She Thought I Was Penniless Chapter 1

The moment he saw the Ferrari Roma sitting in the driveway, my daughter’s fiancé lost his mind.

"What the hell is this?" Brett shrieked, his voice climbing an octave as he pointed a shaking finger at the hood. "You used my house money to buy a sports car? Peter, have you no damn shame?"

He lunged forward, chest heaving beneath his designer polo. "Take it back right now! I haven’t even driven anything that nice, and here you are pissing away Allison’s inheritance!"

I didn't bother arguing. I reached into my coat, pulled out the quarterly statement from my wife’s firm, and slapped it against his chest.

"Katherine just cleared an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar performance bonus," I said evenly. "The car was three hundred and fifty thousand. A drop in the bucket."

Brett looked like he was about to vomit from pure rage. "Three hundred and fifty thousand? You spend that kind of money on yourself while people are starving? May your feet rot and your backside fester! That is Bishop family money! Every cent you blow on toys is a cent Allison can’t spend on me! How the hell am I supposed to buy our estate in the hills now? How am I supposed to get my Porsche?"

He threw a full-blown tantrum right there on the paved circular drive, kicking gravel and screaming until his face turned purple. I couldn't stomach another second of him, so I turned around and went inside.

The next morning, I walked outside with my morning espresso to find my brand-new Ferrari bludgeoned into scrap metal. The windshield was a web of crushed safety glass; the sleek crimson paint was gouged down to raw alloy by a heavy iron tool.

Brett stood on the lawn, leaning casually against a bent nine-iron, grinning ear to ear.

"Peter, let's get something straight," he sneered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You’re just Allison’s stepdad. A charity case Katherine took pity on. I am the future heir of the Bishop estate. You spend another dime of our money, and the next thing I smash won't be a car. It'll be your skull."

A quiet, hollow laugh slipped from my throat.

If Allison—the girl I had spent twenty-two years raising as my own flesh and blood—was truly this vile, then I was more than ready to cut the cord and revoke her adoption once and for all.

* * *

Just yesterday, before the madness began, I had been curled up on the velvet sectional with a vintage Pinot Noir, breathing in the quiet contentment of the afternoon. Then the double doors swung open, and Allison walked in, weighed down with shopping bags from Bergdorf Goodman, Brett trailing behind her like a pampered lapdog.

She offered me a tight, honeyed smile. "Dad? Whose Ferrari is that out front? Did you trade cars with one of your golf buddies?"

I sat up, smiling back. "No, sweetheart. I bought it. Beautiful machine, isn't she?"

The smile evaporated from her face, leaving behind a sharp, pinched coldness. "You're joking, right? We talked about this. Aren't the family liquid reserves supposed to go to Brett and me for our wedding?"

"We didn't touch your wedding fund," I said, keeping my tone gentle. "Your mother had an extraordinary quarter. Her bonus was over eight hundred thousand. The car was barely half of that."

The words had barely left my mouth when Brett exploded.

"Three hundred and fifty grand?!" he screamed, his voice scraping the high ceilings. "That’s a down payment on an estate in Greenwich! You stole our house money to buy yourself a midlife crisis toy? Peter, how can you look at yourself in the mirror?"

Before I could register the movement, he whipped a heavy, hard-cornered shoe box from his haul and hurled it straight at my face.

The sharp edge caught me across the cheekbone. Skin split. A sudden, burning heat bloomed across my cheek, followed by the slow, warm trickle of blood.

Brett didn't even look at me. He spun on Allison, his chest swelling with self-righteous fury. "Allison, you promised me! You said the moment your mother’s bonus cleared, we’d close on the stone manor! I already took photos! I told my college friends, my cousins, everyone! How am I supposed to show my face now?"

Allison’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. "Dad, why would you do something so selfish? Did it ever cross your mind that I already had plans for that money?"

The warm glow of my afternoon collapsed into ice. I stared at the girl I had tucked in every night of her childhood. "Since when do you budget your mother's earnings?"

Allison’s gaze flickered with guilt, but with Brett breathing down her neck, she lifted her chin, defiant. "Dad, you know it’s Mom’s money. How could you just squander it like that..."

Seeing her take his side, Brett’s chest puffed up. He stepped between us, looking down his nose at me with naked contempt. "Stop playing the patriarch, Peter! I know all about you. You're just Allison's stepdad. You married into this wealth and haven't earned a single red cent in decades. Who the hell gave you the right to touch Bishop assets?"

He leaned in, words rattling like machine-gun fire. "Every breath you take in this house is paid for by Allison. By "us". If you expect to die with a roof over your head, you’d better learn your damn place—"

"Enough!"

I slammed my glass onto the mahogany coffee table, the wine sloshing red against the dark wood. I stood up, trembling with a fury so deep it made my vision blur. I pointed straight at the mahogany double doors.

"Brett, the wedding is off. Get the hell out of my house. Now."

Brett let out a shrill, mocking laugh. "You're kicking me out? Have you forgotten who saved your little girl's life? If my mother hadn't pulled Allison out of that alley years ago, the Bishop family wouldn't even have an heir! You owe us everything! Handing over your entire estate wouldn't even begin to pay that debt!"