Chapter 6
She had suffered.
She had been hurt.
She had hated, too.
But my chest felt tight, too.
I looked at her and said softly:
"April, do you think I'm happy with the Quinns?" I asked softly.
She sneered:
"What else?
"Living in a villa, wearing custom-made outfits, spending with a black card, and you're acting like you've got it rough?"
I smiled.
"When I was seven, I was forced to stand backstage for three hours at a party because I couldn't recite a speech.
"My feet were rubbed raw by my heels, but I didn't dare take them off.
"My mom always said a Quinn girl should never lose her composure in public."
Victoria's face changed slightly.
I went on:
"When I was nine, I scored a sixty-two on my math test.
"My dad taped the test to the study door so every time I walked in or out, I had to see it and remember how far I was from being perfect."
Charles sat on the couch, his fingers freezing in place.
"When I was eleven, Andrew took me to a youth finance forum.
"The teacher on stage asked me what compound interest was.
"I said it was just copying profits.
"The whole audience laughed.
"When we got home, Andrew made me copy out the entire finance dictionary."
Andrew's Adam's apple bobbed.
"I wasn't..." Andrew said quietly.
I didn't look at him.
"When I was thirteen, I got really into drawing comics.
"I came up with this monster that ate money.
"My mom called it tacky.
"My dad said it was a total waste of time.
"Andrew told me the whole thing was illogical.
"The next day, all my sketchbooks were gone."
Victoria finally broke her silence:
"It was just because finals were coming up," Victoria said.
I nodded.
"Right.
"You all always had your reasons.
"If my grades weren't perfect, no playing allowed.
"If my posture wasn't up to standard, I couldn't even relax.
"If I was slow, that just meant more practice for me.
"If I wasn't good with words, I was told to speak less."
I looked at April.
"You say I lived the life that was meant for you.
"I admit it.
"If I had a say in it, I honestly wish we'd never been switched at birth eighteen years ago.
"You could've grown up with the Quinns, living as their golden girl, the genius heiress everyone adored.
"And I'd be back at the diner, kneading dough, handling cash, and eating sausage rolls.
"You think I snatched away the life of riches that should've been yours.
"But for eighteen years, I've been forced to play a part that never belonged to me."
April froze.
My eyes burned, but this time, I didn't cry.
"You can hate me all you want," I said.
"But don't pretend my life was some kind of luxury.
"For someone like me, living in a house full of geniuses felt like being dragged out for a public execution every single day.
"I never wanted to compete with you for any of this.
"Honestly, I didn't.
"If you want to be the Quinn heiress, it's yours.
"If you want the clothes and jewelry, they're yours.
"If you want my parents and my brother, you can have them too.
"But can you stop stabbing me and then nitpicking how I bleed?"
The silence in the living room was downright chilling.
April's face drained of all color.
For the first time, Victoria's eyes softened when she looked at me.
Charles opened his mouth, but couldn't get a word out.
Andrew spoke softly:
"Sophie..." Andrew said softly.
I took a step back.
"Don't call me that," I said.
"I only came back today to clear the air.
"I'm not here to win anyone's affection.
"I'm not here to cushion your feelings.
"And I'm definitely not here to be your tool, just so you can convince yourselves you're still capable of caring.
"Starting today, I'm going back to the Morgans.
"Don't any of you try to come after me."
With that, I turned and walked out.
This time, no one tried to stop me.
It wasn't until I stepped out of the Quinns' house that the tears finally fell.
It wasn't sadness.
It was pure exhilaration.
So damn good.
Like I'd been holding my breath for eighteen years, and finally, I could let it all out.
Outside, Mr. Morgan was waiting for me on his little electric scooter.
There was a bag of warm sausage rolls sitting in the basket.
When he saw me crying, he got so flustered he almost kicked the scooter over.
"Baby girl, who bullied you?" Mr. Morgan asked.
I wiped my tears and hopped onto the back seat.
"Nobody did," I replied, a little smile tugging at my lips.
"I actually won for once," I added.
Mr. Morgan paused for a second, then straightened up with pride.
"That's my girl!" he said, grinning.
"My girl's a real badass!" he added.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, and the tears came pouring out again.
This time, it was because someone finally told me I did good.
The scooter rolled out into the night.
The night air was cool.
Mr. Morgan called out:
"What do you want to eat?" Mr. Morgan called out.
I choked out:
"Braised pork!" I called back.
"Got it!"
"And fried chicken!"
"Got it!"
"And I want an extra-sweet iced latte!"
Mr. Morgan hesitated for a second.
"Your mom says that much sugar is bad for you," he said.
My heart tightened.
Were all parents the same after all?
Mr. Morgan lowered his voice and gave me a conspiratorial wink.
"We'll sneak it, just between us," he whispered.
I couldn't help but laugh through my tears.
This was the first real high of my life.
It wasn't about putting the true heiress in her place.
It wasn't about making the Quinns regret anything.
It was about finally sitting on the back of my real dad's scooter, shouting out whatever I wanted to eat.