Fake Young Lady, Get Out of My House!

The next morning, as I lay in bed scrolling through my phone, I noticed Polly had posted a new update. She uploaded a new video claiming that her maid's daughter, who had been severely bullied at school, had suffered a mental breakdown. Out of pity, she let the girl stay at her house, which explained why the girl was in her livestream last night, scolding her.

I was shocked. Even in this life, without me slapping her, Polly still fabricated the story that I was a maid's daughter staying at her house. Reading the comments praising her beauty and kindness, I couldn't help but laugh.

I got up immediately. I had to see if Polly had packed her bags.

There was a knock on the door. When I opened it, I found Nancy, the real maid and her mother waiting anxiously. She rushed up to me as soon as she saw me.

"Miss, I'm sorry! Polly shouldn't have done that last night! I apologize on her behalf. Please don't kick her out. I beg you," Nancy whispered. As I broke free from her embrace, I noticed she was in tears while Polly filmed us with her phone.

"What are you recording?" I asked, stepping toward Polly. She quickly hid her phone.

"It's nothing. I was just curious. I wasn't recording," Polly said, tucking her phone away.

"Stay right there!" I was about to confront her when my mom's voice interrupted us.

"Vivian, did you say something harsh to Polly? Are you planning to kick her out?" Mom looked stern as she approached me.

Seeing my mom looking so vibrant reminded me of her distressed state in my previous life. I hesitated.

When I regained my composure, I saw my mom apologizing to Polly. "Vivian is immature. Don't take her seriously."

I knew I couldn't get Polly out of the house now. Even if I told Mom about her pretending to be a rich heiress and flaunting our wealth, Polly wouldn't face much punishment. So, I had to temporarily compromise.

I posted a video exposing Polly for using my family's mansion and luxury cars to fake being a rich heiress. I wouldn't let her keep accumulating fans and endorsements under this false pretense. The video caused a brief stir, but Polly didn't respond directly. Instead, her biggest fan, Freddy Scott, quickly came to her defense, posting a video of Nancy hugging me with the caption, "A mother working hard to earn money to treat her daughter's mental illness," set to a sentimental music background.

Public opinion shifted. The attacks turned toward me. Polly's fans accused me of being ungrateful, heartless, and a delusional wannabe. They praised Polly for her kindness, turning her into a beloved internet angel. Polly's fan base grew even larger.

Freddy Scott, her devoted fan, often contributed significantly to her streams. He used his influence to run a voice chat group, where he praised Polly's kindness in taking me in and providing for my treatment while I repaid her with ingratitude and slander. I joined the group with a dummy account, listening as Freddy passionately denounced me. Polly was there too, silent but not denying anything, enjoying the benefits of the situation. I had underestimated her cunning nature.

To my surprise, even Nancy created an account, posting photos of us together, with videos her daughter had taken, captioned, "No matter what, I'll always be her mother." I suspected Polly's idea behind this move. Nancy was willing to go to any lengths to make her daughter famous. Their bond was indeed touching.

Since Nancy was employed by my mom, I couldn't fire her directly. So, I showed my mom Nancy's videos.

"Nancy, what's going on?" My mom confronted her with the videos.

"I… I just meant that I treat Vivian like my own daughter. Madam, you've misunderstood me," Nancy stammered.

"But my real mom is still here. Why are you trying to take her place? Or do you want to replace her?" I provoked Mom's displeasure, aiming to get Nancy out sooner.

Mom's face turned grim.

"No, no! Absolutely not!" Nancy frantically shook her head. "Madam, you've misunderstood. I just meant that I care for Vivian like a daughter. I had no other intentions. I'll delete the videos right away. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Nancy dropped to her knees, pleading pitifully.

Seeing this, I knew my mom would forgive her.

As expected, Mom sighed and helped Nancy up. "Just delete the videos. They make Vivian uncomfortable, and I don't like them either."

"Okay, okay, I'll delete them now!" Nancy quickly grabbed her phone and deleted the videos.

Late at night, on my way to the bathroom, I heard voices outside my room. Out of curiosity, I followed the sound to Nancy and Polly's room.

"Why did you delete the videos? Why didn't you tell me? You could have smeared her! Now I look guilty!" Polly's voice was angry.

"If I didn't delete it, Madam would have fired me! Then we'd both be homeless! Do you want to go back to your gambler father?" Nancy retorted.

"Now the fans are doubting me!"

"You're meeting Mr. Bennett tomorrow, right? What's there to fear?"

"Shh, keep it down!"

Hearing their hushed voices, I quickly returned to my room.

In my previous life, Polly had posted a photo with my dad, captioned, "The person I respect the most," with a fatherly music background. It was vague enough to be believed but not sued for lying.

I had some business questions to ask my dad, so I decided to take this opportunity to see how Polly approached him.

In my previous life, I wanted to step out of my parents' shadow and build my own business, so I kept my relationship with them under wraps. As a result, many people didn't know who I was, which allowed Polly to steal my identity and become a social media star with millions of followers, making a fortune in the process.

Having been given a second chance, I decided to change my approach.

When I arrived at my father's company, the receptionist gave me a disdainful look. I didn't need to guess whose doing this was. Polly Beck, now a social media influencer with a million followers, had undoubtedly spread the word about how I supposedly bullied her.

When I asked to see my father, Steven Bennett, the receptionist pressed the security alarm button. "Sorry, without an appointment, I can't let you in."