The Billionaire's Rejected Twins

Bella’s fists clenched under the tablecloth until her nails bit into her palms.

The room buzzed with a family gathering, lights glittering off crystal glasses and gold-rimmed plates, but the air felt suffocating.

Alex Seneca, her father, the man who commanded boardrooms and headlines, leaned back in his chair, smiling like he’d just closed a deal.

“Bella, you’re twenty-three,” he said, voice carrying over the low chatter. “You’re not getting any younger. It’s time to think about settling down.”

And her stepmother, Evelyn sat beside him, lips curled into that sweet, venomous smile she wore like perfume.

“Yes, darling,” she purred, eyes glinting. “Before your looks fade… and your womb loses its chance. It would be such a shame to waste any more time.”

Bella’s throat burned. She stared at her father, waiting for the joke, a laugh, or anything to make this stop.

Just an hour ago, Alex had stood in this same spot, glass raised, telling everyone how proud he was of his daughter.

Now he was selling her future to the highest bidder.

“These men are from big political backgrounds,” he continued, nodding toward the three commissioners seated across the table. “Just be a big girl and pick one. You’re getting too old to remain this way.”

The words landed like slaps.

Family members stared, uncles, cousins and aunts eyes wide, mouths half-open, but no one spoke. No one ever did when Alex Seneca spoke.

Bella’s chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.

The same man who ran one of the biggest finance empires in the country was treating her like a pawn on his chessboard.

This wasn’t about her. It was about alliances, about power, about shaking hands over her future like it was ink waiting for a signature.

Gerald Hawthorne rubbed his bald head, chuckling nervously.

“I must admit, I’ve always believed a strong woman needs a steady… older man to guide her. I assure you, Bella, I could be that man.”

Bella’s stomach turned. His fingers drummed the table, eyes lingering too long on her chest.

Roland Whitaker cleared his throat, shifting in his seat like he was posing.

“Bella… you shouldn’t worry about the little things. A woman like you deserves a man who can provide stability and passion. I can offer all that and, well, I think I’m… handsome enough for you.”

"Handsome". The word made her want to laugh bitterly.

His belly pushed against his shirt, his cheeks moving with an awkward smile.

Victor Langford leaned in last, fingers steepled, voice low and intimate.

“Bella… I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I’ve admired you for years. Ever since you turned eighteen, I’ve… noticed you, and I can’t deny the attraction I feel. I believe I could make you happy, in every way a man can.”

The room tilted.

Victor. The man who’d come to family dinners since she was ten, patting her head, calling her “little princess.”

Now he sat there confessing lust like it was romantic.

Disgust surged hot in her throat.

These men, old enough to be her father, some older than her father, talking about her womb, her looks, her body like she was property up for bid.

Alex watched her, expectant, like she’d thank him for the opportunity.

Bella stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said, voice steady even though her throat burned. “I can’t do any of this. Not now. Not ever.”

Alex’s smile vanished. His jaw tightened, but she didn’t wait for the explosion.

She turned and walked, heels clicking sharp across the marble.

Murmurs rose behind her, soft at first, then louder, a wave of whispers chasing her back.

She kept her chin up, spine straight, even as heat flooded her face.

The double doors to the hall loomed ahead. She pushed through without looking back.

****

Bella slumped onto the velvet couch in the club lounge, with the bass thumping through her ribs.

Empty bottles crowded the table, she’d lost count after the third drink. The room spun every time she lifted her head.

Stephanie hovered close, twisting her hands.

“Okay, babe, relax a little,” she said, voice thin over the music. “We’re here to forget what happened, not end up on the bathroom floor.”

Angela snorted, already pouring another shot from the last bottle.

“Oh please,” she cut in, sliding the glass toward Bella. “Drink it. After what they pulled tonight, you deserve to forget every single one of them.”

Bella lifted the glass, the rim clinking against her teeth. She took a long pull, liquid fire sliding down her throat.

“Old,” she muttered, barely audible. “They talk to me like I’m expired goods or something… I’m twenty-three, Angie. Twenty-three.”

Angela’s smile faded. She leaned in, voice dropping low so Stephanie wouldn’t hear.

“You keep pushing away the best ones, Bella… all these wealthy, handsome guys, and you sit there like you’re untouchable. You really deserve every mess coming your way.”

Bella stared at her, head spinning. The words sounded muffled, like Angela was mumbling, and the sting hit even more because she was high on all the whiskey.

Angela straightened and clapped her hands loud.

“You two are acting like old ladies at a funeral. C’mon, Bella, drag your sorry self up. Let’s dance before the night’s over.”

She grabbed Stephanie’s wrist. Stephanie hesitated, glancing back at Bella, but Angela tugged harder, pulling her away.

They vanished into the crowd on the dance floor, swallowed by flashing lights and bodies but bella stayed put.

The music pounded, rattling her teeth. She leaned forward, resting her head lightly on the bar, pressing her hands against her temples to steady the spinning.

