My Stepfather Was Actually My Biological Father

Mirabelle's POV

The day I got my college acceptance letter, the silver arowana we’d been raising in the aquarium for five years suddenly died, its scales bursting open.

That evening, over dinner, I announced I wanted to cut ties with my father completely, and the whole table went silent.

My grandmother slapped me across the face before I could even take a breath.

“Ungrateful brat! Have you lost your mind? Your father treats you so well, and now that you’ve made it into college, you turn around and betray him?”

My aunt stared at me in disbelief, her tone halfadmonishing, halfbewildered. “Your family’s mines connect to more mines. You’re basically sitting on a mountain of cash. Your dad has no other children, so the whole inheritance would be yours one day. And you want to sever ties now? Are you stupid?”

But I stayed firm. I was going to cut ties with him, no matter what they said.

——

Grandma’s mouth curled down into a permanent frown as she scolded me. “Do you know how hard it’s been for your father to raise you?”

Even as she cursed me out, she kept sneaking glances at my father’s face, afraid he might get upset. Well, she had her reasons, as my father’s wealth was her longterm meal ticket.

My aunt joined in the chorus of insults, but halfway through, her voice shifted into something more pointed. “Girls are always outsiders in the end. Mirabelle’s barely gotten into college and she’s already thinking of running off. Surely, once she’s married, she won’t even be part of this family anymore. Manfred, I think you should remarry and have a son of your own flesh and blood—”

But the sound of glass shattering cut her off as my father had slammed his cup down hard enough to crack it.

“Enough! Don’t say another word! Mirabelle is my flesh and blood. I will never marry again!”

He turned to me then, his tone softening so quickly it was almost jarring. There was even a trace of pleading in his eyes.

“Mirabelle, did I do something wrong? Tell me.”

I pointed at the nowempty pond beside us and answered, “Because the silver arowana died.”

Grandma’s eyes went wide, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You jinx! What nonsense are you spouting? If the fish died, we’ll just buy another one! But if you drive your father away with this attitude, I swear I’ll skin you alive!”

I didn’t argue. I just sat there, letting her insult me.

Because she wasn’t wrong. I really was about to play the role of an ungrateful daughter.

But my father let out a long sigh, clearly thinking I was just being childish.

“Oh, so that’s all this is? Fine, I’ll buy another one exactly like it.”

Yet I shook my head slowly, locking eyes with him.

“No. There’s no such thing as another fish exactly like it.”

His expression froze. His gaze sharpened, almost flinching, as though my words had burned him.

The truth was, the man sitting across from me wasn’t my biological father at all. He was my stepfather.

My real father had been murdered by a serial killer when I was three years old, but the killer was already caught two years later. And that same year, my mother met my stepfather.

At the time, Grandma worried he wouldn’t want me and even suggested my mom send me away to someone else. But unexpectedly, my stepfather had always treated me well.

Back then, my mom was still young, and my stepfather had luck on his side. When he started a small business, it turned into an overnight fortune. Soon, he bought several copper mines, and with favorable policies at the time, the profits poured in.

In just a few short years, he’d earned enough to keep our family comfortable for generations.

Once the money came, my mom worried he might change and tried to convince him to have more children. But he refused every time. Holding me close with a smile, he said, “Mirabelle is my lucky star. She’s the reason I became wealthy. She’s the only daughter I’ll ever have in this life.”

And he meant it. Back then, he treated me like a princess. A single diamond he gifted me would be worth millions. Luxury cars and mansions were also nothing unusual.

But life didn't always go the way you wanted it to.

A few years ago, my mother died in a sudden car accident.

Mirabelle's POV

The police had come by. From the scene, it was clear my mom’s death really was from a car accident.

She was the only car on the road that day. Driving way over the speed limit, she lost control on a curve and rolled over.

By some miracle, she survived the crash, but she never woke up. She slipped into a vegetative state.

My dad cared for her himself. He didn’t let my aunt or my grandmother lift a finger, wouldn’t even hire a nurse.

Still, after just a few months, she was gone.

My dad broke down really hard because of that.

I could remember, I was only a freshman in high school at that time.

My grandmother panicked the moment Mom passed. She was terrified my stepfather would leave now that Mom was gone.

She yanked me by the ear and spat venom in my face.

“You cursed your own father to death, and now your mother too! Starting tomorrow, forget school. I’m not paying a cent for you to study. Go get a job!”

