“Yes,” Nigel confirmed with a respectful nod. “The Morrison family. From now on, it is your home.”

Khloe stood in silence for several seconds. Niel Morrison was her biological father, and the vast fortune he left had already fallen into her hands. Returning to the Morrison family was inevitable. She couldn’t hide from it—nor did she need to.

At last, she nodded. “Very well. Since it’s my home, I should see it for myself.”

What was bound to come would arrive sooner or later.

On the drive, Nigel briefed her on the family’s current affairs. The Morrison empire was vast, with the majority of assets once held directly by Niel.

A smaller portion rested with Niel’s father and elder brother. Now that Niel’s entire estate had passed to Khloe, she had become the Morrison Group’s largest shareholder.

At present, Niel’s father, Henry Morrison, was abroad recuperating. Niel’s widow, Clarice Davis, managed the household, while the company’s operations were left to their adopted son, Ethan Morrison.

An hour later, the extended Rolls-Royce glided through the iron gates of the Morrison estate.

The mansion complex sprawled across more than ten thousand square feet, majestic and intimidating. The drive from the gates to the main villa alone took over ten minutes. Its architecture dwarfed ordinary mansions, every stone radiating extravagance, as though even a single brick could buy a city block.

It was Khloe’s first time entering such an opulent world. She would have been lying to claim she wasn’t nervous, yet she forced herself to remain composed.

Nigel led her into the main villa’s reception hall. As the heavy doors opened, Khloe saw a regal woman standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, two attendants flanking her. On the sofa sat a young man in a tailored suit.

The woman’s gaze swept briefly across Khloe before she approached.

“This is Madam Clarice, your late father’s wife,” Nigel murmured in her ear.

“And that is Master Ethan, your late father’s adopted son. He is your foster brother,” he added, nodding toward the man on the sofa.

As Clarice lifted her chin in a silent command, Nigel withdrew, ushering the staff out of the room. In moments, only Khloe and the mother-son duo remained.

“So. You are Khloe.”

Khloe gave a single, quiet nod. Though Clarice’s mouth was curved into a smile, Khloe could feel the ice in her gaze.

“Sit,” Clarice instructed, her voice cool. “You’re home now. There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Ethan echoed the sentiment with polished, empty politeness. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Khloe chose a seat in the far corner of the lavish sofa. “Clarice,” she began, getting straight to the point, “may I ask why you wanted to speak with me?”

“Let’s not waste time,” Clarice interrupted, bypassing any pretense of a warm welcome. “I need you to relinquish your claim to the majority of your inheritance.”

She gave a slight nod to Ethan, who slid a pre-prepared agreement across the table.

“Khloe,” he said, his tone as cool and impersonal as a business transaction, “my father’s estate was left entirely to you. However, control of the company cannot fall into your hands. We trust you understand. As compensation, we are prepared to offer you ten million dollars in cash.”

It was delivered not as an offer, but as a decree.

Khloe blinked, then picked up the document and began flipping through its pages with an air of detached curiosity.

Voluntarily forfeit all Morrison family shares, voting rights, and properties…

Clarice took a slow, unhurried sip of her tea.

“I know all about your background,” she stated, her voice dripping with condescension. “Your mother and Niel shared nothing more than a fleeting affair. You were an accident. Abandoned to an orphanage at three years old… you’ve had a difficult life. Ten million is more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. But the public face of the Morrison family cannot be an illegitimate child. I expect you to have the self-awareness to understand that.

“Nevertheless, you are Niel’s daughter. You carry the Morrison blood. In name, you will remain the eldest daughter of this family. Should you ever find yourself in need, you may come to me.”

Her tone was utterly final, leaving no room for doubt that she expected immediate compliance.

Khloe closed the folder and set it back on the table. She met Clarice’s gaze, her own eyes steady and unflinching.

“Khloe, if you have no objections, please sign here,” Ethan urged, nudging a pen across the tabletop.

“I refuse.”

Khloe had anticipated this. The Morrison family would never genuinely welcome a so-called “bastard child” with open arms. What they called a negotiation was merely coercion dressed in civilized clothing.

Her voice remained steady as she continued, “Clarice, you call me illegitimate. But the law recognizes paternity. My father left a will, a DNA report, and had me sign a notarized inheritance agreement with his attorney. That is more than enough to establish my legal right.”

Clarice’s face darkened as she studied Khloe, as if seeing a completely different person. It had never occurred to her that this girl would dare to push back.

“You should understand, Khloe,” Clarice sneered, her composure cracking to reveal pure contempt, “even if the estate is legally yours, you lack the capability to manage it.”

Ethan, too, looked stunned. No one in Goldmont City had ever dared to refuse his mother so directly.

“Khloe,” he said, dropping all pretense of politeness, “this isn’t a request. The Morrison family’s affairs are far more complex than you can imagine. Your decision impacts everyone. You cannot stand against the entire family.”

But Khloe saw it clearly—this was a simple power play. To them, money was control, and she was a nobody they expected to buy off with pocket change.

Unfortunately for them, she wasn’t one to bend.

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