Chapter 1

On the first day I was brought back to the family, the fake heiress threw herself into my mother's arms and sobbed that she'd be happy to move into the servants' quarters.

Everyone in the room turned to look at me, their expressions practically shouting that this country girl was every bit as petty as they'd expected.

I threw myself down onto the cold marble floor and let out a wail that put the fake heiress to shame.

"Seriously? I just walked in the door, and you're already trying to make me the evil sister?

"Is this how the Evans family does a reunion? I haven't even had a chance to catch my breath, and you've already got a maid's room ready for me. What a warm welcome."

My outburst sucked every last sound out of the living room.

Sophia Evans was still clinging to my mother, her face glistening with delicate tears.

Meanwhile, I was sprawled on the floor, crying like my whole world had just collapsed.

Since she wanted to play the pitiful victim, I'd steal the spotlight right out from under her. If she wanted to act fragile, I'd make her look like the tyrant she really was.

They all thought that just because I grew up in some nowhere town, I was some naive little thing they could push around.

But what they didn't know was that I learned to read people in the wet market. And the best actors I ever saw were the deadbeats who owed money and still had the nerve to blame everyone else.

The day the Evans family brought me back, they thought they'd knock me down a peg or two right from the start.

What they didn't realize was that they weren't getting a meek little pushover.

They were getting a loose cannon, the kind who blows up at the slightest provocation and then, once the dust settles, files her own police report, gathers her own evidence, and flips the table on her way out.

*****

My birth mother, Mary Evans, was the first to recover.

She hurried over and reached for my arm, trying to pull me to my feet while keeping her voice low. "Charlotte, please get up. Everyone's watching."

I turned on the waterworks without missing a beat and held on to her hand as I sobbed even louder. "I don't want to embarrass myself either, Mom, but I'm terrified. I just walked through the door, and Sophia is already crying and telling me to move into the servants' quarters.

"She acts like she's treating me like a sister, but deep down, she's already convinced I'm here to fight for the family fortune. I'm your real daughter, and I'm being treated like a threat before I've even had a chance to sit down. How could I not be scared?"

Sophia's face went stiff the second I finished. She probably never thought I'd have the nerve to say the words "fight for the family fortune" right in front of the elders.

My birth father, Richard Evans, fixed me with a hard stare. "That's enough. It's your first day home. What's all this drama about?"

I wiped my eyes and looked up at him, my face still blotchy from crying. "So let me get this straight. I cry for two seconds, and you tell me I'm making a scene. She sheds a single tear, and you're ready to fall apart.

"So what exactly am I supposed to do? Smile and kindly step aside so she can have my place?"

Sophia bit her lip, tears clinging to her lashes, looking absolutely wounded. "Charlotte, I honestly didn't mean it like that. I was just worried you wouldn't like me."

I answered before she could even finish, "You were so worried I wouldn't like you that you decided to make me look like the one who can't stand having you around. Sophia, I have to hand it to you. That's pretty quick thinking."

The air in the room turned ice cold in an instant.

My grandfather, Victor Evans, had been sitting silently at the head of the table throughout the entire scene, but now he finally set down his coffee cup.

"That's enough crying from both of you." The moment he spoke, the whole room fell silent.

Victor let his gaze travel from me to Sophia, and then he turned to the butler. "Have the rooms been arranged?"

The butler was already breaking into a sweat. "We have the east-facing guest room on the second floor prepared for Ms. Charlotte Evans."

I looked up at him. "A guest room?"

Mary rushed to explain. "It all happened so suddenly, Charlotte. We haven't had a chance to finish getting the master bedroom ready."

I nodded and gave her a smile. "Right. So let me get this straight. The daughter you just brought home gets a guest room, and the daughter you raised for eighteen years gets the princess suite. That seems perfectly fair."

Richard frowned at me. "Do you have to make a comment about absolutely everything?"

"So I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut while you hand me off to the guest room like some distant relative?" I pushed myself up off the floor, brushed off my pants, and said, "Fine. I won't take the guest room. I'll take Sophia's room instead."

Sophia's face went pale. "Charlotte, that's the room I've lived in since I was a little girl."

"The room you've lived in since you were a little girl?" I repeated, turning to face her with the most pleasant smile I could manage. "That's actually perfect. You've lived there for eighteen years in my place, so me borrowing it for a few days doesn't seem unreasonable at all, does it?"

Then I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight up the stairs, leaving a complete disaster behind me.

Richard was shouting at me to stop. Mary was begging me to calm down, and Sophia came running after me in tears, saying she would gladly give up the room.

I didn't even turn around.

Back when I was with the Foster family, I woke up every single morning to a long list of chores and slept in a tiny shack that let the wind whistle right through the walls.

Now that I was finally in my own family's house, they thought they could stick me in some guest room and call it a day? They had another thing coming.

*****

At dinner, Sophia glided over with a bowl of sweet soup and set it down in front of me with a practiced gentleness.

She said, "Charlotte, I made this mango coconut milk myself. You should try it."

I looked at that golden bowl, and my expression went cold.

I have been allergic to mangoes since I was a child, a fact that only Mary had learned that afternoon when she accompanied me to get my medical exam done.

And yet here was Sophia, beaming as she placed that bowl right under my nose.

I lifted my gaze and met her wide, innocent eyes.

She was testing the waters, trying to figure out just how easy it would be to push around the biological daughter.

So I picked up the spoon, scooped up a bite, and put it straight into my mouth.

The entire table went still.

Three minutes later, my throat started to tighten, and every breath became a little harder to take.

I slammed the bowl down on the table and managed a hoarse shout. "Help! Someone is trying to make sure I don't make it through my first night home!"

The color drained from Sophia's face in an instant.