I bawled like a terrified kid, which, truthfully, I was. Deep down, I thought the same thing she did, that without my mom, my stepfather would toss me aside.

But he didn’t.

Not only did he keep treating me the same, he became even more attentive, as if he wanted to make up for what I’d lost.

My aunt, however, had other ideas. She wanted to marry him and become my stepmother. She even said she could give him a son.

But my father only got furious.

“Even if Mirabelle’s mother is gone, I will never remarry. She’s the only daughter I’ll ever have in my life!”

People were touched by his words. Many said my mom was lucky to have married a man like him.

I, too, cried, vowing to work twice as hard, to get into a good college, and take care of him for the rest of my life.

But now, here I was, finally accepted into university, asking to cut all ties with him.

Grandma and my aunt weren’t done scolding me. Grandma, flustered, even slapped me across the face. They couldn’t understand why I’d do something like this when my father and I had always been close.

They both ganged up on me, demanding answers.

“Mirabelle, have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you want to cut ties with your father? And don’t give me that nonsense about the fish. Drop the riddles!”

Yet I stayed silent.

My father looked at me, saw I wasn’t budging, and sighed, his expression pained.

“I bought you an apartment near your school. Even if you won’t be my daughter anymore, you still need somewhere to live. Stay there.”

He then handed me the keys. I hesitated for a moment, but then took them.

My aunt let out a cold laugh. “So you’re cutting ties, but still taking his house? Impressive.”

My father’s face darkened. “That’s between me and my daughter. Stay out of it.”

I gave a short, humorless laugh, still holding the keys in my hand.

My aunt had long since cast herself in the role of my future stepmother, imagining she’d give my father a son one day. In her mind, every cent I spent now was money stolen from that imaginary child.

As my “stepmotherinwaiting,” she nitpicked everything I did, every single day.

Grandma had always favored my aunt, and after my mom died, it only got worse. She worried I was “just” an adopted daughter and that my bond with my father wasn’t strong enough. She’d love nothing more than for my aunt to get pregnant by him right now.

My dad disliked them both, but he felt obliged to care for them out of loyalty to my mother.

Now that he saw how determined I was to sever our relationship, my aunt’s eyes practically gleamed, thinking this was her chance to finally “move up.”

Meanwhile, my dad didn’t stop me. Like always, he supported my decision.

“If you want to go, then go.”

Grateful, I nodded.

When I got to school, I discovered he’d even donated a building just so my teachers would look out for me.

But I, in turn, went straight to the papers and publicly announced that I was cutting ties with him.

Mirabelle's POV

My classmates were stunned.

“Man, the world of rich people is just too complicated,” one of them said, shaking his head. “I don’t get it at all.”

Another leaned closer, curious. “Mirabelle, why would you want to cut ties with your dad? Your mom practically changed your whole fate when she married that rich stepfather. And now you’re throwing it away? I don’t get it. If I had a stepdad that rich, I wouldn’t even bother going to college. I’d be living the high life already.”

I didn’t answer them. I just gave a faint, bitter smile.

My best friend, Pansy Bowen, looked more worried than judgmental. She pulled me aside and lowered her voice. “Mirabelle, I’ve heard that some rich guys have unusual hobbies. Your stepdad’s never had any other kids, only you. Did he ever do anything bad to you? You can tell me. My dad’s a cop. If you’ve been hurt, I can get him involved.”

I blinked, taken aback. “What? No. You’ve got it all wrong. He’s always treated me well.”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “Then why? If he’s that good to you, why would you want to cut ties?”

Before I could answer, a familiar voice rang out from across the courtyard.

“Because Mirabelle’s just an ungrateful brat, that’s why!”

Heads turned toward the voice.

Strutting toward us was my aunt, wearing a fiery red dress that revealed more skin than fabric, both front and back. My classmates quickly averted their eyes as they felt uncomfortable. Clearly, she hadn’t been subtle about trying to seduce my father, and she didn’t care.

Shooing my classmates away, she crossed her arms and smirked. “Mirabelle, I want to know too. Why cut ties with your father? What’s your plan? Playing hard to get so he’ll rush to write you into the will?”

I let out a sharp, cold laugh. “This is between me and my dad. None of your business.”

I turned to leave, unwilling to waste another breath on her.

