Chapter 3

For a split second, relief washed over Vanessa's face. She was about to shoot me a look of pure triumph.

But Richard cut her off, his voice cold and final. "There is only one 'Miss Carter' in this house, and that is my daughter, Emily. Vanessa has no blood relation to me whatsoever. She does not hold that title."

Vanessa's face went ghostly pale.

"Dad..." Vanessa looked at Richard, her voice shaking as she tried to get the words out.

But Richard shot up like a cat with its tail stepped on, blurting out, "Don't call me Dad. I only have one daughter, and that's Emily."

He threw me a nervous look, looking all innocent. It seemed he really didn't want me to get him wrong.

Just then, the butler snapped out of his daze.

He shot a sharp look at the maids and barked, "What are you all standing around for? Didn't you hear Mr. Carter? Get moving and pack up Vanessa's stuff."

The maids sprang into action.

The Carter staff was nothing if not efficient. In under five minutes, two large bags were hauled down the stairs and unceremoniously dropped at Vanessa's feet.

Then the butler politely said, "Vanessa, please."

The demotion from "Miss Carter" to just "Vanessa" was deafening.

She stood there, stunned and seething, throwing desperate looks at Richard, who pointedly turned away.

When she turned to her friends for backup, they suddenly found the floor and ceiling fascinating, avoiding her gaze entirely.

That was when Vanessa finally lost all hope.

She finally shot me a look of pure venom before reluctantly grabbing her bags and dragging herself out the door.

Her hangers-on didn't waste a second, mumbling quick excuses and practically tripping over each other to flee the scene.

Once all the chaos cleared out, Richard rushed over, looking like a kid showing off his prized possessions as he had a dozen boxes carried into the room.

"Emily, I brought you some gifts. I didn't know what you'd like, so I ended up buying a little bit of everything I laid eyes on. See if anything speaks to you," he said.

I stared at the mountain of boxes in front of me, completely speechless.

Instead of tearing into the presents, I looked up at Richard and asked the question that had been eating at me: "Why do you trust me so much?"

I really wanted to know.

Sure, I was his daughter, but we'd literally just met.

Meanwhile, Vanessa was the one he'd raised.

So why had he taken my side so quickly when she tried to blame me? Why hadn't he believed her?

Richard was taken aback by my question, and then just gave a wry smile.

"Emily," he said, putting down the sports car keys he was about to hand me, "do I look like a fool?"

I didn't get why Richard suddenly asked that, but I just shook my head right away.

Before I came here, I'd done my homework on Richard. He was a self-made financial genius—sharp, ruthless, and never one to be underestimated.

If he was a fool, then honestly, most people in the world wouldn't stand a chance.

He chuckled softly, "Well, then, you don't think I've raised Vanessa all these years without figuring out exactly who she is, do you?"

Then he sighed, "I've always known what she was really like. I tried to guide her, but nothing ever stuck. And I felt I had no choice but to protect her anyway.

"But now that I know she's not my real daughter, I don't have to put up with her anymore."

I caught on right away.

Richard was nobody's fool. He'd watched Vanessa grow up—there's no way he couldn't see through all her little games.

Well, all those stories about fake heiresses fooling everyone are pretty much nonsense.

If those rich parents were really that easy to trick, how could they ever keep a family empire going?

I have to admit, I felt pretty satisfied with how things turned out.

Good brains ran in the family.

With a mind like mine, there was no way I'd end up with a clueless dad.

It looked like life was about to get a whole lot easier.

I was riding pretty high until just a few days later, when trouble found me again.

I'd just pulled an all-nighter at school, finishing a paper, and all I could think about was going home to crash. But as soon as I stepped near the lab building, a flashy blue Lamborghini came roaring straight toward me like I was its target.

It screeched to a halt right in front of me.

The door swung open, and a young guy stepped out.

He marched right up to me, not even a hello, and demanded, "Are you Emily Carter?"