In the year we were at our absolute poorest, my mom was welcomed back into a billionaire family. I’ve always been obsessed with novels, especially the "switched at birth" kind. I used to lose myself in fantasies about the stories I read. If only I were the real heiress, swapped at birth, I'd think. Then I'd have so much money. I wanted to buy my mom a huge mansion and hire five or six male models to wait on her hand and foot. I never dreamed it would actually happen. Except, the long-lost heiress wasn't me. It was my mom. And I? I was just your average, run-of-the-mill, third-generation trust fund kid. 1 My life just got a major upgrade, all thanks to Mom! Before I could even process this insane new reality, we were being whisked away to the Vance family estate. The villa was enormous, complete with sprawling gardens and a fountain that looked like it belonged in front of a palace. Holy crap, I thought, my mind reeling. Even after devouring thousands of "switched at birth" stories, I could never have imagined this level of opulence. It turns out poverty really does limit your imagination. I stuck close to my mom, my eyes darting around, taking it all in. As the real heiress, lost for thirty-four years, she was a wreck. The sudden revelation of her true identity had sent her on an emotional rollercoaster, and she was understandably nervous. I squeezed her hand, a silent promise that I was right here with her. "Janie, what do you think?" Mom whispered, tugging at her worn cotton coat. "Is this okay?" The coat was old, and if you got close enough, you could smell the faint, musty scent of being stored in a wooden chest for too long. But it was the best, and only, decent piece of clothing she owned. She only ever wore it for New Year's. Still, standing in front of this three-story mansion, we looked completely out of place. "You look beautiful, Mom," I said, and I meant it. In my eyes, she was the most beautiful person in the world. 2 I kept a bright smile plastered on my face, but inside, I was already composing a funeral dirge. Life in a wealthy family was never easy. The novels had taught me that much, with their brutal, predictable plots. The real heiress returns home only to face a family that favors the fake one, and a conniving, manipulative imposter who makes her life hell. But not on my watch. I wouldn't let my mom suffer that fate. As we stepped inside, a group of people came to greet us. I was about to yell, "Where's my sword?" when I got a good look at them. There was Mr. and Mrs. Vance, both in their fifties. A beautiful, stylishly dressed young woman. And her ten-year-old daughter… I was stumped. Surely that little brat, younger than me, couldn't be the cuckoo in the nest? While I was lost in thought, Mrs. Vance and my mom were already crying and hugging. After a round of tearful, heartfelt introductions, I quickly got the lay of the land. The real heiress had returned too late. The story was already over. The fake heiress had taken the money, gotten married, and had a kid. Everything was settled. What the hell? I looked around, brandishing my imaginary sword, completely at a loss. My mom was sobbing her heart out in Mrs. Vance’s arms, crying "Momma" over and over again. I lowered my weapon. None of it mattered anymore. My mom had lived such a hard life. Her adoptive parents favored their son, forcing her to drop out of school to work and support the family. Even then, they beat her. When she was old enough, they tricked her into marrying a man just to get the bride price to pay for their son's wedding. She had no power to fight her fate. Lying on her tiny bed in a makeshift room next to the toilet, she could only try to convince herself: Maybe life will be better after I get married. But life is cruel. The universe never did my mom any favors. She just went from one hell to another. After the wedding, my father quickly showed his true colors. He was an alcoholic and a gambling addict. Whenever he lost money and had too much to drink, he'd come home and take it out on my mom, his fists flying. For my sake, to give me a "complete" family, she endured it all, wiping away her tears in secret. Until the day his fists started flying at me. That was the day she finally found the strength to grab me and run, leaving that house and him behind forever. She didn't want me to become the second version of her. After leaving my dad, things were even harder. A single woman with no education and no real skills, she struggled to raise me on her own. She worked three jobs a day, from dawn till dusk, doing the dirtiest, most grueling work imaginable. Eventually, she saved up enough to open a small food stall selling steamed buns near my school. But our lives didn't get much better. Despite the poverty, she never let me feel deprived. She did everything in her power to give me a happy childhood. "Janie," she'd always say, "as long as Mom's here, you don't have to worry about a thing." But now, things were different. She had found her mother, her family. She finally had a place where she could cry without shame, a shield against the world's cruelty. More than anyone, I knew how deeply she craved the warmth of a real family. 