Novel: My Father Owns the City
Lily Hart froze mid-step outside the private dining room. Her boyfriend Marcus Sterling’s childhood best friend, Penelope Cross, was speaking in that smug, authoritative tone she’d perfected over the last three hours.
“Marcus, look at how she walks. It’s textbook gold-digger training camp. She’s after your money.”
Lily’s breath caught. Her hand trembled against the wall.
“Think about it. A Patek Philippe watch, a limited Birkin, a sports car worth millions? How could a regular doctor afford that?”
The words sliced through her chest like broken glass.
Lily pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved fast. She dialed the one number that mattered.
“Dad. Wire me ten million. I’m buying out a socialite fraud agency tonight.”
Her father, Harrison Hart—the richest billionaire in Veridia City—answered without hesitation. “On it, sweetheart.”
She hung up and pushed the door open.
Penelope was holding Lily’s Hermes Birkin, rotating it under the dim light like a forensic analyst. “I’m telling you, fake socialites always try too hard. This bag? Rental.”
Lily didn’t respond. She just watched.
“Let me authenticate that watch too,” Penelope said, reaching for the Patek Philippe on Lily’s wrist.
Marcus nodded eagerly. “Go on, Lily. Let her see it.”
Lily unclasped the watch and handed it over. “This is a highly limited edition. Don’t mess up your appraisal.”
Penelope’s eyes flickered. For a split second, raw jealousy flashed across her face. She knew it was real. But she still lied.
“Cheap replica. Classic fake socialite behavior. Trying to trap a rich guy, right?”
The table turned. Eyes shifted from admiration to disgust.
Marcus slammed his hand on the table. “I can’t believe you! You’re just like every other woman—after my money!”
Lily’s heart went cold. She grabbed her bag and stood. “I’m done.”
“Wait—running off to return that rental sports car?” Penelope laughed.
“What makes you think it’s a rental?”
“Oh, please. Your little tricks are obvious. The registered owner is a fifty-year-old man.”
Lily’s lips curled. “That man is my father.”
“Sure it is,” Penelope sneered. “And I’m the queen of England.”
“Fine. We’re through,” Lily said to Marcus.
He scoffed. “You don’t deserve me anyway.”
The next day, Penelope posted a viral slander: *Dr. Lily Hart is a fake socialite juggling three sugar daddies.* Lily was suspended from the hospital.
Then Penelope found the three men in Lily’s phone—her father and two brothers—and called them. “We’ve formed a victims’ alliance! They’re coming to confront her!”
Lily waited in the hospital lobby. Penelope’s grin was vicious.
Five minutes later, Harrison Hart walked in, flanked by Damian and Julian. A dozen bodyguards cleared the path.
Penelope rushed forward. “Mr. Hart! The fake socialite is right there! We taught her a lesson for you!”
Harrison stopped. His hand shot out and cracked across Penelope’s cheek with brutal force.
“Are you the one falsely accusing my daughter of being a mistress?”
# CHAPTER 2: THE SLAP HEARD ROUND THE WORLD
The sound ricocheted off marble floors.
Penelope's head snapped sideways. Her hand flew to her cheek, fingers trembling against the blooming red mark. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.
Security guards froze mid-stride.
Reporters hidden behind potted plants scrambled forward, phones raised.
"You—" Penelope's voice cracked. "You *hit* me."
Harrison Hart adjusted his cufflinks. His eyes were glacial. "I haven't even begun to punish you."
Cameras flashed. Voices overlapped. Someone screamed for hospital security. A janitor dropped his mop. Patients in wheelchairs craned their necks. The chaos spread like wildfire through dry grass.
Lily stood perfectly still.
Her father's hand still hung in the air, palm reddened from the impact. Damian and Julian flanked him like marble statues, their faces carved from the same cold stone.
"I want her arrested," Penelope shrieked, pointing at Harrison. "Assault! I have witnesses! I have *video*!"
Damian stepped forward. "You have nothing."
"Tell that to the news cameras!"
Julian laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. "My father owns three news networks. Want to guess which ones will air this footage?"
Penelope's face went pale beneath her makeup.
Lily reached down and retrieved her Birkin from where it had fallen during the commotion. Her fingers moved with mechanical precision. She opened the clasp. Pulled out her phone. Unlocked it.
"I'm pressing charges," she said.
Penelope's head whipped toward her. "For *what*?"
"Defamation. Libel. Intentional infliction of emotional distress." Lily's voice was flat, clinical. "I have screenshots of every post. Archived versions. Metadata showing your IP address. The timestamps match your social media accounts to the minute."