But her voice chased after me, dripping with venom. “Just wait until I marry your father and give him a son. Let’s see if you’re still so smug then!”

It didn’t take long before the headlines exploded about my father marrying my aunt.

The internet lit up. Some people already knew about my family and piled on the insults, calling me heartless, an ungrateful parasite. They said it served me right that my dad was remarrying. Someone like me didn’t deserve to inherit his fortune.

Others framed it as some kind of noble sacrifice, saying I’d cut ties so my dad could have his own biological son while he still could.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, my grip tightening until my knuckles went white.

Even the chatter at school was relentless.

“Mirabelle, you need to take time off and go home to apologize! Did you see what your aunt was wearing the last time she came here? She’s bad news. If she marries your dad, you’ll be left with nothing!”

“Exactly! You can’t be this stupid. Go stop the wedding! Our future chances of knowing a rich heiress depend on you.”

My lips felt cold and pale as I answered flatly, “I’ve already cut ties with him. Whoever he marries now is none of my business.”

Pansy flicked my forehead. “Don’t give me that. I don’t believe for a second you’re just some ungrateful brat. Wake up, Mirabelle. Your dad’s mines alone are worth at least a couple billion. Even if you’re mad, pick the right time and place to show it.”

The others chimed in with teasing grins. “Yeah! If you don’t want the money, we’ll be more than happy to spend it for you!”

Mirabelle's POV

I didn’t say another word. I just gave a small smile and walked away.

My dad and my aunt’s wedding was set for the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Yet I never got an invitation, but it was not that I would go.

Of course, that didn’t stop the internet from drowning in photos and videos of the big day.

In the pictures, my aunt was draped in a custommade wedding gown, leaning happily against my father’s arm, while Grandma stood nearby, her smile so wide it deepened every wrinkle on her face.

Barely a year later, the news broke again that my aunt had given my dad a son. My dad was over the moon, and he booked a hundred tables for the baby’s monthsary. Online, people called it karma, said he deserved the blessing of a son.

Then they turned on me. They said I was the kind of person who’d never even be served eight dishes at a meal in this lifetime.

At school, people also pointed and whispered when I walked past. Once they realized I’d never inherit our family fortune, they kept their distance. They said anyone who could turn her back on the stepfather who raised her had no conscience and wasn’t worth befriending.

Having heard those rumors, Pansy, my best friend, was furious on my behalf.

“I don’t believe for a second you’re ungrateful,” she said, clutching my arm. “But seriously, what now? Billions just slipped away! I still don’t get what you were thinking. Even if you wanted him to have his own child, you didn’t need to go so far as making a public announcement that you were cutting ties.”

I just sighed, but still said nothing.

Seeing me still not explaining, she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I swear, I’ll never understand you. What exactly happened between you and your dad? Why won’t you just tell me?”

Not long after, tragedy struck, and my dad died suddenly of a heart attack.

My aunt and Grandma called, insisting I come home for the funeral.

Pansy, worried they might try something, insisted on coming with me.

When we arrived, the truth came out. They hadn’t called me home just to mourn. They wanted to settle my father’s estate.

The company’s accountants worked day and night for a week to tally it all up, and the amount my father had left behind was over a billion in cash. On top of that, he’d always loved buying real estate. Now we had properties scattered all over the world.

Pansy clutched her head in anguish. “Mirabelle, I told you not to be stupid! Now look. If you hadn’t cut ties, all of this would’ve been yours!”

Right then, my aunt appeared, holding my baby halfbrother in her arms. She looked at us coldly and spat, “Dream on. Why should a thankless brat like her get a cent of our family’s money? Let me make it clear. My son is the sole heir to Manfred’s estate. And as for you, I demand you return everything you ever took from our family.”

I met her gaze. “Are you sure about that?”

She puffed up proudly and bounced the baby slightly, as if showing him off.

“Of course I’m sure. I’d advise you to hand it all back without a fuss. The whole internet’s watching. Let’s see if you have even a shred of conscience left.”

Only then did I notice the cameras. She’d actually invited the media.

On a massive screen, the livestream chat scrolled endlessly, thousands of viewers spitting venom.

[How shameless can she get? Saying she cut ties, but still using his money and living in his house!]

[Exactly! Mr. Holt raised her, and she still publicly severed ties? If that’s not being ungrateful, what is?]

