A Housekeeper's Daughter Stole My Daughter's Identity

"And another thing—recover the deleted surveillance footage from the house. I don't care what it costs. Do whatever it takes!"

Assistant Jones was swift. Within a short time, the tech team sent over the restored data.

But the footage they recovered almost made my heart explode in my chest.

The latest video was from my daughter’s coming-of-age celebration.

But the girl wearing that million-dollar gown wasn't Frances.

"Such beautiful clothes are a waste on you," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Trash like you should be crawling with the dogs. You were just lucky to be born into this house, but some things were never meant for you. Even if you have them, they’re worthless on you.”

“I heard today’s your birthday too. Here—you can have this cake.”

With a venomous smile, Demi tossed a slice of cake onto the floor in front of my daughter, eyes full of cruelty.

“Come on, lick it up. Don’t waste it.”

“You’re just the housekeeper’s daughter. Being ordered around like a dog by Miss Demi should be an honor.”

Laughter and mocking followed. One of them even grabbed Frances by the hair and shoved her face into the cake on the ground.

Frances struggled, eyes full of tears, turning toward a boy off-camera.

“Jericho… please…”

But the next moment, Demi stomped viciously on my daughter’s hand.

“Bitch. Know your place!”

“Jericho is mine!”

My daughter’s desperate screams were drowned out by music and laughter.

Jericho—the boy who had grown up with my daughter, her childhood best friend, her shadow—stood there, expressionless, as Demi humiliated her.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even lift a finger to stop it.

Rage boiled in my chest.

Just then, another message came in from Assistant Jones.

“President Wilson, the food you asked us to test came back positive. It contained large amounts of hormones.”

I stared at my daughter’s bloated figure, her bruised face.

So that was why.

That innocent bowl of soup wasn’t just food—it was poison.

Poison that changed her appearance, destroyed her confidence, and stole her light.

Demi, at such a young age, was already this vicious?

Very well.

I would not let her go unpunished.

—

The next morning, Emma knocked on the door with breakfast.

“Frances, it’s time for school...” I gently tried to wake her.

But she trembled violently in my arms. “M-Mom... please, I don’t want to go. I never want to go back again...”

I let out a soft sigh. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll take you to withdraw from school.”

But just then, I was told the driver had already taken Demi to school.

A sharp glint of anger flashed in my eyes. “They go to the same school,” Emma said quickly. “Besides, Frances usually doesn't want to go, so Demi left first, and the driver just—”

I cut her off coldly.

“If a driver can’t tell the employer’s daughter from someone else, then he’s clearly not fit for the job. He’s fired.”

With that, I turned and headed straight to the garage.

—

On the way to school with Frances, I noticed people whispering and pointing at us.

Their mocking gazes were sharp as knives, cutting through the air.

Frances hunched her shoulders, wishing she could disappear.

“Oh look, the little mutt the Wilson family raised has shown up.”

“I heard she’s here to drop out.”

“A housekeeper’s daughter is dreaming of becoming a phoenix. What a joke.”

“Still pretending to be some kind of heiress!”

“Rats belong in the sewers. Clearly, the last lesson we gave her wasn’t enough.”

“And the woman next to her, you think she’s President Martinez’s mistress?”

“Old bitch bringing in her little bitch? Gross.”

“Disgusting. Nothing good ever comes from trash like that.”

Each cruel word made Frances flinch harder, her hands shaking.

Just then, Assistant Jones' call came through.