After Secrets Unveiled, I Became A Wealthy HeiressChapter 1
My family was so poor that even a proper meal felt like a luxury we couldn’t afford.
On my tenth birthday, I was chosen to participate in a reality show as the "contrast group" to a wealthy family, lured by the hope of winning a $100,000 prize at the end of filming.
The live broadcast unfolded like a surreal comedy.
Second Brother, Sandro Evans, quietly pulled out a string of luxury car keys from a drawer. Each key represented a car worth millions.
The audience erupted in disbelief. [This has to be fake! How could her family possibly own those?]
Third Brother, Dallas Evans, strolled by and casually dropped shimmering gold beads into my battered piggy bank.
The viewers scoffed. [Those can’t be real; they must be aluminum!]
Mom was caught squeezing high-end skincare products into plain, unbranded bottles. At the same time, Dad, with all the elegance in the world, used an LV handkerchief to polish an old, creaky chair.
The crowd watching online spiraled into a frenzy. [Come on! What’s real here? Is anything true?]
Just as their skepticism hit a fever pitch, my eldest brother, Lester Evans, stepped into the frame, holding a villa property transfer agreement. The name on it? From the wealthiest district in the city.
The chaos suddenly evaporated into silence.
A hushed murmur rippled through the viewers. [Wait… isn’t that Lester Evans? The CEO of Lunar Lights Entertainment? No way... this can’t be fake. All of this… it’s real!]
***
When I was nine, the village council labeled my family as destitute. The sting of shame was nothing compared to my father’s pride, though he flatly refused any aid, even when he fell gravely ill.
To make matters worse, my three brothers weren’t exactly pillars of support.
Lester, my eldest brother, slogged away as a lowly office worker in a dingy factory, earning a paltry 3,000 dollars a month while being barked at like a servant.
Sandro, my second brother, was a doctor, but his modest 2,500-dollar salary barely kept him afloat. Most of his bills? They ended up on our family’s tab.
Dallas, the youngest of the trio, worked as a chauffeur for some big-shot businessman. His paychecks were as unreliable as spring rain and I often had to bail him out with my tiny savings.