Nicholas had spent his entire life dreaming of wealth. Growing up poor in a cramped apartment, he became obsessed with the luxurious lifestyles he saw on television. By 25, he had perfected his charm offensive – the attentive listening, the flattering words, the carefully crafted persona designed to win over wealthy women. His plan was simple: marry into money, no matter the cost.
Victoria Hathaway seemed like the perfect mark. A recently widowed heiress in her sixties with one of California’s largest fortunes, she radiated elegance at a high-society event where Nicholas had sneaked in. While other young men avoided the age gap, Nicholas saw only dollar signs. Their courtship was meticulously calculated – lavish dinners, praise for her philanthropy, declarations that he’d been searching for someone exactly like her.
After six months of this charade, Nicholas proposed with a ring he couldn’t afford, spinning romantic lies about love transcending age. Victoria’s hesitation melted under his practiced sincerity. As wedding plans progressed, Nicholas focused on one thing: the moment her signature would make him a wealthy man.
But at the altar, as he slid the ring onto Victoria’s finger, his world shattered. There, just below her collarbone, was a crescent-shaped birthmark – identical to the one his adoptive parents had described when telling him about the birth mother who abandoned him. The realization hit like lightning: the woman he was marrying was his biological mother.
In a private room moments later, the truth came out in shocked whispers. Victoria confessed she’d been forced to give up her baby at sixteen, never knowing what became of him. Nicholas fled the wedding, leaving society buzzing with scandal. Victoria later confirmed their relationship through records and disinherited him. The last she heard from Nicholas was a single cryptic note: “Forgive me…” before he disappeared completely.