3 To celebrate our reunion, the Vances had prepared a lavish feast. There were so many dishes I'd never even seen before. Mr. and Mrs. Vance sat my mom down, and I squeezed in beside her. Mrs. Vance kept piling food onto my mom's plate, asking her about her life with deep concern. Just as they were about to start crying again, Mr. Vance changed the subject. "You must be Janie," he said, his voice warm. "From now on, this is your home too. We're your grandparents. Don't you think it's time you started calling us that? Are you shy, Janie? Why don't you say hello to your grandpa and grandma?" Suddenly being the center of attention, my mind went blank. I had come here ready to play the role of my mom's vicious sidekick, and I hadn't switched back to "sweet granddaughter" mode yet. The others chimed in, teasing me gently, and for a moment, the atmosphere at the table was warm and cheerful. Clatter! Across the table, the ten-year-old girl threw her chopsticks down. She was the fake heiress's daughter, Chloe Grant. "They're my grandparents, not yours!" she wailed. "You're just a country bumpkin! A hillbilly! You don't belong in our house!" The table fell silent. My mom instinctively pulled me behind her, her own face flushing with shame. I glanced over at the fake heiress, a woman named Dahlia Vance, who was sitting right there, saying nothing. Her silence was a tacit approval of her daughter's outburst. Mrs. Vance frowned. "Chloe, you can't talk to your cousin like that. Janie is our family now. She'll be living here with us." At that, the little girl cried even harder. "She's not my family! Now that she's here, Grandma and Grandpa won't love me and Mommy anymore! You never used to scold me, Grandma! She's a bad person! Her mom is a bad person too!" She turned to her mother, her voice thick with tears. "Mommy, are Grandpa and Grandma going to abandon us? But I don't want to leave them! They love me the most!" Dahlia pulled the girl into a tight hug, then shot a cold, hard glare in our direction. "Mom, don't forget what you promised me before she came back! You said nothing in this house would change because of her. It's only her first day, and you're already letting Chloe be bullied! I bet in a few days, you and Dad will be thinking about redividing the family assets!" A spoiled little brat and an arrogant mother. The fake heiress wasn't even trying to hide her true colors. With the family fortune already in her hands and the powerful Grant family backing her, she had no need to play the victim to win affection. Mr. Vance slammed his hand on the table. "Dahlia, what nonsense are you spouting!" But Mrs. Vance's heart softened. She opened her mouth to scold Dahlia several times but couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she turned to my mom. "Evelyn," she said, using my mom's real name, "don't take Dahlia's words to heart. It's my fault. But I promise, I will make up for all the years you've lost." The subtext was clear: compensation, yes. Redividing the inheritance? Don't even think about it. She coaxed softly, "I'll have Mrs. Gable get a guest room ready. You and Janie can stay here tonight." And just like that, I understood. The warmth from before was a mirage. In this house, everything belonged to the fake heiress, Dahlia. Even her parents' hearts were tilted in her favor. Ugh. It's 2025, and these clichés are still alive and well. 4 So we moved into the Vance estate. The "temporary guest room" was still bigger than our entire tiny apartment. I lay on the soft, plush mattress, fuming until three in the morning. In the moonlight streaming through the window, my mom's sleeping face was peaceful and beautiful, which only made the Vances seem more sinister in comparison. Furious, I decided to do what I always do to calm down: read. I opened my massive digital library of "switched at birth" novels. I devoured them, one after another, with a vengeance. After Rebirth, I Destroyed the Fake Heiress's Family. The Real Heiress's Revenge: Reading Minds and Exposing the Fake. After Becoming the Real Heiress, My Whole Family Burned. And on and on, for what felt like a hundred books. Finally, I mentally screamed into the void: The real heiress has returned, but the story is already over! The manipulative bitch is married with a kid and has all the money! What do I do? HELP! URGENT! The books had no answers. This problem was too advanced. I was out of my depth. Suddenly, my throat was parched. I crept out of the room to get some water. And there she was. Chloe, dressed in a white nightgown, looking like a ghost. She was holding a glass of water, as if she'd been waiting for me. "Cousin," she began, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "why did you have to come back? Why are you trying to steal my grandparents from me?" Her face twisted into an ugly mask. "They're my grandparents! It would have been better if you and your mother had just died out there! Why did you have to come back? Go die! Both of you, just go die!" Before I could even react, she splashed the water in her own face, threw herself backwards onto the floor, and the glass shattered into a million pieces. Her small, pale hand landed right on the shards, and a deep gash opened up. Bright red blood dripped onto the white fragments, staining them crimson. In an instant, the entire villa lit up, and the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drum against my ribs. The world went silent, until Chloe, lying on the floor, started screaming at me. "Janie, Mommy and I didn't mean to take your things! Please don't hit me! I'll give you whatever you want! You can have everything, just please don't make us leave! Mommy loves Grandpa and Grandma so much, and I do too…" She lay there in Dahlia's arms, her face pale, her bleeding hand still clutching Mrs. Vance's sleeve. No one would ever believe a ten-year-old could lie like that. Wow. Just… wow. This family's talent for manipulation wasn't just genetic; it was getting stronger with each generation. This kid was a prodigy. "Janie…" I turned. My mom was standing there, her face ashen, her body swaying as if she were about to collapse. 