Chapter 1

Two months after my billionaire biological parents brought me back from the sticks, Tiffany, the adopted heiress, decided it was time to make her move.

She stood in the middle of the living room in tears, clutching a ruined haute couture gown slashed to ribbons.

"Aria, I know I’m just adopted. I could never compare to you," she sobbed. "If you hate me, you can hit me or yell at me. But why did you have to destroy the birthday gift Mom and Dad got for me?"

Dad, Mom, and Julian immediately looked at her with heartbroken eyes before turning their glares on me, furious.

Thinking fast, I threw myself forward, dropped to my knees in front of Tiffany, and wrapped my arms around her legs.

"Tiffany, I know you grew up with Mom and Dad! You've had all their love, and you don’t want an outsider like me intruding on your life!" I wailed, tears streaming down my face.

"I’m just an uncultured girl from the trailer park. How could I ever compete with you? I’ll take the blame for framing me if you want, but please, throw away the shears you used to cut up the dress, okay? I bruise so easily! I’ll do whatever you say, just please don't hurt me anymore!"

Mom and Dad instantly noticed the fresh, bleeding cut on my arm. Seconds later, a search of Tiffany’s room uncovered the exact shears—still stained with tiny flecks of blood.

Listening to our parents' disappointed sighs, Tiffany froze. Her eyes went wide as she stammered, "I didn’t do it! This psycho is framing me!"

The shears were literally found inside Tiffany’s private suite.

As the family’s golden child, Tiffany had biometric locks on her bedroom door. Nobody could slip inside without her knowing.

And those shears clearly had droplets of blood on the blade.

Before my tears could dry, I struck while the iron was hot. "Dad, Mom, please don’t be mad at Tiffany. I’m happy to give her my dress. As long as she accepts me, taking a little pain doesn't matter. Besides, my dress was just a hand-me-down she didn't want anyway, so it’ll definitely fit her. I can just wear my old clothes to the gala tonight."

Dad and Mom looked at me, a flicker of guilt crossing their faces.

"Aria, you’re such a good girl," Mom murmured.

Just a good girl. That was it.

Dad turned to Tiffany, his voice stern. "Tiffany, we have spoiled you rotten! Apologize to Aria right now, and don't you dare lay a hand on her again. Do you hear me?"

Tiffany clenched her fists, aggrieved. "Dad, Mom, I swear I didn’t hurt Aria! She cut her own arm!"

As soon as her voice rose, I shrank back in pure terror, ducking my head. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I said the wrong thing! Tiffany didn't hurt me—"

Dad cleared his throat. "Tiffany, if you didn’t do it, whose blood is on those shears? We understand you're feeling insecure, but you will always be our beloved daughter. Stop acting out like this. A designer dress is just money; it doesn’t matter that it’s ruined. Go put on Aria’s gown now so we aren't late for the gala."

Upstairs in the suite, Mom personally stripped the designer gown off my body and helped Tiffany zip it up.

Meanwhile, I was left to put on my faded, frayed flannel shirt.

Wait a second.

Didn't I just win this round of petty warfare? How did the villain who tried to frame me end up wearing the glamorous couture while I looked like a stray?

When I walked downstairs, Julian had just arrived from the Sterling Group headquarters.

The moment he saw my ragged clothes, his expression darkened. "Didn't Tiffany give you some of her old clothes? Who are you trying to embarrass by dressing like a hobo?"

Mom and Dad quickly explained what had happened.

Julian’s gaze remained icy. "Tiffany was out of line, but don't hold a petty grudge over it, Aria. If you hadn't suddenly shown up, Tiffany never would've acted out of fear of losing our love."

Figures.

How could a single victory erase ten years of unconditional devotion?

Dad and Mom probably felt the exact same way—they just weren't as blunt as Julian.

Keep calm. The war has only just begun.

Right then, Pumpkin, the massive orange tomcat of the estate, hopped into my lap.

"Meow." "Tiffany is digging up dirt on your past. She wants to ruin you at the gala tonight."

"Meow." "Don't worry, I’ve got dirt on her too."

"Meow." "When are you taking me back to the countryside so I can catch real fish...?"

Thirty minutes ago, Tiffany had been losing her mind.

She couldn’t figure out how I knew about the shears, or why there was blood on them.

She had swept her entire suite with a bug detector, shrieking, "No cameras! The security system wasn’t bypassed! How the hell did she pull this off? Did a ghost do it?!"

Meanwhile, Pumpkin had been lounging nearby, licking his paw and rolling his eyes at her.

Surprise, fake heiress.

I can talk to cats.