The Cinderella They Sold Was a Billionaire's Heiress

On the morning of the third day, when Zoey came in with my food, I made myself look weak on purpose, leaning against the headboard and speaking faintly. "Mom, I've thought it over."

"I'll marry him. And I'll give you the PIN."

"But you have to let me take a shower and change into something clean. I can't go meet him looking filthy, can I?"

Zoey's face lit up the moment she heard it. "See, if you'd just done this from the start, none of this would've happened!"

"Fine. I'll get you some clothes. You wash up, and I'll stand guard at the door."

Sure enough, she let her guard down. She opened the bedroom door, handed me a change of clothes, and actually took up her post right outside the bathroom.

I went in and locked the door behind me.

The window was an old-style slider. There was a security grille over it, but the lowest bar had gone loose from years of neglect. I'd noticed it working itself free back when I was cleaning.

I gritted my teeth and threw all my strength into wrenching that bar. The skin on my palms broke into blisters, but in the end I pried it loose.

I climbed out through the window and slid down the drainpipe running along the outer wall.

I twisted my ankle on the landing. The pain sent cold sweat pouring off me, but I didn't dare stop. I got up and ran.

Behind me came Zoey's shrill scream. "Carina's run off! After her, quick!"

I didn't look back. I ran for my life.

Before he died, Wallace had told me that if I ever ran into trouble, I should go to the Righteous Sky Law Firm on Southgate Avenue and find Lawyer Chavez.

By the time I limped to the law firm, it was already noon.

Lawyer Chavez was a man in his fifties, in gold wire-rimmed glasses, with a refined air about him.

When he saw the state I was in, he quickly had his assistant pour me some warm water, then found a first-aid kit and cleaned the cuts on my hands and knees.

He took out a thick document envelope, pushed it across to me, and said quietly, "This has your grandfather's will inside, along with some other things."

"He told me that if you ever came to me, I was to hand all of it over to you."

I drew a deep breath and opened the envelope.

The will was on top, stamped by the notary office.

【All holdings under the name of Wallace Lawrence—eight hundred thousand in savings, one downtown storefront, and one residence in the old part of slated for demolition, with compensation estimated at two million—are to be inherited solely by my granddaughter Carina Pruitt, to the exclusion of any other person.】

Behind it was a thick stack of bank transfer records. Starting twenty-two years ago, on the fifteenth of every month, a sum of fifteen thousand had gone from my grandfather's account into Zoey's.

There were extra gifts for holidays and festivals, and tuition, medical bills, and school uniform fees were all reimbursed separately, entry by entry, every one of them clear. Even the cost of my textbooks in elementary school was on record.

I did a rough tally. Over twenty-two years, it came to more than three million.

I looked at Lawyer Chavez, my voice shaking. "This is..."

He let out a sigh. "This is the child support your grandfather paid for you."

"Carina, your mother, Maggie Lawrence, was Mr. Lawrence's eldest daughter."

"Twenty-two years ago, she got pregnant out of wedlock. When she gave birth to you, she hemorrhaged during a difficult labor, and they couldn't save her."

"Mr. Lawrence was afraid you'd suffer being raised by an old man on his own, so he entrusted you to his second daughter, Zoey—the woman you now call your mother."

"He and Zoey agreed on fifteen thousand a month for your support, to cover your food, clothing, housing, and schooling, with any large expenses reimbursed on top of that."

It was like being struck by lightning. My mind went blank.

So it was true. I wasn't Zoey and Stuart's child at all.

Zoey was my aunt. Stuart was my uncle by marriage.

They hadn't raised me out of kindness. They'd done it because every month they were collecting my grandfather's money.

For twenty-two years, they'd taken the support he gave and fed me leftovers, made me do the chores, and spent it all on Morris and Cicely.

They kept going on about how much money they'd spent raising me, but the truth was they hadn't paid a cent. They'd made a fortune off raising me instead.