In my ultra-wealthy, old-money family, the biological daughter was finally found. My entire adoptive family sat around, waiting for me—the fake daughter—to have a total mental breakdown and fight for their love. Instead, I just efficiently packed my bags. "I can finally leave? Oh my god, thank you. Seriously, thank you." The real daughter stared at me, completely bewildered. "You don't… you don't hate me?" I patted her on the shoulder. "Honey, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house? "6:00 AM mandatory morning run. 8:00 PM strict curfew. No speaking allowed while eating. All romantic partners must be vetted and approved by the family board..." Her face went pale, inch by inch. I gave a cheerful, dramatic wave. "Good luck, sis! I’m going to go pursue my freedom!" 01 My phone buzzed aggressively. I was currently at my desk at work, slacking off and playing a video game. The estate’s head butler calling me scared me so badly my hand jerked, and my character instantly dropped dead on the screen. "Miss Harper, your father requires you to return to the main estate immediately." I sat up straight, glancing at the date on the bottom right corner of my computer monitor. My heart tightened. Is this it? Finally? "Arthur, is it…" "Yes," the butler said, his tone grave. "Miss Stella’s DNA results came back. Your father has sent the security detail to pick her up." I practically launched myself out of my office chair. My cubicle neighbor, Mia, was still immersed in her own game. Startled by my sudden movement, her eyes went wide. "Whoa, Harper! Did you hit the lottery or something? Why are you so happy?" "Better than the lottery!" I replied, shutting down my computer at lightning speed. I grabbed the little potted succulent from my desk and shoved it into my tote bag. "I’m finally getting my freedom!" "...Okay, but why are you stealing the company plant?" "I’ve been raising it for three years. We have an emotional bond." Half an hour later, I was standing at the front doors of the Thorne family estate, taking a deep breath. This is the last time, Harper Thorne. Perform this final act perfectly, and you are free from this gilded cage! 02 I pushed open the massive mahogany doors. The atmosphere in the living room was so heavy you could cut it with a knife. My dad, my mom, and my older brother, Connor. The three of them sat on the pristine white leather sofa in a rigid, perfect triangle. A very stable shape, mathematically speaking. "Dad. Mom. Connor." I greeted them politely, one by one, keeping my voice sweet and submissive. My gaze swept over the glass coffee table, landing on the DNA test report. I kept my expression perfectly neutral. Internally, I was doing backflips. I wondered which limited-edition designer bags I should pack in my suitcase tonight. My dad didn't notice the joy vibrating right under my skin. He gave a tactical, awkward cough. "Harper, sit down. We have some news..." "I’m the fake daughter switched at birth, the real one has been found, and she’s on her way home right now, right?" I interrupted, cutting right to the chase. "Where is she? I’ll go out to the driveway and welcome her." Dead silence filled the cavernous hall. They all looked like they had just swallowed a lemon. Connor narrowed his eyes at me. "Harper, are you okay? Did the shock break your brain?" He paused. "Look, if you want to scream and cry, just do it. Don’t hold it in." "Harper, Mom knows you must be devastated..." "Stop! Both of you. I am perfectly fine," I said, holding up my hands. "When is my new sister arriving? Does she need help setting up her room?" My dad’s brow furrowed tightly. "Harper, you… you aren’t sad? You know we still love you..." "Why would I be sad?" I blinked rapidly, putting on my best innocent act. "Having a sister is amazing!" Three pairs of eyes stared at me with profound suspicion. They clearly didn't buy it. In the script they had written for this moment, I was supposed to: A. Break down in hysterical tears. B. Flip the coffee table in a rage. C. Faint dramatically. They had probably already planned on waiting for me to calm down before letting Stella in the front door. "Stella is back. Your status in this family..." Connor said darkly, waiting, almost hoping, for me to finally snap. Sorry to disappoint, big bro. I just kept blinking, refusing to take the bait. Nobody can use my emotions against me if I don't have any to give them. 03 Connor let out a cold sneer. "Pathetic act." Then, like a petulant child demanding a show, he gestured to the butler. The butler immediately led in a girl wearing a simple, faded white dress. She was biting her lip, her expression terrified and anxious. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The moment I saw her face, I knew why the family had found her so easily. They didn't even need a DNA test. She was the spitting image of my dad. I took a step forward. My family immediately tensed, their eyes darting between me and her like security detail waiting for an attack. I had to suppress a laugh. I walked deliberately slow, just to mess with them. Then, under their petrified gazes, I opened my arms wide. "Sister! Welcome home!" Stella froze, her eyes going round. She stammered, "You… you don't hate me? I’m taking your place." "Hate you? I can’t thank you enough!" Before I could say anything else to reassure her, a loud, theatrical wail erupted behind me. My mom threw herself forward like the lead actress in a soap opera, snatching Stella into a crushing hug. "My poor, suffering daughter!" My lip twitched. I silently sidestepped to give my dad and Connor space to join the performance. The four of them huddled together in a weeping mass. It was an Emmy-worthy display of family drama. I stood on the sidelines, watching their raw display of emotion. A tiny, fleeting sting of loneliness brushed against my heart. But it vanished quickly. I shook it off. While they were immersed in their sentimental reunion, I quietly backed away. I turned and bolted up the stairs, my movements swift and efficient as I started packing. The very first thing I did was pick up the book titled High Society Etiquette from my nightstand and chuck it straight into the trash can. Twenty minutes later, I appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a massive suitcase. The expressions on my family’s faces instantly solidified into pure shock. "Harper Thorne! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!" Connor barked. "I’m just clearing space for my sister." Stella stood to the side, looking utterly lost. "You don’t have to..." I saw how overwhelmed she was, so I patted her kindly on the shoulder. "Sweetie, do you know what the rules are in this house?" 04 She shook her head blankly. I started counting them off on my fingers. "Mandatory six AM morning runs. Strict eight PM curfews. No speaking allowed while eating. All romantic partners must be vetted and approved by the family board..." "Oh, right, I remember my very first date when I was seventeen. The family sent three bodyguards to follow us. They literally scared the poor guy so badly he transferred out of state the next day." Her face went pale, inch by inch, and she looked at our parents with genuine terror. My mom interrupted me. "Harper! Stop scaring your sister!" "I’m not scaring her. I'm just listing the Tuesday schedule." Connor was the quickest to react. He was the first to realize I was actually serious. He took a long stride, blocking my path. "You’ve been pampered and spoiled your entire life. Do you honestly think you can survive outside the Thorne estate?" I stopped and gave him a mysterious smile. "Connor, take a wild guess at how much secret slush-fund money I’ve saved up over the years." "To be perfectly honest, right now, I just feel like thanking the heavens for finally setting me free." Connor: "..." Stella grabbed the sleeve of my faux-fur jacket, tears welling in her eyes. "Sister, please don’t go..." I patted her head affectionately. "Be a good girl. You’re the sole hope of the dynasty now." With that, I gave a cheerful, dramatic wave. I shoved my suitcase forward and walked out of the mansion without a single backward glance. "Good luck! I’m going to go pursue happiness!" Outside, my best friend Mia was waiting in her blacked-out SUV. Her jaw practically dropped when she saw my outfit. "Harper, are you running away to join a rock band?" I clattered down the driveway in my stilettos, breaking into a light jog. "This isn't running away, it’s a jailbreak!" I buckled my seatbelt and yelled, "Go, go, go! Drive! Before they realize I’m actually leaving." As the engine roared to life, I took one last look at the sprawling estate where I had spent over twenty years. I let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a supervillain. "I, Harper Thorne, am finally free!" Maybe it was my imagination, but as we drove away, I swore I heard my mom scream from the front door: "Stop her! She packed my vintage crocodile Birkin bag!!!" 05 "Alright, girl. Where are we going to celebrate?" Mia’s words reminded me of my new reality. Celebrate. Damn right. An event of this magnitude required a massive celebration. I excitedly rubbed my hands together. I pulled out the "Top 100 Things to Do After Escaping the Thorne Dynasty" note from my phone and passionately announced: "First stop: Greasy street-cart tacos! Second stop: The spiciest, cheapest ramen joint! Third stop: Late-night food truck burgers!" Outside the open windows, the wind rushed past. It carried the chaotic scents of the city, the smell of street food, the heavy aroma of fried onions and smoke. Back in the mansion, every single bite I ate was monitored by a private chef. Nothing that could make me gain weight. Nothing that could affect my complexion. Nothing with a strong smell was allowed. But now, I hung my head out the window and let out a triumphant cheer, screaming into the night sky: "Screw debutante etiquette! I’m going to eat whatever the hell I want!" "Okay, settle down. With your pampered, sensitive stomach, three bites of that street food and you’ll be in the ER," Mia deadpanned, before adding meaningfully, "And besides, are you acting like Grayson Pierce doesn't exist?" I instantly choked on my own laughter, my arrogant energy vanishing like smoke. Grayson Pierce. That name was like a bucket of ice water poured directly over my head. Mia saw my silence and clicked her tongue. "What? Scared now?" I forced a smile. "I’m not scared. But the engagement is a core exchange of business interests between two empires. The only reliable partner is a biological daughter. Who the hell am I in this scenario?" It was smarter to just proactively create some distance. "Please. You two grew up together. Grayson, to you..." "You’re overthinking it," I said, shaking my head. "It’s a business arrangement. He’s cold and ruthless. He doesn't care if his fiancé is Harper Thorne, Stella Thorne, or even my brother Connor, as long as they represent the Thorne family." Who was Grayson Pierce? At sixteen, he was already forcing veteran negotiators to break into a cold sweat at the boardroom table. At twenty, he took over the family business, and his methods were so brutal they terrified the entire corporate world. He was the undisputed king of the business elite. Feelings were probably the least valuable commodity to him. I thought about it, my heart breaking just a little bit. "He used to be my fiancé, but now he’s just going to be my brother-in-law." 06 The next day, I woke up around noon with a massive hangover. It felt like a freight train had parked on my skull. I groggily dragged myself out of bed. The sun was blindingly bright outside. I squinted at my phone—1:30 PM. Perfect. I had successfully slept through breakfast and lunch. Classic me. My phone was saturated with notifications from Mia's text bombing: "Well? How was it? Was last night with Grayson enjoyable? Did you guys unlock any new locations? On the bed? On the sofa? In front of the mirror? Against the floor-to-ceiling windows? "Don't thank me. I know you’ve been thirsting after his body for years, so it was only natural you couldn't control yourself~" [Winking emoji.gif] "And honestly, Grayson looks incredible in a suit. I kinda want to bury my face in his chest, too." ? What Grayson? What is she talking about? I rubbed my temples violently, trying to mine any shred of memory from the blackout, but my mind was a total void. I scrolled down to find one last notification. It was a video. The moment I clicked play, I almost threw my phone across the room. ... In the video, my face was flushed red, my eyes were unfocused, and I was standing on a plastic folding chair outside a food truck. I was staring up at the night sky at a dramatic angle, looking incredibly moody, taking a loud sip from a juice box. Then, I spoke with profound seriousness: "Mia, you need to remember this—love will betray you, but cheesecake never will." Mia's voice came from off-camera, dripping with disdain: "? Speak English." In the video, I dramatically pointed a single finger at the camera lens. With my other hand, I slowly pulled a snowy white chef's hat from my tote bag and solemnly placed it on my head. My voice was funereal: "The old Harper Thorne is dead. "Standing before you now is the new and improved Harper— "The woman who is going to make sure this entire city has to wait three hours in line for her signature cheesecake!" Mia's laugh was so violent the camera shook uncontrollably. "Haha, you total dork... wait!" Her voice suddenly cut off. "Look behind you..." In the video, I scoffed, not even bothering to look back. "Nice try. Last time we went to the club, you used the exact same..." The next second, the Harper in the video froze completely. Because in the lens, a long, pale, elegant hand had reached out and rested on my shoulder. In the video, I turned my head drunkly, locking eyes with a familiar pair of calm, slightly resigned eyes. It was Grayson Pierce. 07 Grayson Pierce was dressed in a perfect, tailored suit, his tie flawlessly knotted. He looked utterly out of place amidst the chaos and grease of the late-night food truck lot. And there I was, standing on a plastic chair, wearing a chef’s hat, waving around a juice box. The air in the video seemed to solidify. The Harper in the video blinked, then suddenly burst into a massive grin and poked him in the cheek. "Huh? Why would Grayson Pierce appear in a place like this? Am I dreaming..." I leaned in close to Grayson, squinting at him through a drunken haze. "But why is this Grayson Pierce so cold? He isn't even smiling..." As I spoke, I suddenly grabbed his face with both hands and forced the corners of his mouth upwards— Manually giving him a "smile." I had pushed his expensive glasses completely askew. Behind the lenses, the calm, unperturbed eyes actually widened in shock, his long lashes fluttering. The video cut off. Me: "..." My phone clattered onto the bed. I slid out of bed and onto the floor, burying my face in my hands, letting out a scream of pure despair. "Just kill me—" Just as I was contemplating how to gracefully fake my own death, my phone rang again. Caller ID: [The Iceman] I scrambled to pick up the phone, my voice trembling with guilt. "H-hello??" On the other end of the line, his voice was low, carrying a hint of exhaustion I couldn't quite place: "You’re awake?" "Y-yeah, I’m awake..." I was reduced to a terrifying puddle of nerves. "Head hurt?" "I’m... I’m okay..." "Okay. The kitchen is on the second floor of my place. The housekeeper prepared some hangover soup for you." Your place? I suddenly realized something. I looked around the room. It was a strange bedroom, decorated in an extremely minimalist black, white, and grey style. There was a half-finished iced Americano on the nightstand. This was Grayson Pierce’s bedroom! "Wait! Why am I at your house?" 08 There was a silence on the other end for about two seconds. "Last night you drank too much. You threw up all over me, and you got your own clothes dirty. "I said I would take you back to the Thorne estate, but you grabbed a streetlamp and refused to let go, saying, 'I am never going back there, even if I die.' "And then you grabbed my sleeve and asked me if I would run away with you, and asked if I was willing..." Me: "..." "Mia seemed to remember she had some kind of emergency. She took her car keys and left immediately, looking like she had made a solemn vow." "So, I had no choice but to bring you back to my place." My toes were already curling so hard I could have dug a trench in the hardwood floor from pure embarrassment. "So… so nothing happened, right? Like, nothing… nothing, or we didn't do anything we shouldn't have, right?" "…You don't remember any of it?! Last night you..." His tone sounded genuinely incredulous, but he cut himself off halfway through the sentence. My heart rate instantly spiked to 180. A million explicit scenarios flashed through my mind. On the bed. On the sofa. In front of the mirror. Against the floor-to-ceiling windows. We… couldn't have actually… done it… right? Harper Thorne, this is your future brother-in-law! You are an absolute animal! "I remember, I remember! It’s just… maybe I don't remember… everything..." I gave a couple of dry chuckles, trying to hide the fact that I remembered absolutely nothing. From the receiver, I heard the sound of a fountain pen tapping on a desk. Tap—tap—tap— each one hitting my tightening nerves. A moment later, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh came from the other end: "Harper." "Here!" I snapped, reacting automatically, standing up straight like a soldier at roll call. "You said yesterday..." He paused. "You wanted to open a bakery?" My heart skipped a beat. "Y-yeah..." "Do you need an investor?" I immediately waved my hands frantically, even though he couldn't see me. This little business didn't need investment. I had already done the math. With the cash I had saved up over the years, plus the money I would get from selling the designer bags I snagged from the house, I had more than enough to lease a commercial space! "No, no, I’m good. I have the money. Just make sure you come to my shop and support my business!" "Okay," he agreed readily. "On opening day, I’ll be there." My eyes lit up. That’s a giant cash cow walking right into my shop! On the other end of the line, Grayson watched the city skyline from his office, a faint chuckle escaping him, his voice laced with a strange, unspoken joy. However, right before the conversation was about to end, he suddenly said something completely out of nowhere: "What if I said I was willing?" Me: "Huh?" "…Nothing." His voice instantly returned to its usual icy calm, as if that fleeting moment of vulnerability had been entirely my imagination. "Get some rest."
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