he not resent them?

These two had ruined the reputation he'd spent a lifetime building, branding him with a stain he could never wash away.

And yet, Vester rolled in as if nothing was wrong, his expression calm, as though he couldn't hear a word of the venom around him.

Jason's face was ice-cold, his jaw tight with contempt. "What's that cripple doing here? On a night this important, he just has to show up and embarrass us."

Ileana wasn't any kinder. Shooting Vester a look of pure disgust, she muttered, "Should've had someone run that bastard down when I had the chance."

Vester seemed oblivious to the hatred in his brother and sister's eyes. He nodded politely to the guests around him, then wheeled himself straight up to Mr. Archer.

"Father." The word was spoken, but the mocking glint in his eyes made it clear he felt anything but filial piety.

Mr. Archer's expression curdled. He all but ground out the words through clenched teeth. "What are you doing here? Get out. This is no place for a bastard like you."

Vester remained unruffled, and-where no one could see-a provocative smile flickered across his lips. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that."

Mr. Archer's fists clenched so hard he was close to shattering his own teeth. "Filthy brat. You're just as low as your whore of a mother."

A flash of something feral flickered in Vester's blue eyes, but it vanished in an instant.

He looked up at his father, a

half-smile playing on his lips. “That's right. We're low. I'm a bastard. But tell me, Father-if I'm scum, what does that make you, chasing after my mother when you already had a wife? Doesn't that make you the king of bastards?"

Vester's laughter was reckless, echoing through the shocked silence of the foom. He didn't care who

heard, nor did he spare a glance at his father's thunderous expression.

He continued, jabbing a finger in Mr. Archer's direction: "Guess it takes two bastards to make one like me, huh?"

As he looked at the man who was his father in name only, Vester felt nothing but revulsion. The same Wor his biological mother-both of them were just as vile in his eyes.

"You ungrateful wretch! I'm your father!" Mr. Archer was livid, surging forward as if

to strike him.

But Vester was faster. He deftly wheeled himself out of reach, leaving Mr. Archer stumbling awkwardly in front of the entire crowd.