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I was living in the countryside when I suddenly discovered I was the long-lost heiress of the Hart Family. When I was hauled back, bound hand and foot, Vivian Hart—the fake heiress—was snuggled up in her parents' arms, quietly sobbing. My father said coldly, "Your sister ruined the painting the Prince from the Kingston Family gave to his own sister. You're going to take responsibility for her mistake." Vivian, her eyes red from crying, said, "Don't worry, sis. If something happens to you, I'll be a good daughter to Mom and Dad for you." And there was my so-called fiancé, staring at me with pure disgust. "Just as I thought, a wild country bumpkin, looking all shabby," he sneered. "Viv is too delicate for this kind of thing. If you dare to refuse, I'll make sure you pay for it," he threatened. 'Poor? Seriously?' I thought, completely taken aback. I glanced down at my designer outfit, utterly confused. All I did was play in the dirt for a bit—how does that make me "poor"?' I thought, rolling my eyes. 'Is the Prince really as ruthless as everyone says?' I wondered. I just accidentally messed up the painting he gave me. Is it really necessary to tie me up and make me kneel to apologize?' I thought, feeling ridiculous.