After the Real Daughter was Abused and Died, The Fake Daughter Became Sickly

I burned the business card left by the Wilson family.

They waited for three days, but I didn't contact them, so they came to me again.

"Viola, this is the room that your father and brother just renovated for you. Do you like it?"

Last time when they came to me, they thought it was easy to take me home.

But when Jenny found me at the gate of my university, she was humble and had a flattering look on her face.

I took the picture from her hand and looked at it.

There was a high-end and luxurious princess bed and a neatly organized dressing table. Everything in the picture was so beautiful that it seemed unreal to me, who grew up in an orphanage.

If Jenny hadn't deliberately avoided my fingers when she handed the picture to me, I would have believed more that she wanted to take me home.

"Mrs. Wilson, I like what you prepared for me.

"But after all, you and Carol are a family. She will be unhappy if you do this for me.

"Also, our team successfully applied for a patent last month, and the company we worked with gave me a house. Don't worry. I have a house to live."

Jenny was dumbfounded.

As if she had forgotten that my hands had touched the old man's diapers, she grabbed me tightly in an instant.

"You have a house?"