Chapter 1

When my birth parents arrived with my brothers, I was still on the floor, cigarette in one hand. Liquor burnt my throat as another customer forced another drink on me.

I barely glanced up, but it was enough. They recoiled, then shifted to block the girl behind them.

She stood there in her white dress, untouched and wide-eyed, not like me.

Poor girl. She didn't know I wasn't some long-lost heiress waiting to be saved.

I was the nightmare they'd left behind, and I'd come for revenge.

*****

Out of the blue, Beth, the manager of the bar, pulled me aside. "Jessie, there are people here saying they're your real family. They want to talk to you," she said.

Before I could even process that, a well-dressed middle-aged woman rushed toward me like she was about to hug me. But then she froze mid-step, her eyes darting to the guest beside me. She backed off awkwardly, flustered.

The men with her just stared at me, their faces full of complicated emotions.

"And you are?" I asked the woman, shooting Beth an annoyed look.

Beth just spread her hands helplessly and mouthed, "They paid too much."

Classic. Money talked.

"Look at me, honey. I'm your real mother," the woman insisted.

Beth stepped forward to gently usher the guests away. I slowly set down my drink and started sizing up the group in front of me.

The woman at the front looked elegant and regal, and I had to admit, there was a definite resemblance between us.

Behind her stood three guys who were clearly related—same strong jawline, and same intense stare.

The youngest one was watching me like I was a threat, guarded and suspicious.

Strangely, he felt oddly familiar to me.

But my attention soon snapped to the girl lingering at the back.

She was straight out of a fairy tale—flowy dress, soft makeup, and head-to-toe designer everything.

The exact opposite of me, in my skimpy outfit and smudged eyeliner.

As for their overprotective vibe? Yeah, I didn't care enough to dwell on it.

I was just about to ask if they had the wrong person when the young guy cut me off.

He began, gesturing to the others, "I'm your real brother, Edward Lovett. These are our parents, and that's our younger brother, Samuel.

"Twenty years ago, at the hospital, your adoptive mother, Linda Quinn, swapped you with her own child out of vanity.

"We had no idea you were gone until recently. We couldn't find you sooner.

"And I'm sorry. This is our fault."

His tone was so genuine that I suddenly felt awkward about snapping back at him.

Then the girl at the back burst into tears. She took a shaky step forward, shooting me this quick, guilty glance before staring at the floor.

Clutching the older man's sleeve, she whispered, "I'm so sorry... If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have suffered all these years.

"But please don't blame Mom and Dad. It's all my fault."

Like flipping a switch, the woman who'd been crying over me seconds ago immediately turned to comfort her.

The other young man moved in front of her like a human shield, glaring at me. "Charlotte, this isn't your fault."

"Charlotte, don't cry," the middle-aged man said, smacking Edward's arm. "Edward just doesn't know how to talk."

Wow, she was really playing the innocent card.

"Impressive, Miss," I said, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't even accepted you all as family yet, and you're already acting like I hate them?

"What, you psychic or something?

"But seriously, those tears? Oscar-worthy.

"You'd make bank at this bar with skills like that."

Charlotte froze, tears halfway down her cheeks, unsure whether to keep crying or not.

Pathetic. Her mom was at least committed to the act.

"Mister, are you really sure about all this? I don't think I've ever given you my DNA," I smiled.

I glanced at the crying girl and continued, "And as for my so-called 'adoptive mom'... She's not the woman you're talking about."

I couldn't care less about the rest of them, but I found myself more interested in Edward than anyone else.

I watched as he threw Charlotte a helpless look, like he wanted to argue but bit his tongue.

When I raised a brow, he gave me an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry. I was in a rush and just asked Beth for one of your hairs instead of waiting for permission."

Beth. That explained why she'd been hovering lately, always picking "gray hairs" off my clothes. She'd been playing double agent this whole time.

And this morning, she'd been full-on acting like nothing was up.

Some best friend.

But now that the truth was out, no point pretending.

I grabbed my coat off the chair, flipped my hair back, and snuffed out my cigarette with practiced ease, eyeing the whole family with a hint of mischief.

I shrugged. "So? You here to take me home or what?

"If you're my real family and you're loaded, guess that means you're stuck with me now."