The Unwanted Heiress Returns

Synopsis

I'd been wearing this woven bracelet for 19 years. It was a three-dollar find at a flea market. It'd gotten all frayed at the edges. It felt tight around my wrist, almost digging in. The man sitting across from me claimed to be my father. The gleaming mansion behind him was supposed to be my new home. "Felicity... Felicity Foster," said the man in the suit, Richard Foster, rubbing his hands nervously. "Your grandfather picked the name. It's a name that carries grace and strength. We've been looking for you for so long." The woman next to him, Grace Foster, had perfectly done makeup, but her tears had started to smear her eyeliner. She reached out to hold my hand, then hesitated and pulled back. "You've been through so much, dear," she said softly. I didn't move. My eyes landed on the plate of imported cherries sitting on the table—bright red, juicy, practically glowing. They probably cost more than all the fruit I'd ever seen in my life. "Evelyn... she's waiting inside," Richard said, his voice dropping. "She's your sister. Try to get along." Oh, Evelyn Summers. The one who'd lived my life in this palace for 19 years. I gave a sarcastic smile. My sister? Sure. The heavy carved door opened. The light from the crystal chandelier was blinding. The air smelled faintly sweet, like money. Right in the middle of the living room stood a girl. She wore a white dress, her long hair falling all the way to her waist. She stood tall and graceful, like a swan. She turned around. Her face was beautiful. The kind of perfect you only get from a lifetime of having everything. Her eyes swept over me. From my washed-out sneakers, up my ill-fitting old jeans, and finally stuck on the cheap bracelet around my wrist. Just a hint of disdain flashed in her eyes. Blink and you'd miss it. It was replaced by a practiced smile, perfectly humble and apologetic. "Felicity," Evelyn said softly as she walked over, her voice gentle. "You're finally home." She reached out her hand. Her nails were perfectly shaped, polished a soft, pale pink. I didn't shake it. I just looked down, pulled out the soggy half of a cold sandwich from my pocket, and took a deliberate bite. The bread was stiff. Chewing took work. Evelyn's hand hung awkwardly in the air. Richard and Grace exchanged awkward glances. "Felicity, you must be starving." Grace jumped in to break the tension. "Evelyn had the kitchen prepare a big meal just for you..." "No, thanks," I replied, swallowing the dry, pasty mouthful. "I'm full."