The Impostor Heiress vs. the Real Daughter from the Dirt

Watching them act like this was a matter of life and death, I couldn’t help but laugh. “All I asked was whether she was my foster mother’s daughter. Why are you all so agitated?”

My words left them speechless. They looked at one another, realizing just how over-the-top their reaction had been.

My mother forced an awkward smile. “Michaela, I’ve prepared a room for you. Why don’t we go and see if there’s anything you need?”

“Sister, I bought you a lot of beautiful dresses. I hope you’ll like them,” Lyra added, her eyes still watery.

“Yes, she knew you were coming today, so she went out of her way to pick out some clothes for you. You’re about the same age, I’m sure you’ll like them,” said my mother, as she led me to the room they’d prepared.

The room was adorable, clearly decorated with care. But the only table was a vanity, not a desk. And the closet? It was packed with light pink mini dresses.

Light pink mini dresses… on my sun-darkened, rough skin and dry, yellowish hair? Anywhere I went in those clothes, I’d look absolutely ridiculous.

Lyra had definitely put in some effort.

“My sister picked these out specially for you. Why don’t you try one on?” said Julian, a sly glint in his eyes. Was he just being childish… or was someone pulling his strings?

Seeing me unmoved, Lyra picked up a frilly pink dress and handed it to me. “Sister, pink really suits girls. Give it a try?”

“Yes, why not try one?” Mom said, although her eyes hesitated. She seemed to know those clothes weren’t right for me, but she didn’t want to upset Lyra either.

I shook my head. “These dresses are lovely, but they’re not right for me. Let’s return them.”

“Sister… do you hate me that much?” Lyra’s voice cracked again. “I know you don’t like me being here… I… I…”

I hadn’t expected her to be this skilled at playing the poor little victim. She could squeeze out tears without eye drops. She really missed her calling as an actress.

“Why are you bullying my sister? You just got here and you’re already being mean to her. How can we get along like this?” Julian’s voice was full of resentment.

“Brother, stop… I know I’m not good enough…” Lyra whimpered again.

I stared at them calmly. “So what you’re saying is… I don’t even have the right to say no?”

“You…” Julian faltered, not knowing what to say.

“Enough, enough, that’s enough!” My mother rushed in to ease the tension. She turned to me. “Michaela, of course you can say no. But… Mom just wants to know, why don’t you like the clothes?”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and pant legs, revealing the ugly scars that covered my arms and legs.

When my mother saw them, she froze, tears instantly welling up. “How did this happen… Did they do this to you?” She moved closer, her fingers trembling as they traced the scars. “Does it still hurt?”