He Proposed to the Fake Heiress , But I Was Never the Real One Either

"You've got it all wrong!"

I couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm not one of you Winfields! I just happen to look like your real daughter! I have zero interest in Solomon Simmons. This whole thing was staged by her!"

Solomon let out a cold laugh.

"You think saying all that is going to make me let you off the hook? My wife is Althea. No matter what she becomes, she's still my wife. You want to use these disgusting tricks to ruin her?" His voice dropped to something lethal. "Then I'll ruin you first. Someone get over here! Lock her in the freezer!"

My eyes went wide. "What?"

His men grabbed me by the arms and dragged me toward the vehicle. I thrashed and kicked with everything I had.

"I'm not Doreen Winfield! You can run a DNA test! Let go of me! Let go!"

In that moment, it hit me.

My two-million-dollar monthly salary, weighed against what I had to endure every single day?

It was nothing.

The freezer was fifteen degrees below zero.

I was wearing nothing but a thin layer of clothing. The second they threw me inside, my whole body seized with a violent shudder.

The lock clicked shut from the outside. I screamed until my throat was raw.

"I'm not Doreen Winfield! You have the wrong person!"

"Still pretending?"

Solomon's voice filtered through the door, muffled and indifferent.

"The combination lock has every Winfield's fingerprint registered. Keep up the act, and you can freeze to death in there for all I care."

Footsteps retreated. Then silence.

Panic clawed at my chest.

"Solomon? Solomon! Solomon, I'm not Doreen. I will die in here!"

Nothing. Not a sound.

I huddled into the corner, curling in on myself, breathing into my cupped hands. But even that feeble warmth wasn't enough.

My body temperature started to drop.

Everything blurred. My thoughts went hazy and slow, and somewhere in the fog, I heard the electronic chime of the lock disengaging.

I crawled toward the door.

It opened.

But on the other side, there was no one.

I stumbled out, legs barely holding me, and staggered into the living room.

The entire Winfield family was gathered there, crowded around Althea, showering her with comfort. Solomon looked frantic with worry.

"Is that bitch still faking it in the freezer?" he snapped. "Drag her out here! She's going to get on her knees and apologize to Althea!"

"No need." My voice came out hoarse. "I'm right here."

He froze.

Then the sneer returned. "Weren't you just insisting you're not Doreen Winfield? So what happened? You got yourself out just fine, didn't you?"

I looked around the room. Every Winfield was present.

Whoever had unlocked that door for me, I had no idea.

When I didn't speak, Kevin and Patricia erupted.

"Althea has no blood relation to us. It's only natural she'd feel insecure, and giving her a little extra is the least we can do," Kevin barked. "You are our daughter. Nothing changes that. So why do you insist on competing with her? Fighting her for everything? Are you even a Winfield?"

Patricia delivered her ultimatum. "Get on your knees and apologize. Or from this day forward, we don't have a daughter."

"Fine!"

I raised my voice so every last one of them could hear.

"I'll kneel. I'll bow my head to the floor if that's what you want. But since you're so insistent that I'm your daughter, then what about the company dividends? Shouldn't I be getting those too?"

Stunned silence.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Don't think I don't know. Althea pulls in over a hundred million in dividends every single year. You want to call me your daughter? Good."

I held out my hand.

"I'm not even asking for much. Fifty million. Hand it over, and I'll get on my knees and apologize right now."

"You—!" Patricia shot to her feet.

I cut her off before she could get another word out.

"What? You want me to play the dutiful daughter, but I don't see a single cent? Meanwhile, every last dollar of the dividends goes to someone with no blood relation to this family? And this is what you call family bonds?"

My voice cracked through the room like a whip.

"Is it?!"