Betrayed Heiress: My Second Chance Mate is A Lycan King

Aira’s POV

Pain.

All I have felt for the past few years is nothing but pure agonizing pain. Just when it seems I am about to catch a glimmer of hope, something or someone crushes it before my eyes, and the hurt I would feel would be far worse than what I had felt earlier.

Why? Why did this happen to me again?

I thought we had finally gotten rid of the problem, which was Jace, so why is history still repeating itself? Was I a fool for trusting Anna, my own sister? Or was it Alex that was the problem?

It just doesn’t make sense. Alex was the one that warned me about Anna, so why would he give in to her like that? Was all this some sick prank all along? I thought I could trust him; I thought he would be a lot different than Jace. But I suppose all men are the same.

The only difference between them is their bodies.

And Ana… I thought I could trust her. But after all these years, one would have thought I would have learned my lesson. Ana could never be trusted; we would never have the sister relationship I have dreamed of having all these years.

All these days that I have spent with this delusion that I would be happy were just a waste of time. I see now that I am far from happiness.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

Today was supposed to be a fun day for all of us; why did this have to happen? Why must the universe punish me this way? All I wanted to do was celebrate my birthday with the two people I cared about the most. Yet here I am in an empty park in the middle of the night, crying my eyes out.

On my own damn birthday.

The tears flowed down my cheeks like a stream, and I made no effort to stop them. I couldn’t take in any more of this hurt; I just wanted it all to end.

I was so busy crying that I did not notice someone was walking up to me until they sat down beside me and handed me a handkerchief. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit startled. I looked to my left to find an elderly woman smiling warmly at me.

Cautiously, I take the handkerchief from her hands and use it to wipe away my tears and snot. “Thank you,” I tell her appreciatively.

“You are welcome, Aira.”

I freeze.

Slowly, I look at the woman again to be certain if I knew her from somewhere. I don’t.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask her, and her smile only widens.

“You don’t, but I know you,” she says, and it is safe to say that I am beyond creeped out right now.

“Okay, um, that’s nice. Well, thank you for the hanky; I really appreciate it, but I have to go,” I say slowly as I attempt to stand up and possibly get as far away from this strange old lady as possible.

I turn my back on her and start to walk away, but she says something that has me freezing in my tracks. “Your mother wanted me to give you this on your twenty-first birthday.”

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach at the mention of my mother. I spin on my heel to find the elderly woman holding out a small box to me. With shaky hands, I take it from her, but I do not open it just yet.

“You knew my mother?” I ask, and she nods. “Who were you to her?”

“Her sister-in-law,” she says, and I frown.

“My dad had no sisters; he was an only child,” I state, and she nods in agreement.

“Your adoptive father, Jake Sanchez, had no siblings. But your real father, Marco Kingston, had eight siblings, and I am his eldest sister,” she says, and I blink rapidly at her.

Carefully, I put down the box beside her and backed away.

“Okay, I think you have the wrong person.”

The lady gets up as well with a sigh. “I knew you would have a hard time believing any of this, so here,” she says, digging into her pockets and taking out a piece of paper.

When she hands it to me, I find out it is actually a picture. The people in it have my eyes widening and my jaw dropping. The picture was of my mother and father, alongside another couple.

The two women in the picture were identical.

“Your mother was a twin. Your adoptive mother, the one who raised you, Marilyn Sanchez, is actually your aunt.”

My legs give up on me, and I take a seat on the bench I just stood up from. My head was pounding at this rate. Who was this woman, and why is she telling me all of this now?

Placing my hand on my temples, I begin to massage them softly. “I don’t understand.”

“I know this is a lot of information to take, and especially on a special day like this,” I wanted to snort. There was absolutely nothing special about today. She continues, “But if you come with me, I can explain to you better.”

My eyebrows furrow, and I give the woman a once-over. “What makes you so confident that I would willingly follow a strange lady claiming to know my adoptive and biological parents to God knows where?”

The lady shrugs. “I suppose you are just going to have to trust me.”

Silence.

Today really wasn’t going exactly as I planned. Actually, this is far from what I planned; this woman claiming to be the sister to my supposed biological father just shows up out of nowhere and wants to reveal the secrets of my deceased and apparently adoptive parents. What could be a better birthday gift than that?

My eyes carefully take in the woman’s demeanor. She seems harmless.

But then again, I thought Ana was harmless too. Look at where that got me.

I suppose I am just going to have to trust my gut one more time, even if it does get me killed in the end.

“Okay, I trust you.” I reply, and the woman smiles warmly at me. She leads me down to her car, and I hop into the passenger seat. She starts up the engine, and in a second, we are driving to a place I have absolutely no idea about.

The drive is silent, but my head is filled with so many questions I want to ask her. So I start with, “What is your name?”

“Camille,” she answers politely. Not once taking her eyes off the road.

