Lyla Monroe
Kingsley.
A name known in every country, whispered in business schools, printed in headlines, feared in boardrooms.
Tech. Investments. Pharmaceuticals. Media. You name it—we touched it.
It wasn’t just a last name. It was an empire.
I had just landed in California. The sun was warmer here, softer. Not like the harsh glare of New York’s skyline. I sat quietly in the back of the Maybach, watching as tall palm trees blurred past the tinted windows. My heart pounded the closer we got to the one place I thought I’d never return to.
Home.
The long, winding road opened up to the estate gates, guarded by stone lions. And then—there it was.
My childhood home.
A towering castle-like estate, wrapped in sunlight and surrounded by acres of gardens in full bloom—roses, orchids, tulips—every flower you could name. There was a white barn tucked behind the greenhouse, just like I remembered it. The scent of jasmine danced in the air, and when I stepped out of the car, I inhaled deeply.
It was beautiful. Still.
But so different from the concrete towers and subway fumes I’d gotten used to.
California was always my favorite. But here… everyone knew me as Carter Kingsley’s daughter. The golden girl with everything handed to her. In high school, I couldn’t do anything without paparazzi clicking from across the parking lot. Every win, every loss—it all belonged to his name. Not mine.
No one ever saw me. Just the heiress. The legacy.
And maybe it was true—I had life served on a silver platter. But I wanted to know what it was like to earn something. To build something. To be me.
That’s why I left. That’s why I became Lyla Monroe.
I deleted Nova Kingsley from every document, built a whole fake résumé, and applied for the assistant job at Steele Enterprises. I knew Luca Steele would never hire me if he knew who I really was.
And yes—he was the hardest man I’d ever worked for.
Cold. Ruthless. Emotionless.
But I learned more from him in two years than I had in a lifetime. How to think fast. How to lead without being loud. How to hold power without showing it.
And now, here I was. Back where it all began.
I entered the estate through the grand marble foyer. The floors sparkled. Portraits of my ancestors hung on the walls like ghosts watching me come home. I walked through the hallway that once echoed with my laughter. Now it was silent.
I pushed the door open to my father’s private quarters.
“Daddy?”
He lay in bed—pale, thin, a shadow of the man the world still feared. Doctors stood nearby. Two nurses adjusted his IVs. A few of his lawyers whispered in the corner.
But when he looked at me, his eyes lit up.
“My baby girl,” he whispered.
I walked closer, my voice tight. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
He reached for my hand with surprising strength. “I didn’t want to bother you. I just wanted you here.”
“Not bother me?” I scoffed. “You’re dying, and you didn’t think to mention that?”
He smiled faintly. “Everything’s fine now. I just want to resign from the CEO position… and live out the rest of my days with your grandfather on the islands. Some peace and quiet. No emails. No boardrooms.”
“You’re not going to the islands,” I frowned. “What if the healthcare isn’t good there?”
“I’ll travel with the nurses. Full staff. Everything’s taken care of.”
I sighed. Exhausted. Conflicted. Hurt. “Nova,” he said softly. “Come here.”
I stepped closer.
“I go by Lyla now,” I said.
He gave a weak laugh. “No, you don’t. You are Nova Kingsley. My daughter. My one and only heir.”
I looked down. “But Daddy… I don’t want to be CEO.”
He stiffened.
“I mean… I do want to be a CEO. But of my company. Not the one you built. You built it with—” I hesitated. “With blood money. You know that.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes sad. “I know, my love. And I know what you stand for. That’s why I’m giving you everything. You can rebrand it. Reshape it. Make it better. Clean. Kind. Real. But Nova… this company is yours.”
He coughed, voice shaking. “Your mother and I built this for you. Don’t you remember what she used to tell you every night?”
I closed my eyes.
A flash. My mother’s voice, gentle and soft, brushing my hair before bed.
“You were born to lead, Nova. Not to hide. One day, this world will see your light. But you must believe in it first.”
She died when I was ten. But her stories… they stayed.
I let out a long breath. “Yes, I remember.”
My father smiled. “You’re my only daughter. My pride. My joy. I let you do everything—you wanted to disappear, to work as a low life secretary for God knows what reason… dressing like—what was that name we joked about?”
I laughed despite myself. “Professor Velma Wigglesworth.”
“Right!” He chuckled, weakly. “The cursed glasses. The Goodwill skirt. That hideous wig.”
I laughed again, wiping a tear.
“But now it’s time to step up,” he said. “No more hiding. No more wigs. Will you do it for me?”
I stared into his eyes. And I nodded. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll do it.”
His smile widened, soft and proud. “Alright then,” he said. “So, first things first…”
He paused.
“You will get married.”
My entire body locked.
“I beg your finest pardon?!” I snapped.
30
