It Turns Out I'm the Real Heiress to Wealth

Sitting at the makeup table, I was still pondering how to end this engagement without revealing that I already knew the truth.

Just then, Oliva unwittingly handed me the perfect opportunity.

I heard her arguing with my mother outside the door.

"I love Henry, and we're truly in love! Why should that woman get to have him? Can't we think of another way?"

"You've endured for twenty years, can't you hold on for a few more days? Patience is key; our plan is almost complete. After that, you can run off with him, and I won't care," my mother replied.

Plan? What plan?

I seized the moment and quietly slipped out.

I crept up behind them and said, "Mom, what are you talking about?"

My mother was clearly startled by me, and her face turned pale instantly.

"Olivia how did you get out here? I was just having a little chat with Oliva."

In all these years, she had rarely called me by my name. To her, it seemed I didn't deserve to share the name of her precious daughter.

What had I done wrong? I had come into this world first and spent more time with her than Oliva. Why was it that Oliva was the only daughter in her eyes? Was it just because she was the product of her first love?

Years ago, my mother had resolutely divorced my father, not only because he had failed in business and amassed debts, but for another important reason.

Oliva's father, Adams Reynolds, was her first love, her unforgettable first love.

Once Adams had divorced his first wife, my mother eagerly sought him out, and under her relentless pursuit, they got back together.

She abandoned my father but fought for my custody, and I had always believed she loved me, that she couldn't bear to leave me. After all, what mother doesn't love her child?

But my experiences over the years taught me a harsh truth: women often love what they associate with. She hated my father, so she transferred that hatred onto me.

But why keep me close if she despised me?

"Enough, mom! You can endure, but I can't!" Oliva looked down at me with arrogance. "Only those who aren't loved are the third party. Henry and I truly love each other. You should've stepped aside long ago."

My mother stared at me, silent, her face flushing with a mix of anger and shame.

I struggled to process her words. So, according to her, only those who aren't loved are the third party. Did that mean Henry had never loved me?

Just then, hearing the commotion, Henry rushed over.

When he saw the standoff, he seemed to grasp the situation.

"Olivia, listen to me, I really want to marry you, believe me."

I shrugged off his hand from my shoulder. "You want to marry me, but you're with my sister?"

Henry stared at me in disbelief. "You already know? When did you find out?" He pointed angrily at Oliva. "Did she tell you?"

"If you don't want others to know, don't do it yourself. Henry, I've had enough of you these years. Let's break up."

With the goal achieved, Oliva laughed, linking her arm with Henry's.

"Alright, enough pretending. If you're not tired, I am."

She leaned in and kissed Henry on the cheek right in front of me.

My mother watched their intimate display without a word. She simply glanced at me, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes.