Chapter 1

After Cora Rankin beat me up so badly that I ended up in the hospital, her parents showed up to force me to sign a settlement agreement.

Harley Rankin, dressed in designer clothes, looked down at me and said, "Cora is the apple of our eye. You should count yourself lucky you're getting 350 thousand dollars from this."

But later, they discovered that I was their real daughter, and Cora was the fake one.

*****

When I woke up in the hospital, my skin was covered with bruises. My face was so swollen, and dried blood crusted over my eyes, so I could barely open them.

And Cora—the one who had put me in this state—was sitting right beside my bed, grinning as she flipped through my diary.

"Georgia," she said, "so you really do have a crush on Maurice. Look at all these love letters you've written. I guess this beating wasn't for nothing."

"Cora." A sharp, serious voice cut her off.

I looked over and saw Harley—dressed in designer clothes—stand up from her chair.

She gave a pointed tilt of her chin in my direction, and right away a sharp-suited man—clearly their lawyer—stepped forward to hand me a document.

"We found out you're an orphan," Harley said, "and you're struggling financially. Sign this settlement, and that 350,000 dollars is all yours."

Cora's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You're getting off easy, you know? A hick like you would never make that much in your whole life. Georgia—aren't you gonna thank us properly?"

She kept up that high-and-mighty, pitying look— as if I were nothing but mud at her feet.

Thanks to her, even breathing now sent sharp pains through my bones.

While I was unconscious, I had vaguely overheard nurses saying, "Such a shame. She's so young, and that beating caused severe pelvic bleeding. She might never be able to have kids."

I wanted to scream and cry like a maniac, but all I could manage was a hoarse whimper.

"Alright, Georgia, let's not drag this out. This is just kid stuff between you two—no need to make a big scene," Laurence, sitting in another chair, finally spoke up.

He stood up and shoved a pen into my hand.

"Cora's the apple of our eye," Laurence said. "Getting this much money from all this? That's a lucky break for you."

I looked up and met his eyes, and for some reason, saw his brow twitch with an unexpected frown.

Honestly, I envied Cora.

She had parents who'd always protect her, no matter what happened. But I had been an orphan since I was little.

I was raised by my grandpa, Julius Myers, who made a living collecting scrap metal and recyclables. All the toys I had as a child were ones he made for me by hand.

The books I owned were all ones Julius had found in the trash and brought back to me.

His old, threadbare woven bag might've looked worn and shabby from the outside, but inside it held the most precious treasures of my childhood.

I studied and pushed myself relentlessly, dreaming that one day I could give Julius a bright, spacious home to live in.

But half a year ago, Julius got sick.

We had no money, so he tried to tough it out alone, hiding how bad it was from me.

So many times, I saw him hunched over the kitchen counter, unable to straighten up from the pain, yet he still insisted on going out to work early and coming back late.

One rainy day, Julius made dinner, then lay down on the bed. He said his stomach hurt, that he wanted to rest, and told me to eat first.

But that nap—he never woke up from it.

Cora's life was filled with painting lessons, flower arranging, and horseback riding. For people like us, just surviving required every ounce of strength we had.

I suddenly realized how unfair the world was.

Living—what was the point of it, anyway?

"My parents are talking to you," Cora snapped. "Are you gonna sign it or not?"

To them, 350 thousand dollars was more than enough to buy off my pride—and my life.

And that was the truth. In front of these people with money, I was nothing less than dirt for them to trample on.

"Fine," I said, my voice hoarse.