THE BASTARD SON IS REAL HEIR

The heavy oak doors of the Kyler mansion groaned as Arjun pushed them open. Three months ago, these doors had welcomed him home after his mother's funeral. Now they felt like the gates to his personal hell.

He'd returned early from a business trip, hoping to surprise his fiancée, Giulia. Instead, the sounds from the west wing bedroom told him everything he needed to know.

Arjun stood frozen in the doorway of what should have been his future marital bedroom. His half-brother, Marco, scrambled to pull on his shirt while Giulia remained draped in silk sheets, her expression utterly devoid of shame or surprise.

"Arjun." Her voice was flat, bored even. "You're back early."

"What... what is this?" His voice cracked despite his attempt to sound controlled.

Marco smirked, buttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. "Really, brother? You need it spelled out?"

"Giulia, you always said—" Arjun's hands trembled. "You told me you were frigid. That you weren't ready for intimacy. That we should wait."

Giulia's laugh was ice-cold. "Did you actually believe that?"

"I respected your wishes. I waited. I—"

"You were convenient," she cut him off, swinging her legs off the bed and reaching for her robe with absolute indifference. "A Kyler is a Kyler. Or so I thought."

Marco leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, enjoying the show. "Turns out some Kylers are more equal than others, isn't that right, Giulia?"

"Quite right." She tied her robe and finally met Arjun's eyes with a gaze that held nothing but contempt. "Let me make this simple for you, since you seem confused. I needed to marry into the Kyler family. The actual groom? Irrelevant."

"You lying—"

"Oh, spare me the wounded husband act." Giulia examined her nails. "You're pathetic, Arjun. You've been pathetic since your mother died. Walking around this house like a kicked dog, accepting every insult, every slight."

Marco pushed off from the dresser, circling Arjun like a predator. "She's not wrong, you know. Even the servants whisper about how far you've fallen. The golden son, reduced to scraps."

"I loved you," Arjun said quietly, looking at Giulia.

"How tedious." She moved past him toward her vanity. "Love won't give me the lifestyle I deserve. Love won't secure my future. Marco understands ambition. You understand nothing."

"Father will—"

"Father?" Marco laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "Oh, this will be entertaining. By all means, let's go tell Father."

The commotion had already drawn attention. Heavy footsteps approached down the hall—Arjun recognized them immediately. His father, Vittorio Kyler, appeared in the doorway, his new wife, Isabella, trailing behind with a serpent's smile.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" Vittorio demanded, his face thunderous.

"Father, I found them—" Arjun began.

"We were caught," Marco said smoothly, utterly unrepentant. "But honestly, Father, can you blame Giulia? Look at him. He's nothing. He has nothing. Why should she waste herself on a son who can't even command respect from the maids?"

Isabella placed a delicate hand on her husband's arm. "Vittorio, darling, perhaps this is for the best. The engagement was always... questionable."

"Questionable?" Arjun turned to his father, searching for some hint of support, some remnant of the man who'd once called him son. "Father, she betrayed me. With him."

Vittorio's eyes were cold steel. "And what exactly are you to this family now, Arjun? Your mother's death revealed what you truly are—weak. Sentimental. Useless."

"I've worked for this company for years—"

"You've taken up space," Vittorio interrupted. "Marco has brought in three major contracts this quarter alone. What have you contributed besides embarrassing this family with your weakness?"

Giulia spoke up, her voice carrying false sweetness. "Mr. Kyler, I apologize for any inconvenience. I should have been honest about my feelings sooner. But surely you understand—a woman must think of her future."

"Quite right," Vittorio said coldly.

Arjun felt the world tilting beneath him. "You can't be serious."

"The engagement is cancelled." Vittorio's pronouncement fell like an executioner's blade. "Effective immediately."

"Father—"

"Furthermore, you are no longer welcome in this house. Pack your belongings and leave by morning."

The silence that followed was absolute. Arjun looked from face to face—his father's contempt, Isabella's triumph, Marco's smirk, Giulia's indifference—and found nothing. No mercy. No family. Nothing.

"Is that all, Father?" Marco asked casually. "Because Giulia and I have dinner reservations."

Vittorio waved his hand dismissively. "Go."

As they walked past, Giulia paused beside Arjun. "Don't look so devastated," she whispered. "You were never going to be enough for anyone."

Arjun stood alone in the hallway as their laughter echoed down the corridor, the doors of his former home closing behind them—and before him—forever.