After the True Heiress Return, the Scheming Fake Daughter Cried

My temper flared instantly.

Damn it—insult me all you want, but insult my best friend? Absolutely not!

"Brother," I said sweetly, "I get that you're trying to play the overprotective hero, but could you at least think before you open that mouth of yours?"

"You're saying Carmela has no manners? Who lost her back then, huh? You did! You're the reason she grew up in an orphanage, and you dare call her uneducated?"

"She's the real daughter of this house—her identity was stolen by your precious little thief. Tell me, where's the logic in that?"

"Honestly, the way you talk, it's like your intestines connect directly to your brain. Even a dung beetle would need to pop open your skull just to check the flavor!"

The room went dead silent.

Only my best friend squeezed my hand, eyes glistening. "Bestie, I love you!"

Kian's face turned a dangerous shade of blue. His voice dropped, shaking with anger.

"You—you dared to insult me?!"

"So what if I did?" I shot back. "I'm not done—I'll insult her too!"

I planted my hands on my hips and turned to glare at Trisha. "And you—stop pretending you're some precious gem. Even a trash bag couldn't contain all that fake sincerity you're spilling."

"Didn't you say you were too unwell to get out of bed? Funny—when you were about to hang yourself just now, you looked full of energy!"

"Let me guess—the ‘sickness' came the moment Carmela came home? You just couldn't stand not being the only little princess anymore, right?"

My words hit her squarely in the heart. She tried to argue, but I cut her off mercilessly.

"Fake sickness, fake suicide, fake tears—what's next? You think my best friend asked you to ‘repent'? You're both daughters of this family, so why are you the only one acting like you've got brain damage?"

Her face turned pale as paper. "Y-you—you—"

I laughed coldly. "You what, you? Why are you stuttering? Go see a doctor, and if your brain's malfunctioning, try reading a book!"

Unable to fight back, she reverted to her favorite act—the helpless, delicate flower routine.

"Carmela, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. I was just scared you'd hate me."

Then she looked at me pitifully. "Yanna, if you want to scold someone, scold me. Just don't take it out on my brother and parents."

There it was again. Same act, zero creativity.

I was too lazy to keep sparring with her, so I turned to the stunned Lambert couple. "I heard we'll be in the same class as our dear sister?"

They both nodded quickly.

"Perfect," I smiled. "We'll be sure to take good care of her. By the way, which room will be ours?"

Aunt Laura hurried to lead us upstairs.

Trisha followed, red-eyed and trembling, putting on another generous act as she opened a pink, frilly room.

"Sister, if you don't mind... you can have this one. It's actually yours to begin with..."

Before we could respond, Kian rushed forward again, blocking the doorway like a guard dog.

"This is Mom's gift to my sister! Country bumpkins like you don't deserve a princess room!"

I could feel my temper spike again, but Aunt Laura caught my glare and quickly intervened, frowning at her son.

"Carmela, you can pick any room you like. Think of it as our way of making up for lost time."

My best friend glanced at the nauseatingly pink decor, wrinkled her nose, then turned toward a much larger, brighter bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Then we'll take that one! It's big enough for me and Yanna!"

Kian's jaw dropped. "You—you've got to be kidding! That's our parents' room!"

I flashed a sunny smile at Aunt Laura.

"Mom, you did say any room, right? You're not taking that back now, are you?"

Her mouth twitched, but after a moment, she nodded helplessly.

"Good! We've been in the car all day—we're exhausted. You and Dad should rest early too!"

And before anyone could respond, I grabbed my friend, shut the door with a satisfying bang, and left the whole family frozen in place.

From that day on, our new life officially began.

For the next week, Carmela and I went on a glorious shopping spree.

After eight years of scrimping and suffering, it felt heavenly to finally buy whatever we wanted without looking at price tags, without hesitation, just enjoying retail therapy.