“Okay, Camille. Please explain to me how and why all of this is possible. If I really am adopted, then where are my biological parents? Why are you here and they are not? And why did it take so long before I was told all of this?”

For a moment, Camille remains silent. Then she breaks the silence by saying, “Your father was a great man. Owner of one of the world’s greatest manufacturing companies. I am sure you have heard of Kingston’s,” she pauses, and I nod in agreement.

Kingston’s manufactured everything from crude oil to certain food items and car parts. I remember our teacher would constantly use them as an example during our business management classes.

So my father is the owner of that company?

Camille continues, “He swore that when it was time for him to retire, he would hand over the business to you. Along with all of his assets-houses across the globe, luxurious cars, and million-dollar artifacts- Everything was put in your name. You can check the pigeon hole for the deed.”

With an agape mouth, I open the pigeon hole and take out the document clearly stating that I would inherit all of my father’s businesses and assets either on the day of his retirement or the day I turn twenty-one years old.

Which is today.

But the condition for the latter is that unless he is…

Tears well up in my eyes, and I turn to Camille and ask, “Is he…? Are they…?” I couldn’t complete my sentence; I was too scared to. But Camille understood exactly what it was I wanted to say and nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, your biological parents are dead.”

Wow. So I became an orphan twice. What luck I have.

With saddened eyes, I look down at the deed. “But nothing here is in Ana’s name.”

“Ana isn’t your sister, Aira. She is your cousin.”

What the fuck?

“How is that even possible? We are identical. Cousins aren’t identical, are they?” I ask her, and she chuckles.

“Sometimes they are. Your mothers were identical twins, so it would make sense if their daughters were as well. Your mother had very strong genes; they have been in their family for generations. Why, I remember that on the day your mother got married to my brother, I encountered another set of twins. I believe it was their grandmothers.”

Well, isn’t that quite interesting?

“But you and Ana were born on the same day, just by different parents,” Camille finishes, and I hum. I suppose that means we really did have to share a birthday. All this time, I was thinking Ana and I were sisters when we weren’t. Perhaps that is why we couldn’t bond properly.

I stared at the present Camille had given me in the park. I have yet to open it. My eyes begin to sting with tears as my vision begins to blur. I swallow the bile in my throat and dare to ask, “How did they die?”

Sadness takes over Camille’s features, and I see her eyes flash with pain before she replies. “Car accident; it was on the night of their second anniversary. You were barely a year old then.”

I feel a pang in my heart, and even though I didn’t know them, it still hurts to know that I never really did get to know them.

“You should probably open that present now; you will need it for where we are headed,” Camille says, and I take a deep breath before doing as I am told. I pop open the lid and am surprised to find nothing but a video camera.

I turn the device on and find only one video on it. I press play, and tears instantly slide down my face as my real parents’ faces come into view. They have bright smiles on their faces as they sit together in front of the camera.

“Hey Aira, if you are seeing this now, you should probably be about twenty-one years old. You are such a big girl, and I am sure I balled my eyes out this morning singing you that happy birthday song,” my mother says, and more tears spill out of my eyes.

I never got to hear her sing me a happy birthday.

My father continues, “Aye, and at this age I should have taught you all the basics of the business. I will be turning fifty by October, but if I feel tired, I would most likely hand over the business for you to run so I can spend more time with this beauty.”

I shake my head in disbelief as the two of them share a sloppy kiss. Well, at least they were both crazy in love with each other. That’s a good thing to know, at least.

Mother says, “But don’t you worry, we will be with you every step of the way. You don’t have to worry about being alone, my beautiful girl. At twenty-one, I know that you are a strong, confident, independent, and powerful young woman. Nothing and no one can stop you or bring you down. I am proud to call you my daughter, Aira. Remember, mommy loves you! And happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, my princess,” my father said, and he waved me goodbye before the video came to an end.

I stared at the blank screen for a moment before wiping away my tears.

“I am sorry they were never there for you, Aira,” Camille says, and I purse my lips.

It wasn’t their fault; they did not know they were going to die.

I am unable to utter another word until the car finally comes to a stop before a golden gate. A guard in uniform bows at us before opening the large barrier, and we drive in.

My eyes are as wide as saucers as we drive past the massive acres of land.

“All this belonged to your father, and now to you,” Camille says, parking the car before a great mansion that looked nothing short of a palace. She gets out of the car, and I follow right after her. We stand before the massive building, and I stare up at it in awe.

Camille smiles warmly at me. “So, Aira Kingston, are you ready to take over your father’s legacy and become the woman they always envisioned you to be?”

I let her words sink into me. I cannot lie; I am far from the woman they envisioned. I am weak, far from independent, and let others walk all over me.

After what happened today, I never want to be that woman again.

“Yes, I am.”

Camille hands me a pen, and I sign the deed.

“Congratulations, Aira. You are now the owner of the Kingston dynasty,” she says, and a small smile lifts my lips.

Maybe this birthday wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.