5 Chloe was carried off to have her wound treated. The family sat in the living room, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Dahlia was the first to speak, her voice shaking with rage. "I never thought a child could be so vicious at such a young age!" "Mom, Chloe is only ten! Her hands are for playing the piano! I've protected her so carefully her whole life, never letting her get so much as a scratch! It's their first day back, and Chloe is already hurt! You have to give me an explanation!" Mrs. Vance remained silent. Mr. Vance spoke, his voice cold. "It's a good thing her hand isn't seriously injured. If it were, we'd have a hard time explaining this to the Grants. If our families have a falling out over this, we can't just let it slide!" Dahlia snorted. "Like mother, like daughter." I was about to explode, but my mom beat me to it. "Janie didn't do it. I know my child. Janie is the kindest girl in the world. She would never do something like this." I stared at her, my vision blurring. "Mom…" She squeezed my hand, her voice firm and unwavering. "My Janie would never do something like this." Mrs. Vance frowned. "Evelyn, I understand you're a mother." "But coddling her like this is only hurting her. Chloe is seriously injured. The doctor said she was lucky, she could have been scarred for life." "You just got here, so you don't know, but that child loves the piano. What if she could never play again? You'd be destroying her entire life. The evidence is right in front of you. Why are you still defending your child?" "Evelyn, listen to me. Have Janie apologize to Chloe and Dahlia. We can still be a family after this." My mom pulled her hand away. "Mom! You said it yourself, I'm Janie's mother! I carried her for ten months. I love her, I trust her, and I will protect her!" The unshed tears in my mom's eyes seemed to sting Mrs. Vance. She looked away, her gaze flickering with guilt. My mom stood up straight, her shoulders back, and faced them all. "There's been a misunderstanding. I want an investigation. Check the security cameras. That will clear Janie's name." I buried my face in her side, sobbing. I was so much luckier than my mom. I had her. I couldn't understand how any mother could not love her child. Mrs. Vance was my mom's mother, too. But I didn't think she loved my mom at all. Mr. Vance scoffed. "Check the cameras? Isn't this embarrassing enough? Have Janie apologize to Chloe! We've watched Chloe grow up. We know her. She wouldn't lie." "The child is already hurt! Can't you even offer a simple apology?" The disappointment in his eyes was a physical blow to my mom, and her whole body started to tremble. The warmth she'd felt upon returning to her family had been fleeting. Reality had just slapped her hard across the face, giving her a glimpse of hope only to snatch it away. Footsteps sounded from the doorway. My mom's older brother, Ethan Vance, had just rushed back from the office. He didn't even bother with greetings. "You just got here and you're already causing this much trouble!" he snapped. "Mom, Dad, if something serious happens to Chloe's hand, can the two of them even take responsibility for it? How are we supposed to explain this to the Grants?" "I heard everything from outside. Apologize! Or I'll have no choice but to call the police!" Ethan was completely cold towards this long-lost sister of his. My mom tensed up, her body rigid. I stared at them, dumbfounded. They were all completely insane. I couldn't beat them. So I decided to join them. "No need to bother! I've already called the police!" The entire Vance family stared at me in shock. I slammed a small recording pen onto the coffee table and hit play. Chloe's triumphant, taunting words filled the room, replaying the scene for everyone to hear. Having read so many "switched at birth" novels, did they really think I wouldn't know the importance of a recording pen and hidden cameras? I didn't have money to buy one, so I'd begged and pleaded with a classmate to let me borrow one. I never thought I'd actually need it. "The police will be here soon. I suggest you figure out what your little manipulator is going to say to them." My original plan was to let the police handle the little liar. But now, they'd pushed me too far. I looked around at the Vances. Their eyes darted around the room, none of them daring to meet my gaze. My mom leaned in and whispered, "What's a 'manipulator'?" Just then, the family doctor came over. "Miss Chloe is awake now." Dahlia turned to Mrs. Vance, her eyes red-rimmed. "Mom…" Mrs. Vance's heart ached for her. She completely ignored the recording. "This was all just a misunderstanding. Since Chloe is awake, let's just drop it. It was just kids being kids." Even my mom, the one at the center of it all, could see that the Vances' favoritism was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. Trying to find justice here was a fool's errand. "When Chloe was the one who was 'wronged,' Janie had to apologize. Now that Janie is the one who was wronged, we're supposed to just 'let it go'?" My mom's weakness was me. She had defended me even without proof. Now that we had it, there was no way she would let me swallow this injustice. Mrs. Vance's voice softened. "Evelyn, a harmonious family is a prosperous one…"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393067", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel