Chapter 1
The fancy birthing center hit me up asking how I was “enjoying my stay.”
I literally froze.
I’m eight months pregnant. Baby’s still inside. I haven’t checked into jack shit.
I marched straight to my husband-Mr. “I’m Handling Everything.”
He went full puppy-dog eyes. “Babe, listen-that place runs like eight hundred grand. We’re not made of money. They obviously screwed up the contact info.”
“You’ll be fine at home! I’ll wait on you hand and foot, I swear-”
Yeah, no.
My sister owns that birthing center.
I dialed her up.
“Pull up every reservation under Damien Carter’s name. I wanna know which homewrecking slut is living it up in MY suite.”
Time to head over there and burn it all down.
4
Contact mix-up? Yeah, right.
My sister locked down the VIP maternity suite the second she heard I was pregnant. Top-shelf everything. Fully paid. Just walk in when the baby comes.
When they called, I confirmed every detail twice.
Someone was in my room.
Hell no.
When I first brought up the birthing center, Damien threw a fit. “Normal people give birth at home. Why do you need to be such a princess?”
Because I can, jackass..
I grabbed an Uber.
15.42
Stole My $800K Suite Claiming You’re the Heiress? CUTE-I Own the Whole Building, Sweetheart!
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Chapter 1
Twenty minutes later, I walked into a lobby swarming with pregnant women pricing out packages.
I waited until the receptionist wasn’t drowning in brochures, then stepped up.
“Hey. I’m Olivia Carter-you called me earlier about a satisfaction survey?”
She squinted at me.
“Mrs. Carter? But you’re already upstairs in your suite.”
My stomach dropped.
“Like, literally just now,” she continued. “You’came down to tell us how amazing the service was.”
Someone checked in as me.
I clenched my jaw. “I’m the actual Olivia Carter.”
She sized me up like I was trying to return worn shoes.,
“Ma’am. If you can’t afford us, don’t pull this scam artist routine. The real Mrs. Carter came in with her husband. We’ve been dealing with Mr. Carter for weeks. So unless you want security involved…”
I just stood there.
My husband. Someone else’s husband now.
Before I could fire back, the elevator dinged.
Out walked a woman dripping in my jewelry-the $600K jade bracelet from my brother, the $800K pendant from my sister. Even in the center’s basic cotton robe, she looked like she’d stepped out of a spa commercial.
I knew exactly who she was.
Sophie Bennett. Some bottom-rung intern at Damien’s firm.
The receptionist jabbed a finger at her. “There’s Mrs. Carter. Now beat it before I make calls.”
I didn’t budge. Just locked eyes with Sophie.
She saw me. Went sheet-white. Speed-walked over, voice all fluttery.
“Oh my god-Olivia! What are you doing here? Are you… getting a tour or something?”
15:42
Stole My $800K Suite Claiming You’re the Heiress? CUTE-I Own the Whole Building, Sweetheart!
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Chaphy 2
Xhe wrist shoving me toward the corner
Come on, let’s not make a scene. These people are working”
Fabused burst out laughing
Normally she’s all over me Olivia, you’re the best!” “Olivia, I owe you so much!”-laying it on thick.
Now that hey cover’s about to blow? Suddenly I’m just “Olivia.” Plat. Scared.
I shook her off and backed up. Zero sympathy.
“Sophie Bennett. Wanna tell everyone why you’re lounging in my maternity suite? The one my family paid for? Using my name”
A jabbed a finger at her jewelry, “Oh, and those? That’s my six hundred thousand dollar bracelet. My eight hundred thousand dollar pendant. So yeah-why the hell are you wearing my stuff?”
Loud enough for the whole lobby to hear.
Every head turned. Sophie’s face went blotchy.
Then-boom-waterworks.
“Olivia, what are you even saying right now? My husband booked this place because he loves me and wants me taken care of. That’s literally it.”
She flashed her wrist like evidence. “He bought me these. Why would they be yours?”
She gave me this pitying once over.
“Honey… is your husband being awful to you? Because this sounds like prenatal psychosis or something. You’re spiraling.”
The crowd started whispering. I could feel their judgment crawling all over me.
“Wait, is that what pregnancy psychosis looks like?”
“I heard Mrs. Carter’s suite costs eighty grand. Look at this chick’s outfit-Target clearance vibes, She probably can’t even afford eight hundred bucks.”