My aunt smiled smugly at the uproar. “Come on, then. I know exactly what my late husband gave you. Don’t bother denying it. And thank you, dear viewers, for helping a poor widow and her orphaned child seek justice.”

Mirabelle's POV

I gave a cold, sharp laugh. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be talking like that?”

Right then, two men in lightcolored suits walked in behind James Mack, the butler. Each wore a badge with the official emblem of the notary's office.

James went straight to my aunt’s side and whispered, “These two are from the notary’s office. Before he passed, Mr. Holt made a will. They’re here to deliver it.”

My aunt’s face tightened with suspicion. “Come with me. We’ll talk privately.”

But the livestream audience wasn’t having it.

[Oh, so when you wanted her inheritance, you wanted us to watch. But now there’s a will, and you want to hide it?]

[Something’s fishy. Everyone knows Mr. Holt treated Mirabelle like his own. Who in their right mind would give that up?]

[And let’s not forget. The ‘new wife’ is Mirabelle’s aunt. A woman who sets her sights on her own brotherinlaw is not exactly the picture of morality.]

Comments kept pouring in, the feed scrolling nonstop. My aunt clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Let them read it here. My son is Manfred’s only biological child. What do I have to be afraid of?”

The notary staff broke the red wax seal in front of everyone. One of them unfolded the will, showed it to his colleague for confirmation, then looked up.

“Which one of you is Miss Mirabelle Holt?”

Slowly, I raised my hand. “That’s me.”

He glanced back at the paper and said clearly, “All assets under Mr. Holt’s name are to be inherited entirely by Miss Mirabelle.”

The room froze.

My aunt’s face went pale. She lunged forward and snatched the will from his hands. “Impossible!”

I couldn’t believe it either. Even if my father had cared for me, now that he had a son, how could he possibly leave everything to me?

The comment section also erupted.

[No way! Sure, he might’ve liked her a lot, but all of it? That’s absurd.]

[Didn’t she make a public announcement cutting ties with him? And now he has a son. Why would he leave her everything?]

[So what really happened back then? Why did she insist on ending things with him?]

While everyone was still reeling, my aunt suddenly burst out laughing twice.

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? Because little Mirabelle learned how to seduce men at a young age.”

She leaned forward, voice dripping with mockery. “My sister died early when Manfred was barely in his forties, a man in his prime. Yet he never remarried and just stayed in that house with this little orphan for all these years. You expect me to believe nothing happened between them? Please.”

My grandmother’s eyes darted slyly before she chimed in, “My daughter’s right. That girl’s been a temptress since she was a teenager. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, hugging him around the waist like she owned him.”

Fury burned through me, and I snapped, “Grandma, don’t make things up! Aren’t you afraid of the consequences, saying things like that at your age?”

But the audience didn’t care what I said.

[Her mom died when she was in high school, right when girls started feeling things. Makes sense.]

[The aunt’s story checks out. Back then, Manfred was still handsome. No wonder he treated her so well. She was basically his young wife.]

[And now it makes sense why she cut ties the moment she got into college. It’s all adding up.]

[But seriously, what kind of man is this Manfred? His current wife just gave him a son, and he still leaves every cent to Mirabelle? What’s his wife and kid supposed to live on? Fresh air?]

The live chat was filling up with comments like that, eating up every lie my aunt and grandmother had been feeding them. They kept throwing dirt on me and my dad, and the more I stayed quiet, the more it stuck.

My aunt, meanwhile, looked like the cat who’d just caught the canary. She put on this pitiful, wronged expression, milking the sympathy from the viewers.

“So, dear viewers, you have to stand up for us, a poor widow and her orphaned son,” she said sweetly. “I am Manfred’s lawful wife, and my son is his legitimate child. Not like this little temptress here, who, at such a young age, already knows how to steal a man’s heart!”

Now, the only person who seemed genuinely worried for me was Pansy. She grabbed my arm and whispered urgently, “Mirabelle, you’re killing me here! What on earth happened between you and your dad? Just tell them already!”

But I couldn’t. If I said it out loud, my father’s entire reputation would be destroyed.

The viewers didn’t know that, though. They just saw me hesitating and decided they’d guessed right. The insults then started flying so thick and fast in the chat that it was like a tidal wave of hate.

My grandma and aunt were also throwing a deathly glare at me.

Just then, two police officers entered the hall behind James. One of them was holding a sealed file.

“Hold on. We also have a DNA report.”