Then she lifted her head slowly, the room still tilting at the edges. The seat next to her had filled without her noticing. A man, shoulders broad under a dark shirt, elbows resting casually on the bar.

She froze when she looked up and met his eyes. Blue, sharp and clear, impossible to ignore.

“Blue eyes,” she whispered, barely audible over the beat.

He tilted his head, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You good?” His voice cut clean through the noise, low and steady. “You look a bit overstimulated.”

Bella blinked hard, trying to focus. “Yeah… my head’s pounding. I’ve had a really long day.”

He chuckled once, short and dry. “Long day? I can see this place clearly isn’t helping with that.”

She stared at him longer than she meant to, the line of his jaw, the way his shirt collar sat open just enough. Handsome in a way that felt unfair.

“Yeah,” she said, voice rough from whiskey and shouting over the music. “It’s way too loud in here anyways.”

He leaned in a fraction, close enough she caught the faint scent of clean cologne and smoke. “Well, I know someplace more quiet.”

The words hung between them, simple but loaded. Bella’s pulse jumped, not from fear but from something sharper. She looked at his mouth, thin lips, curved just enough to promise trouble. Then back to those eyes.

“Yeah… lead the way,” she said, her voice low, a little rough from the whiskey and the music.

She stood before she could talk herself out of it. He rose with her, smooth and sure. His hand found her waist, fingers firm but not rough, guiding her through the crush of bodies toward the elevator.

The elevator doors opened. His hand stayed at her waist as they walked out.They slipped into the car without talking. The ride passed quiet and fast. Then another hallway, with softer lights. He swiped the card, and the door to their room opened.

They barely made it inside before his mouth found hers first. Bella’s back hit the wall. She gasped into the kiss, fingers twisting in his shirt.

Clothes came off fast. His shirt hit the floor. While her dress pooled at her feet.

They stumbled toward the bed. Sheets tangled under them as his weight pinned her, skin hot against skin.

Bella arched, nails raking his back as he pushed inside, slow at first, then deep and relentless. Moans tore from her throat, raw and loud, echoing off the high ceilings.

She grabbed fistfuls of sheets, head thrown back, body moving with his rhythm. His mouth moved over her neck, her breast, teeth grazing until she cried out.

The bed creaked beneath them. Sweat slicked their skin, and their breaths ragged.

Bella shattered first, legs locking around him, a name on her lips she didn’t even know she said. He followed seconds later, a low groan buried in her shoulder.

They collapsed together, chests heaving, limbs tangled. Exhaustion crashed over her like a wave.

Bella’s eyes fluttered shut, the room spinning slower now.

The morning light sliced through the half-closed blinds. Bella woke with a dry mouth and a head full of cotton. The sheets tangled around her legs.

She blinked at the high ceiling, the sleek furniture, the faint scent of sex and cologne still in the air. Pieces of the night came back to her in a rush, spinning through her head.

She turned her head.

He sat in the armchair across the room, laptop open on his lap, fingers moving fast over the keys. The same perfect face from last night, but colder now, focused, like she was already gone.

Recognition slammed into her.

It was Lorenzo De Luca. The CEO who’d built an empire from nothing, the man who the press called ruthless and who treated women like they were disposable.

He glanced up, eyes flat.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

His voice was familiar from the club, but stripped of warmth.

Bella pushed up on her elbows, the sheets slipping. Her head throbbed harder.

“What… what time is it?”

“Time for you to get dressed and leave,” he said without looking back at the screen. “Now.”

The words landed like ice water. She stared, waiting for the joke, the smile or anything to soften it. Nothing came.

Her throat tightened.

“Last night wasn’t nothing to me.”

He closed the laptop with a soft click, stood, and crossed the room. From the wardrobe, he pulled out her dress and underwear and tossed them onto the bed. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and threw it at her feet.

Bills scattered across the sheets.

“Take this,” he said flatly. “And please, I don’t want to ever see you near me again. You understand?”

Bella’s breath caught. The humiliation burned hotter than anything from the family dinner. She stared at the money, then at him.

“Is this really how you do things?” Her voice shook. “We shared a night. I’m not saying it has to mean more...but it doesn’t have to end like this either.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer, looming.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“I didn’t bring you here because I was interested,” he said coolly. “I brought you here because you were available. That’s the difference.”

The implication hit like a slap. Her stomach turned.

“You think I’m… what? A prostitute?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he turned back to the wardrobe, grabbed a small bottle, and shook out two white tablets into his palm.

“Take these,” he said, holding them out. “And the money. Then leave.”

Bella stared at the pills, tears stinging her eyes.

“What are they?”

“Contraceptive,” he replied. “Swallow them. I’m not interested in you coming back with a child and claiming that it's mine.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for them. He caught her chin instead, forced the pills between her lips, thumb pressing until she swallowed dry.

Tears spilled hot down her cheeks. He released her and stepped back.

“Maids will escort you out,” he said coldly. “I have more important things to do than waste time on you.”

Without another glance, he walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.

Bella sat frozen, naked except for the sheets, money scattered around her like trash. The silence rang louder than the club ever had.