The Fake Heiress Is Gone Now They Beg for My ReturnChapter 1
Ten years.
Ten years I spent dragging the Simmons family from obscurity into the upper echelons of society. And in return?
I was nothing but a fake. A counterfeit daughter with no blood ties to any of them.
My "parents," Logan and Katherine, delivered the truth with casual cruelty—like swatting a fly. I was merely a "lucky star" plucked by some fortune teller, adopted solely to borrow my lifespan and inject prosperity into the Simmons lineage.
While I worked myself to the bone, their *real* daughter had been hidden away. Pampered. Shielded from even the slightest hardship.
"Here." My brother, Peter, flicked a stack of bills at me. Five hundred bucks fluttered to the floor like dead leaves. "Take a taxi and get lost. Go back to whatever rural hellhole you came from."
I stooped. Picked up the cash. Turned on my heel without a word.
None of them knew the truth.
The "master" who had altered the Simmons family's fortune all those years ago? My biological father. We were just two people taking what we needed.
My phone buzzed incessantly. Messages from top-tier clients and partners flooded the screen: *Wherever you go, we go.*
A smirk tugged at my lips. I dialed a familiar number. "You were trying to poach me last month? Twenty percent discount on my salary if we sign today."
——
Three months later.
I had thrown myself into work at the Gilbert family's corporation, securing a massive partnership with the city's richest man. The relentless schedule had exacted its toll—my old stomach condition flared up, a dull, gnawing ache that refused to fade no matter how many antacids I swallowed.
I stood in front of the Simmons villa, punching in the familiar code.
The gate didn't budge.
Frowning, I knocked.
Minutes crawled by before the lock finally clicked. Ava, the nanny, opened the door, her expression shifting from surprise to awkward evasion. She stepped aside without a word.
A stranger sat on the sofa, sobbing as if her heart were breaking.
Logan and Katherine flanked her, murmuring soothing words. Even Peter—usually cold as marble—crouched beside her, looking utterly helpless.
The moment Summer Simmons spotted me, her wails intensified.