Chapter 1

I'm the real heiress.

But when the Goodwin family brought me home, my birth mother sneered at how "tacky" I was.

The fake heiress, Charlotte Goodwin, tried to shame me, spouting lies that I'd raised scruffy horses on the plains, even picking up manure to scrape by.

Everyone snickered, calling me low and common.

They had no idea about my fame.

Every horse thundering across the Northtown Prairie—all thousand leagues of it—answers to my name.

*****

When the Goodwin family's car was parked outside the ranch, I was chasing Stormchaser, my dad's newly bred Silverblood horse, across the field.

I finally got it to stop, only to hear a woman's voice, full of contempt.

"Giving up school to shovel horse manure? What can I expect her to know?" the woman snapped.

I calmed Stormchaser down and then turned to see a man and two women standing outside the racetrack, their faces full of disdain.

I shot a glance at the license plate—another one, from the capital.

There'd been a bunch of those rolling in lately, all trying to buy horses, but my dad turned them all away.

The woman blatantly pointed at me and said to the shy girl clinging to her side, "Charlotte, thank goodness you grew up with me. If you'd ended up like her, it would break my heart."

I dusted my clothes and headed their way.

But before I could get close, the woman cut me off, and the girl shrank back.

"Stay right there! Don't come any closer! Can't you smell the horse manure on you?" she barked.

I then stopped, didn't take another step.

"Sorry, folks, but this racetrack doesn't allow visitors. If you're here to buy a horse..."

Before I could finish, the woman interrupted.

"You're Tessa Wynn? From now on, you're Tessa Goodwin. Consider it a blessing to be sisters with Charlotte. The Goodwin family has rules, so drop your rustic, shabby vibe and don't get any funny ideas!"

The young man beside her drew the teary-eyed Charlotte into his arms, his glare sharp as daggers as he snapped at me.

He snapped, "Don't dream of taking Charlotte's place!"

Then, turning to Charlotte, he said, "Charlotte, don't be afraid. I will always protect you and won't let outsiders hurt you."

He put extra emphasis on the word "outsiders," making me glance at the license plate again.

Sure enough, they were from the Goodwin family, where my so-called birth parents belong.

Three months had passed since they'd learned Charlotte and I had been switched at birth, yet they'd only bothered to show up now.

I grinned and said, "Mrs. Margaret Goodwin, huh? I didn't realize it took three whole months to drive here from the capital."

Margaret choked on my words and let out a cold snort. "Rude and ill-mannered! I should have known you'd never measure up to Charlotte!"

Charlotte slipped from Ethan's arms—he was my own brother—and her eyes glistened with tears as she said, "Tessa, you shouldn't speak to Mom that way..."

I lifted a hand to cut her off. "Whoa, there, my horses can't handle Hollywood-style family drama—they'd just keel over."

Charlotte's tears stopped flowing.

I slid into the car without hesitation and called out, "What are you waiting for? Let's go."

They looked genuinely surprised by my ready agreement.

Margaret sneered, "So you do know how to sponge off others, huh? If you're that eager to join the Goodwin family, you'd better follow our rules."

I ignored her and shot a message to my dad.

[Hey, old man, I'm heading out. Watch the horses.]

He texted back in a flash: [Got it, girl. Don't go overboard, okay?]

I sent him an OK emoji.

Hold back? I wouldn't have the first clue how.

The first time I laid eyes on Charlotte, I knew she was a total mean girl.

Sure enough, the second I stepped into the mansion, she started giving me grief right away.

The Goodwins threw a huge party, supposedly to tout my homecoming.

But let's be real. It was just so Charlotte could upstage me in front of everyone.

Her squad of mean girls circled around me, firing off questions like I was some sideshow attraction.

One of them, smirking, asked, "So, Tessa, what do your adoptive parents actually do for a living?"

Charlotte put on her most shocked expression. "Wait, is it okay to talk about that?"

But for all her pretense, she had no intention of stopping. "Her foster dad just keeps a few scruffy horses out on the prairie. He even shovels horse manure to get by."

As soon as Charlotte finished, everyone burst out laughing.

One girl jeered, "Why don't we just call her Stable Girl? Hahaha!"

Another chimed in, "Nah, Manure Girl fits her way better!"

While everyone cackled, Charlotte stepped in, feigning sweetness. "Girls, don't tease my sister, okay? She'll get upset. Besides, she raises horses, and we do equestrian for the national competition—so I guess that makes us kind of connected, right?"

The loudest laugher gushed, "Charlotte, you're way too nice. Seriously, what do we have in common with her? Fancy horses versus horse crap? Hahaha!"

Funny thing is, I knew that girl.

Not long ago, she and her dad had banged on our door, begging my dad for a horse for the competition. They pestered him nonstop until he got so fed up, he chased them off with a broom.