The Impostor Heiress vs. the Real Daughter from the Dirt

I nodded slowly, watching my mother’s sincere expression. Her concern brought a strange warmth to my chest.

“Don’t worry. Mom will find the best specialists to help remove these scars.” She gently pulled down my sleeves again. “And I’ll buy you new clothes—ones you really like.”

My brother, Julian, looked shocked. The sight of those harsh scars had clearly shaken him. He stammered, “I… I didn’t know you had… I really didn’t know…”

Behind him, Lyra stood silently. Her eyes darkened, a shadow of hatred flickering beneath them.

Because of the scars, our parents soon learned about the abuse I had suffered growing up. The next day, they arranged for a top-tier medical team to examine me and create a treatment plan.

When the doctors told us most of the scars could be treated and faded over time, my mother finally relaxed. The constant tension on her face softened.

“My daughter… I never imagined you had endured such cruelty,” she whispered, her eyes brimming again.

I wasn’t used to being treated so gently. It made me feel… strange. But I still tried to reassure her. “This wasn’t your fault, Mother. You didn’t do this.”

After my mother left, Lyra showed up.

“What’s the point of healing those scars?” she sneered. “You’re still just a country bumpkin. Do you really think you can enter high society? With your looks, what rich young man would ever look at you?” She tossed her hair, letting her diamond necklace catch the light.

So, she liked drama and competition too. Pity I wasn’t interested.

“What’s the point of dressing up so well?” I replied coolly. “You’re still just an imposter.”

Bullseye.

Her face fell instantly and just like that, my mood improved.

Lyra scoffed, eyes flashing with venom. “So what if I’m not the real daughter? I’ll prove to you that they’re on my side. Oh, by the way, tomorrow is my birthday. Do you know what they’re giving me? Take a guess.”

I didn’t feel like answering her. But I was curious.

The maids had mentioned that the Sterling Family once said they would give Lyra 3% of the company’s shares on her 18th birthday.

Ever since learning I was Sterling, I had been investigating them. The Sterling Group was booming. Their stock price was only going to rise.

That kind of wealth? That was real.

As for the baby swap, I didn’t blame Lyra. It was her mother who had orchestrated it. If Lyra wanted to continue living her lavish life through their affection, fine.

But if she wanted to compete with me for the inheritance?

Then she had better prepare for war.

To me, money meant survival. Because I earned money, my foster family stopped beating me, after all, if I got hurt, I couldn’t work. Because I won scholarships, they reluctantly let me stay in school. Because I sold goods at the market and saved money for my foster mother’s son’s tuition, they didn’t force me to marry an old bachelor for a dowry.

Money saved me once.

It will save me again.