Intertwined Destinies: The Real and Fake Daughter

Dylan looked at me with a surprised expression.

I gave a polite smile. "Mr. Jones, if you had investigated more, you would know I'm allergic to cherries and strawberries. Do you think I'd like them?"

Dylan opened his mouth but said nothing. He hid the fruit behind him, probably out of guilt.

Seeing him like this, I turned around to go home.

Dylan grabbed my wrist from behind and looked at me gently. "Sorry, Ms. Walker. It was our mistake."

He handed me a key and continued, "This is the key to my room. Dad and Mom just want to see you. If you change your mind, you can come find me..."

I shook my head. I brushed his hand away and went home.

4

Strawberries and cherries were Lydia's favorite fruits. I was indifferent and didn't care what I ate.

When I finished piano practice as a child, the nanny would ask me what fruit I wanted. Lydia would smile and say strawberries and cherries.

I didn't argue. I didn't expect Dylan would bring these today. It would've been better if he hadn't.

Freya stretched lazily in my arms and then turned over to continue sleeping.

An idea suddenly came to mind.

I wondered if Lydia regretted taking my place now.

But I didn't regret it. After leaving, my life became bright and easy. I finished high school and college step by step and opened a flower shop in Tanelle after graduation.

I worked from sunrise to sunset.

I was very satisfied with my life, but life always liked to play tricks on me.

Half a month ago, news of Isaac's severe illness spread online. What I feared most had happened.

The Jones family discovered Lydia's true identity, reversing the switched-at-birth story again.

Seeing Dylan's attitude today, I realized the Jones family wouldn't give up easily. They were powerful, and I was alone.

If they were more forceful and took me away, I couldn't do anything. But fortunately, the organ donation consent form needed my signature. This was probably my last bargaining chip.

After feeding Freya cat food, I went to bed on time.

But with worries on my mind, I tossed and turned all night.

At nine the next morning, I packed Freya in a cat bag and prepared to go to the shop.

I had taken a day off yesterday because of Dylan, so I had to go today.

When I went out, I noticed the door across the hall had been open, with a bento box on a simple table.

A glance into the living room showed it was simple and clear, very much Dylan's style.

Seeing me come out, he took a long stride and walked up to me.

"I found out this is your favorite breakfast."

This time, he did put some thought into it.

I smiled at him. "Mr. Jones, haven't you heard a saying?"

Dylan's eyes flickered.

I said slowly, "Late affection is cheaper than grass, and so is family love."

I brushed his hand away again and went downstairs with Freya.

5

Even so, Dylan didn't give up.

There were always tables and chairs outside my flower shop for customers or passersby to rest. But today, Dylan sat there working.

He bought many bouquets from the shop, so I had no reason to drive him away.

I could only sulkily hold Freya, watch TV, and arrange flowers.

The flower shop usually had four part-time workers. There were three girls and one boy, all students from Forensic University.