"You can't prove anything."
"I don't need to prove it." Lily looked up from her phone. "I just need to file it. The discovery process will do the rest."
Penelope's confidence flickered. She glanced at Marcus, who stood frozen near the elevators, his face a mask of confusion.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I... Lily, maybe we should talk about this privately—"
The word landed like a guillotine blade.
"We're done, Marcus. We were done the moment you chose her lies over my truth." Lily turned to her father. "Dad. Stop."
Harrison's hand was already reaching for his phone. "I'm calling the board. I own thirty percent of this hospital's shares. I want that woman banned from the premises."
The steel in her voice made him pause.
Lily stepped forward. The crowd parted instinctively, as if she radiated a heat that burned too bright to touch. She stopped three feet from Penelope.
"You wanted a public confrontation. Fine. You'll get one."
She faced the cameras directly. Her posture was rigid. Her hands didn't shake.
"My name is Dr. Lily Hart. I am a board-certified cardiac surgeon at Veridia General Hospital. Yesterday, I performed a seven-hour surgery on a six-year-old boy with a congenital heart defect. He is alive because of me."
"This woman posted a video claiming I am a fake socialite juggling three sugar daddies. She called me a fraud. She called me a gold-digger. She called me a mistress."
"My tax returns are public record. My hospital credentials are verifiable. My birth certificate lists Harrison Hart as my father. The three men she claims are my 'sugar daddies' are my father and my two brothers."
She turned her phone toward the cameras. A document filled the screen.
"This is my tax return from last year. My reported income: three hundred and seventy-two thousand dollars. My net worth, inherited from my family's holdings: two hundred million."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"The Birkin Penelope claimed was a rental? Purchased by me. Serial number on file with Hermès. The Patek Philippe she called a replica? Appraised at six hundred thousand dollars. The sports car? Titled in my name."
"I saved lives yesterday. Penelope Cross fabricated lies. The proof is in my records. The proof is in her financial history, which I have also obtained."
Penelope's face drained of all color. "You can't—that's illegal—"
"So is defamation." Lily smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "But we're not done yet."
She turned to the cameras again.
"This woman's social media platform depends on viral outrage. She built a following by destroying reputations. Today, she picked the wrong target."
Lily tapped her phone. A live stream opened.
"Hello, Veridia. My name is Lily Hart. Over the next twenty-four hours, I will release every piece of evidence I have collected against Penelope Cross. Every lie. Every fabricated post. Every financial transaction linking her to a rival socialite who paid her to destroy my reputation."
She looked directly at Penelope.
"Patience is a virtue. I've been patient for a year. I watched my boyfriend choose your lies over my truth. I watched the hospital suspend me without due process. I watched the internet call me a whore."
Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried through the entire lobby.
"Patience is a liability. I should have ended this the moment you opened your mouth."
Penelope's phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And again. A flood of notifications cascaded across her screen. Her face twisted as she read the comments.
*—Lily Hart is telling the truth. I'm her patient's mother. She saved my son's life.*
*—I work at the hospital. The credentials check out.*
*—Penelope Cross is a fraud.*
But Lily knew better. Outrage was a beast that fed on momentum. It didn't matter who started the fire—the flames would burn whoever stood closest.
Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:
*—We know you're lying. You'll pay for this.*
She looked at her father. At her brothers. At the cameras still filming every second of this disaster.
Then she made a decision.
She dialed Julian. He answered on the first ring.
"Brother. I need you to buy something for me."
"The social media platform that amplified Penelope's posts. The one that algorithm-boosted her slander. I want full ownership."
Julian didn't hesitate. "It's worth three hundred million."
"They'll sell. Their CEO has a terminal heart condition. I'm the best cardiac surgeon in the city."
"I have a plan," Lily said. "Trust me."
Penelope was still staring at her phone, watching her empire crumble comment by comment. Marcus was backing away, his face pale, his hands raised as if to ward off a blow.
Lily turned to the cameras one final time.
"You wanted a fake socialite. You got the wrong woman."
She walked toward the exit. Her heels clicked against the marble. The crowd parted. The cameras followed.
Behind her, Penelope screamed.
Lily didn't stop. She didn't turn. She just kept walking.
The glass doors slid open. The night air hit her face.
Julian: *—Deal is pending. He wants to meet you tomorrow. 8 AM. His penthouse.*
She typed back: *—Tell him I'll bring my surgical kit.*
The doors closed behind her.
And somewhere in the dark, a timer started ticking.
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