When I returned to the US to handle the real estate my father left behind, I found that all the door locks had been changed. I called the property management, only to be told: "This house has been sold. The owner's daughter came in person to handle it." I stood there stunned: "I just got off the plane. I haven't been back in the country for five years." My dad only has one child, me. How is that possible? But the man was absolutely certain: "I processed the paperwork myself. There's no mistake." He pulled out his phone: "Here, I even have a picture of her." I took the phone. In the photo, a girl was looking down, a smile on her face. And that face looked 90% like mine. 1 Who is this? I stared at the photo, my whole body turning cold. "I don't know this person. She's not part of our family." My voice was tight. The property manager gave a short, dismissive laugh: "Young lady, you can't just make things up." "We verified all the documents at the time: proof of the father-daughter relationship, the death certificate, the cremation certificate—everything was there, all with official seals." He looked me up and down suspiciously: "Besides, just because you say she isn't, doesn't mean she isn't." "What if she's a child your dad had outside of his marriage?" "Impossible." I blurted out. "My parents always had a great relationship. After my mom passed away, he never remarried. He couldn't possibly have an illegitimate daughter." My father built his business from the ground up and was entirely devoted to my mother. After my mother died of illness, he threw himself entirely into work and taking care of me. Later, when his health failed, I brought him abroad for treatment. Aside from the regular housekeeper and security guards, no other woman had ever appeared in our home. Every week I flew back to keep him company, and it was always just me by his side. It was absolutely impossible for him to have an illegitimate daughter. "I personally saw my father off. The cremation certificate is right here with me; I never gave it to anyone." I tried to make him understand the truth of the situation. But the property manager impatiently waved his hand: "We only look at the documents. If the documents are complete and the official seals are real, the procedure is legal." "And besides, she even got the property deed. If she wasn't his biological daughter, would your dad have given her the property deed?" The property deed? My heart sank heavily. No, the property deed for this house should clearly be in my father's safe abroad; I put it there with my own hands. How could this be? Seeing my hesitation, a staff member nearby also laughed: "So, you see, rather than considering whether we got the wrong person, you'd be better off thinking about your own family issues." "I've seen plenty of drama with rich families like yours." "On the surface, everything looks calm and peaceful, but underneath, there's always some dirty laundry. They just keep it tightly hidden from you kids." "Maybe," he paused, a hint of mockery in his eyes, "you, the one who stays abroad all year round, are the one who isn't recognized?" "Now that the real deal has come back to take what's hers, you're the one left in the dark." These words stabbed into my heart like a knife. I trembled with anger, the blood rushing straight to my head. "You're spouting nonsense!" I instinctively took a few steps forward. I absolutely will not allow anyone to speak of my father this way. "What are you doing?" Seeing me close in, he finally got scared. "Hit a nerve, did I? You're so angry and humiliated you want to get physical?" Several property staff around us looked over, pointing and whispering. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Anger won't solve the problem. The priority is to figure out what's going on. "That girl," I suppressed the choke in my throat, trying to ask as calmly as possible, "What is her name?" The property manager flipped through the registration records without looking up: "I think it's... Chloe Sterling." I froze in place, as if struck by lightning. Chloe Sterling. That is my name. "You said her name is... Chloe Sterling?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Yeah, Chloe Sterling. That's the name registered, and the social security number matches too..." He finally looked up at me as he spoke, seemingly startled by my reaction. "What's wrong?" What's wrong? Someone stole my name, my identity, and after my father passed away, stole his house. A chill shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head. I immediately pulled out my ID card and slammed it on the desk in front of him. "Look closely! I am Chloe Sterling! My ID card, my passport, they're all right here!" The manager picked up my ID card, comparing it against the records in the system, and his face slowly changed. "This... this is impossible..." he muttered to himself, his eyes darting back and forth between me and the photo on his phone. "The ID she provided at the time... the information was exactly the same as yours!" Exactly the same? She even duplicated my ID information? It seems this isn't just simple identity theft anymore; this is a meticulously planned fraud. 2 I instinctively pulled out my phone to call the police. My finger was already on the '9', but I suddenly stopped. No. Right now is the most sensitive time for the transfer of equity in our family's company. The slightest breeze could shake the stock price. If news broke out now that "the identity of the sole heiress to the Sterling family was stolen and her property defrauded," who knows what kind of drama those covetous shareholders and competitors would fabricate. I took a deep breath and shoved the phone back into my pocket. I have to investigate this myself first. I turned to the property manager, trying to keep my tone even: "Could you please give me the contact information for that Chloe Sterling?" I need a face-to-face confrontation. Upon hearing this, the last bit of residual embarrassment on the manager's face vanished instantly, replaced by a bureaucratic expression: "Ms. Sterling, that's against the rules." "The personal information of our homeowners is strictly confidential. How can I just give it to you?" "She's impersonating me!" "You say she's impersonating you, so she is?" The manager smiled without his eyes reaching his smile. "Where's the proof? Just your word?" "What if you're the imposter? How would we explain that to the real owner?" His twisting of the truth made my chest tight with anger. Looking at my livid face, he suddenly lowered his voice, leaned in closer, with a look that suggested he was enjoying the show: "Unless... you can prove that the documents she provided are fake." "Otherwise, with nothing but empty words, it's very difficult for us." Documents— Right, the property deed. The original property deed is in my dad's safe abroad; there's no way that imposter has it. As long as I produce the original, won't everything be clear? "You wait here!" I immediately took out my phone, found Aunt Mary's number, and dialed. Aunt Mary was the caregiver who had looked after my dad for several years. She's very reliable and has been helping to manage his affairs and sort out his residence abroad. The call connected quickly. "Aunt Mary, it's me, Chloe." I tried to make my voice sound less frantic. "I need a favor. Could you please go to my dad's study right now and open the black safe? The passcode is my birthday." "Inside, there's a brown property deed for the apartment in the complex back home. Once you find it, take a picture and send it to me immediately. It's extremely urgent." There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, followed by Aunt Mary's hesitant and confused voice: "Chloe... that property deed... isn't it long gone?" My heart sank heavily: "Gone? What do you mean?" "About... about two months ago, Mr. Sterling, your father, he asked me to take that brown booklet out of the safe. He said it was needed." "Later... later I never saw it put back. His mind wasn't very clear at the time, and I specifically asked about it. He said he had disposed of it... I thought you knew about this..." Disposed of it? My dad disposed of the original property deed? I stood frozen, holding the phone, my ears buzzing. Two months ago was exactly when my dad's condition rapidly deteriorated and his consciousness was slipping in and out. How could... The property manager nearby had clearly heard the conversation. The last bit of uncertainty on his face disappeared, replaced by a mocking "I knew it" expression. "Heh," he chuckled lightly. "Ms. Sterling, the situation is very clear now. Regardless of whether she impersonated you or not, the property deed was absolutely handed to her personally by your father." "It seems you, the heiress who stays abroad all year round, are the one truly left in the dark." "Shut up!" I snapped my head toward him, my voice trembling from the effort of suppressing my anger. "It's not what you say!" "Whether it is or isn't, this is how it looks right now." The manager threw his hands up, looking as if he couldn't be bothered to argue further. "Her paperwork is complete, her IDs are real, and even you, the legitimate daughter, can't produce the original document to refute it. I'd say, just accept it. If you make a big deal out of it, who knows who will end up losing face." Accept it? Why should I? During the final days my dad lay in his hospital bed, holding my hand, he repeatedly told me to take good care of this family. How could he possibly get rid of something so important and give it to someone I don't even know? And using my information, no less. An icy rage flared up from the bottom of my heart, instantly engulfing my entire body. Aunt Mary was still on the phone: "Hello? Chloe? Are you still there?" I hung up the phone directly. 3 No time to waste on him. "Move." I stared at the door of what was supposed to be my home and said to the property manager. "What are you trying to do? I'm warning you, don't do anything crazy!" He spread his arms to block me. I couldn't be bothered with him and kicked the door right next to the lock. With a loud clang, the massive sound echoed through the hallway. "You're crazy!" The manager shrieked, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling the police!" "Call them." I looked back at him, my tone threatening. "It'll be perfect for the police to see how your property management assisted an unidentified person in completing a property transfer while the owner's death certificate and cremation certificate are highly questionable." I took a step forward, closing in on him: "My name is Chloe Sterling. My ID is right here." "If you call the police, the first thing they'll verify is my identity." "If it's proven that I am the real one, do you think the accusation that your property management's negligence caused massive losses to the owner won't stick to you?" His finger paused on the keypad. "I'll give you three choices right now." I enunciated every word. "One, you immediately, right this second, contact that imposter and tell her to come here so we can confront each other face-to-face." "Two, you call the police, and then wait for my legal team to sue your property management company for dereliction of duty and defamation." "Three, let me keep kicking the door." "Choose." These words definitely served as a deterrent. His face changed colors several times, his eyes darting evasively. Finally, the man gritted his teeth, put his phone away, and scrolled through his contacts. "Fine, fine, I'll call! You deal with this yourselves!" He stepped aside to make the call, keeping his voice very low. I stood there, my palms sweating slightly from kicking the door and the tense standoff. My heart was drumming in my chest. Not long after, the elevator chimed. A girl wearing a beige trench coat and carrying an exquisite handbag walked out. Seeing the scuff marks on the door and me standing in front of it, a fleeting look of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly regained her composure. It was the person from the photo. Up close, her face looked even more like mine, except there was a shrewdness and calculation between her brows that I would never possess. The property manager greeted her like a savior: "Ms. Sterling, look at this..." The girl raised a hand to cut him off, her gaze falling on me. She looked me up and down, a half-smile playing on her lips: "So you're the one... impersonating me?" The blood rushed to my head. "I'm impersonating you?" I took a step forward, staring her down. Wow, quite the gaslighter. "You're clearly the one impersonating me!" "I am the real Chloe Sterling! Who the hell are you?" As if she'd heard a funny joke, she let out a soft laugh, turned to the property manager, and spoke with a tone of helplessness and grievance: "Manager Zhang, look at this. Are scammers all this self-righteous nowadays?" "My father, David Sterling, only has me as his daughter. He left this house to me, perfectly legal and compliant." "This person inexplicably comes here to damage my property and slander my identity. Shouldn't you ask her to leave?" "Bullshit!" I was so angry I cursed. "My dad only has one daughter! I just got back from overseas!" "Oh? Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow, unhurriedly taking her phone out of her handbag and swiping the screen open. "Talk is cheap. You say you're Chloe Sterling, where's the proof?" I immediately pulled out my wallet, took out my ID card and my passport, and slammed them onto the nearby fire hydrant: "Look closely!" She merely glanced at them, her expression completely unbothered. Instead, she took out her own ID card and placed it next to my documents. "What a coincidence, my name is also Chloe Sterling. And," she paused, looking at me meaningfully, "my ID is real and can be verified in the system." I looked at that ID card. The name, the number, the address... it was exactly the same as my information! She even duplicated this? "Documents can be forged!" I forced down my shock, took out my phone, and pulled up photos of my father and me from recent years, especially the ones of me staying by his bedside during his treatments abroad. "These, these prove our father-daughter relationship. Look closely." She leaned in to look. Instead of panic, a "just as I thought" expression appeared on her face. Then she opened her own phone's photo album, which startlingly revealed even more, highly casual photos— Photos of her and my father walking in the neighborhood from behind, scenes of them eating in the living room at home, and even pictures of her linking arms with him while shopping at the supermarket downstairs. "You prepared quite well," she sneered, her tone pitying. "Good Photoshop skills." "Too bad fake can't become real." As our argument escalated, more and more people gathered around. Yet she didn't panic at all. Instead, she smiled at a few neighbors: "Uncles and Aunts, you've seen me around. I'm the one who always comes and goes with my dad, right?" "Have you ever seen this person who just popped out of nowhere?" An auntie carrying a grocery basket immediately chimed in: "Yes, yes, we see old David's daughter all the time, it's this girl right here!" Another older gentleman nodded: "That's right, little Chloe is very filial, always coming back to keep old David company." I felt like I had plunged into an ice cavern, my whole body turning cold. They actually all know her? She actually lived in this neighborhood under the identity of Chloe Sterling for this long? And I, being abroad, knew absolutely nothing. How long has this conspiracy been planned? "Did you hear that?" The fake Chloe's voice carried the smugness of a victor. "The masses have sharp eyes." "I am David Sterling's only daughter, Chloe Sterling." With her few words, the neighbors grew indignant. They all demanded that I be kicked out. But right at that moment, a crucial piece of evidence flashed in my mind. The company. Yes, exactly! Like clutching at straws, I said: "Since you stole my identity, you should know that my dad is the founder of Sterling Corp." "If you have the guts, come with me to the company." "We'll soon find out what's true and what's fake." I thought she would panic. But she just looked at me quietly for a few seconds, and then a strange, almost cruel smile appeared on her face. "The company?" She slowly pulled out a card from the inner pocket of her trench coat and waved it in front of my eyes— It was an executive access card for the Sterling Group, bearing her photo and the name: Chloe Sterling. "You mean Sterling Corp," she put the card away, crossed her arms, and looked at me with an air of absolute composure, her eyes full of provocation. "Perfect, let's go together then." "Let everyone in the company see whether they recognize you—" She paused, her smile widening. "Or me." 4 I drove straight to the Sterling Group, founded by my father. The fake Chloe drove her flashy red sports car, following unhurriedly behind me. All the way there, my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. The company was my final stronghold. There were uncles and "uncles" who had watched me grow up, veterans who had fought alongside my father to build the empire. They would never mistake someone else for me. As soon as we entered the company lobby, the receptionist saw me, paused for a moment, and then flashed a professional smile: "Hello, who are you looking for?" She actually didn't recognize me immediately. Well, I went abroad in high school, and over the years, when I occasionally came back, I went straight to the top-floor office, rarely lingering downstairs. Before I could speak, the fake Chloe had already walked over with a composed posture, smiling warmly at the receptionist: "Morning, Chen." "Good morning, Ms. Sterling!" The receptionist immediately responded respectfully. What is going on! How is she so familiar with this place too!? Could it be!? An ominous feeling rose in me. No time to think. The fake Chloe turned to me, her voice not loud, but enough for the employees nearby with perked ears to hear clearly: "Didn't you want to come up for a confrontation? Let's go." We walked straight to the executive elevator. As the elevator doors opened, we ran right into a department manager coming out with a cup of coffee. Seeing the two of us, he clearly froze, almost spilling his coffee. "Uncle Wang," I immediately called out to him. He was my dad's driver in the early days of the startup, later moved to administration. You could say he watched me grow up. Uncle Wang looked at me, then at the one beside me, opened his mouth, his face full of confusion: "Chloe? What are you guys..." "Good morning, Uncle Wang," the fake Chloe beat me to it, smiling incredibly naturally. "It's nothing, just ran into someone with... a little misunderstanding." As she spoke, she even shook her head helplessly at me. Uncle Wang looked at her, then at me, his brows tightly furrowed. Finally, he just mumbled vaguely: "Oh, oh, okay, you... you go about your business." Then he hurried away with his coffee. My heart sank halfway. Even Uncle Wang didn't dare to recognize me immediately? Next, we ran into Director Lee from the finance department, one of the company veterans. "Uncle Lee!" Hope reignited within me. Uncle Lee pushed up his glasses, his gaze sweeping back and forth between me and the fake Chloe. After a long while, he hesitantly asked: "Are you... Chloe?" "Uncle Lee, it's me." I quickly took a step forward. The fake Chloe also spoke up at the same time, her tone carrying an intimate complaint: "Uncle Lee, what's wrong with your memory? We just had a meeting together last week." A flash of embarrassment crossed Director Lee's face. He looked at her and then at me, finally sighing: "Getting old, my eyesight is bad. The two of you are... just too alike. But..." he looked at the fake Chloe, "It was indeed you at the meeting last week, I remember." A few employees gradually gathered around, their whispers growing louder. "Why are there two Ms. Sterlings?" "Yeah, they look too much alike!" "The one in the back looks like she just came back from overseas?" "But the one in front comes to the company often. She used to come all the time when Mr. Sterling was around..." Facing the scrutiny of the crowd, the fake Chloe didn't show the slightest stage fright. Instead, she smiled and greeted a few familiar middle-management staff, calling them "Brother Zhang" and "Sister Liu," sounding incredibly familiar. Those whose names she called instinctively nodded in response, while the looks they directed at me were full of scrutiny and suspicion. I stood isolated and unsupported in the center of the crowd, feeling like a clown who had accidentally wandered onto someone else's turf. Just then, a stern voice rang out: "What are you all gathering here for? Don't you have work to do?" The crowd immediately parted to make a path. It was my uncle, Michael Sterling, the Vice President of the company, my father's biological younger brother. He's here! I instantly saw a savior. My nose stung, and I almost burst into tears. This is my dad's biological younger brother. During the later stages of my dad's treatment abroad, it was basically my uncle handling all the major and minor affairs of the company. He also single-handedly managed my father's funeral and saw with his own eyes how heartbroken I was. He could never make a mistake! "Uncle!" I called him, choking back a sob, and was about to step forward. The fake Chloe also spoke up at the same time, her voice carrying a perfectly measured trace of grievance: "Uncle, you're here." Michael Sterling's gaze swept over the two of us, his brows tightly furrowed, his face terrifyingly gloomy. He first looked at me, with scrutiny and... a hint of imperceptible coldness? My heart skipped a beat; a bad premonition arose. Then, he turned to the fake Chloe, his tone softening a bit, carrying reassurance: "Chloe, what's going on? Making all this noise, what does it look like." He called her Chloe?! He walked towards the fake Chloe! I stiffened instantly, my blood seemingly freezing in my veins. "Uncle! I am the real Chloe! Look closely!" I couldn't hold it back any longer and yelled at him. Michael Sterling finally rested his gaze formally on me. There was not a shred of familiarity or intimacy in those eyes, only complete strangeness and annoyance. He spoke in a deep voice to the employees who had rushed over upon hearing the news: "Everyone, Chloe is away all year round, and there will always be people with ulterior motives trying to exploit loopholes and pass themselves off as her." He raised his hand, pointing at me mercilessly, his voice absolutely resolute: "Who exactly are you?" The faces of those veteran shareholders turned pale. They exchanged glances, and when they looked back at me, their gazes had instantly changed from hesitation to sharp accusation and anger. "Actually trying to run a scam inside the company!" "Where is security?! Throw her out!" "The audacity, daring to impersonate Mr. Sterling's daughter!" The fake Chloe stood beside my uncle, her head slightly lowered, but at an angle unseen by the crowd, the corners of her mouth curled into a cold, victorious sneer. I stared blankly at my uncle, looking at his familiar yet foreign face, looking at his firm stance in defending that imposter. The whole world seemed to be spinning, collapsing. How could... this happen?
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