Reclaiming My Heiress Identity

After swallowing the pill, the red spots on Emma's face gradually faded.

Seeing the worry on their faces, her heart softened.

Do they still care about me? Does this mean I still have a place in their hearts?

After all, I’ve been with them for five years.

Emma suddenly remembered what Emilly had told her before—if the two of them ever fell in love with her, she would be given a chance to stay.

She wasn’t made of stone. Over the years, their occasional kindness had tempted her, and made her wonder if she could belong here.

The thought lingered, and before she could stop herself, she asked, "Mike, Jeff, after all this time… have you ever fallen for me? Even for just a moment?"

She wasn’t hoping to be their priority, just to have a small place in their hearts.

But the warmth in their expressions vanished the moment the words left her lips.

Mike scoffed, casually tossing the anti-allergy medicine onto the ground. His voice was filled with cold determination.

"Emma, have you forgotten? You're just a stand-in."

"Love you? Are we crazy?" His eyes darkened with disdain. "What makes you think you could ever compare to Emilly?"

As if driving the point home, he grabbed her wrist, pressing down on the fading red spot, his grip firm and unyielding. "Don't get ideas above your station."

Then, without hesitation, they turned and left.

Leaving Emma standing there, frozen.

After a long silence, she let out a bitter laugh.

Of course. She had been foolish.

How could she have expected them to love her?

With trembling fingers, she sent a message to Emilly.

The reply came almost instantly, as if Emilly had been expecting it.

"I’ll be in Boston in four days. I’ll transfer the final payment then. Take the money and never come back."

Four more days.

Then, her five-year role as a stand-in would finally come to an end.

She would leave this city filled with memories behind.

The next day, perhaps due to the allergy, Emma developed a high fever.

She drifted in and out of consciousness.

By the time the nanny woke her, her vision was so blurred she could barely make out faces.

"Miss Knapp, the gentlemen have requested a massage."

Emma wanted to refuse. But the nanny, close to tears, kept pleading.

Not wanting to cause trouble, she forced herself up despite the dizziness.

When she stepped into the courtyard, Mike and Jeff were already lounging on the recliners, waiting for her.

Emma's adoptive mother had been a farmer, constantly suffering from exhaustion. Out of necessity, Emma had learned how to give massages to ease her pain.

One day, she massaged Mike and Jeff on a whim.

Since then, it had become an unspoken rule—she had to continue.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped on her gloves and began.

Her technique hadn’t changed, but her hands trembled. Her eyes, bloodshot from the fever, struggled to focus.

She felt herself weakening with each passing second.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she licked her dry lips and whispered, "Can we stop here for today? I’m not feeling well."

She feared that if she stayed any longer, she would collapse in front of them.

But the moment the words left her lips, their expressions hardened.

"Emma, what do you mean by that?"

Mike’s narrowed eyes were a clear warning—he was on the verge of anger.

Emma had always been obedient. This was the first time she had ever defied them.

But she couldn’t hold on any longer.

Her body swayed, and she leaned against the wall for support, bending slightly as her strength gave out.

Mike and Jeff, however, didn’t believe her.

Jeff’s voice was laced with cold impatience.

"Drop the act."

"Just because we told you we don’t love you yesterday, you’re throwing a tantrum today?" He scoffed. "The gifts I bought for you are in the living room. Stop pretending."