THE TRAMPH WHO BECAME AN HEIR TO A FORTUNE

Chapter 1

"Dylan, hurry and bring me my shoes!" Valerie Haroldson’s sharp voice rang out impatiently.

Dylan rushed to the dressing room, where Valerie’s vast collection of shoes and clothes was neatly displayed. He carefully selected the pair she had chosen and returned to place them in front of her.

Valerie’s long, elegant legs stretched out—smooth, pale, and stunning. Dylan couldn’t help but swallow hard. His wife was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Put them on my feet!" Valerie snapped, snapping Dylan out of his reverie.

Dylan took a deep breath and knelt down, obeying her command. As he slipped the shoes onto her feet, his hand inadvertently brushed against her smooth calf.

With a sharp movement, Valerie pressed her heel into his hand. Pain shot through Dylan’s fingers.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" she hissed, her glare piercing.

Dylan withdrew his hand, wincing. He straightened up, took another deep breath, and said softly, "Happy birthday, Val."

"I don’t need your wishes," she sneered. "Remember, we only got married because of Grandfather. Now that the mourning period is over and the inheritance has been divided, you’ll soon be back on the streets where you belong!"

Her words hit him like a slap, but Dylan held her gaze. "I’m still your husband, Val."

"Keep dreaming," she retorted coldly.

Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out a bouquet of flowers he had prepared for her. "Here, I got this for you."

Valerie took the bouquet with a sarcastic smile, then threw it to the floor and crushed it under her heel.

"Don’t even think about trying to charm me, Dylan. A beggar like you has no right to hope for anything!" With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her footsteps echoing sharply against the marble floor.

Dylan remained frozen, watching her elegant silhouette disappear.

"What are you doing standing around, Dylan? Get to the kitchen! That’s where you belong!" Patricia, Valerie’s mother, barked as she appeared in the hallway.

"Mom, I was just helping Val with her dress," Dylan replied calmly, though his fists clenched at his sides.

"Hmph. Helping? More like trying to flirt with her!" Patricia spat. "Ungrateful beggar!"

Dylan met her gaze evenly. "You can order me around, Mom, but please don’t push my head like that. It’s demeaning."

"Demeaning?" Patricia scoffed. "You being in this family is the real humiliation! Now, shut up and do as you’re told!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the kitchen.

When they reached the door, Patricia shoved an apron into Dylan’s hands. "Put this on! The kitchen is the only place where someone like you belongs."

Dylan tied the apron around his waist without protest and stepped into the bustling kitchen. As he entered, he noticed the whispers among the staff.

"Psst… Did you see that? He wasn’t even invited to the party," one of the male staff whispered.

"I told you. Their two-year marriage is just for show," another murmured sympathetically.

Dylan cleared his throat loudly. "Could someone grab the cheese for me, please?" he asked, cutting through their gossip.

"Sure, Dylan," one of the staff replied, handing it over with a kind smile.

Everyone in the Haroldson mansion knew Dylan’s story. Once a homeless young man, he had been taken in by Valerie’s grandfather, Larry Haroldson, after an extraordinary act of honesty—returning a bag Larry had accidentally left behind. The bag contained a significant amount of cash and vital company documents.

Impressed by Dylan’s integrity, Larry had taken him under his wing and eventually married him off to Valerie, hoping Dylan’s humility would influence her spoiled nature.

But after Larry’s passing, the Haroldson family had shown their true colors. To them, Dylan was nothing more than an unwelcome outsider, a beggar who didn’t belong in their world of wealth and status.

Despite the constant mistreatment, Dylan endured it all silently. He owed Larry everything—not just for giving him a home, but for providing the financial support his sick mother desperately needed.

"Let’s serve the wine now," Dylan instructed, trying to shake off his thoughts. "We need everything to be perfect."

When the cart was ready, one of the waitstaff offered to take it out.

"I’ll do it," Dylan said, removing his apron. "I want to see how Valerie’s doing with the guests."

As the kitchen doors swung open, Dylan stepped into the grand dining hall, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"He’s walking straight into disaster," one of the staff muttered as they watched him go.

---

Meanwhile, in the Grand Dining Hall

"Congratulations to my daughter, Valerie. We’re proud of you. Grandfather Larry must be smiling at us from heaven. Now, enjoy the party. Before we raise our glasses, I’d like to share some wonderful news. Max, come up here and stand beside Valerie!"

Henry’s voice boomed over the microphone, drawing the attention of every guest.

The room fell silent, save for the rustle of curiosity.

"What’s going on with Max?"

"Why Max? Isn’t he just a business associate of the Haroldson family? Why stand next to Valerie?"

Murmurs filled the air, and all eyes turned toward the stage. Even the waitstaff froze in their tracks, waiting for Henry's next announcement.