Chapter 1Ditching the Billionaire: Mom's Million-Dollar Glow-Up

My mom is the definition of a trophy wife—sweet, naive, and has never had a real job. When Dad brought his ex back and asked for a divorce, all Mom begged for was to take me with her.

I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, trying to knock some sense into her.

“Mom! Why do you want me? Demand the money!”

“Isn't it better to take his cash, travel the world, and find yourself a few hot twenty-something boytoys?”

“Me? Don't worry about me.”

“I’m going to stay right here, use his money, and take care of you!”

* * *

In the center of our massive living room sat my father, Richard Sterling. He was the picture of a distinguished, wealthy CEO, sitting straight-backed and serious.

Next to him sat the woman who had just returned from a decade abroad, his "one that got away," Amelia Vance.

My mother, Sarah—the reigning naive queen of this gilded cage—was clutching my hand, sobbing like a telenovela star.

“Richard, you can take everything. I don't want a single dime. But Chloe is leaving with me!”

Amelia reached out, putting on a show of being gentle and reasonable.

“Sarah, darling, think about what’s best for Chloe. Richard can provide her with a secure, elite future here. You need to put her needs first. Don't be selfish.”

My dad shot Amelia a look of pure admiration. God, he was dynamic when it came to her.

My mom just cried harder. “But Chloe is all I have! I don't care about futures! I just…”

Before she could agree to walk away with nothing, I grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and dragged her to a corner out of their earshot.

“Mom!” I hissed. “What are you doing? Forget me! Demand the money!”

Mom gasped, staring at me with those big, tear-filled, puppy-dog eyes. She was pushing forty but acted like a confused teenager. “Chloe?”

I was so frustrated I could scream.

“Take Richard Sterling's assets and his cash. Go on an endless vacation. Find yourself a fleet of cute personal trainers. Tell me that isn't better than fighting over me!”

Her eyes went wide. She looked standardly innocent and naive.

“But… what about you?”

I began the brainwashing.

“Me? Mom, I’m an Ivy League legacy. I’m staying right here to be the Billionaire Heiress. And later? I’ll use his money to take care of you.”

Mom was hesitant. “But…”

I cut her off, turned back to my father, and plastered a professional fake-smile on my face.

“Dad, we need to talk about Mom's alimony. Specifically, compensation for pain and suffering, loss of potential income, and lifestyle maintenance…”