On the very day the "True Heiress" returned, I was kicked to the curb. My adoptive parents insisted I taste the bitterness their biological daughter had endured for twenty years. Ha, bitterness? To us real hustlers, this is just a little "budget cut." Playing the underdog? That’s my specialty. 1 It was midnight, and a torrential downpour was hammering New York City. I stood outside the Vanderbilt mansion, owning nothing but the clothes on my back and the phone practically glued to my hand. Less than two hours after the real daughter came home, my adoptive parents threw me out. Lily, the real daughter, said she had suffered for twenty-two years in my place, so it was only fair I tasted what it was like to be destitute. The heavy iron gates slammed shut, and the icy rain slapped my face mercilessly. 2 As a corporate slave who transmigrated into the role of a disposable "fake heiress," I enjoyed the high life for less than twenty-four hours before becoming broke again. I circled the villa and found a dry corner under the first-floor terrace, right below my brother Lucas's room. "Don't worry, she's broke. Once she suffers a bit, she'll realize how good she had it here. She'll come crawling back to beg you soon enough," Lily's voice drifted down from the drainpipe. Tsk, so much for soundproofing in a mansion. I knew it. Lucas, who was all handsy this afternoon and giving off weird Flowers in the Attic vibes, was suddenly silent tonight. Turns out he wants to keep me as a pet. Well, he calculated wrong. For Lucas, owning only one luxury condo means poverty. But for a true hustler like me, having two hundred bucks in my digital wallet means I can survive for two weeks. Plus, I still had the eighty thousand dollars left over from this month's allowance in my account. To the rich, that's ice cream money. To us normal folks? That's years of living expenses if I'm careful. What they think is hitting rock bottom is just a lifestyle downgrade for me. 3 Twenty minutes later, my Uber arrived. The driver got out with an umbrella and opened the door for me—a full VIP service that made me feel like an heiress again. Worth the 20% surge pricing. I don't know what's wrong with TV heroines who walk in the rain until they get a fever after being kicked out. Pure masochism. I don't have money for medical bills. Life is hard enough; I'm not suffering unnecessarily. 4 The driver dropped me off at the nearest budget hotel. $150 a night. I took a hot shower and changed into the hotel bathrobe while sending my clothes to the front desk for dry cleaning. Before sleeping, I downed two packets of Emergen-C I ordered on DoorDash. When you're out on your own, health is wealth. If no one loves you, you gotta love yourself. 5 I woke up feeling refreshed. Wearing my dry-cleaned clothes, I left the hotel and headed to a nearby wholesale market. I squeezed into a crowded stall and haggled like my life depended on it, spending a hundred bucks on four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, and a pair of canvas shoes. As I left, the stall owner complained while bagging my stuff, "Girl, you dress so fancy but bargain so hard. I gave you the cost price and even threw in a nice bag." Of course. I needed a decent bag to sell my Louis Vuitton outfit for a good price. It's a pity about the lambskin shoes. Rich people must burn money for fun; these shoes got scuffed soles after one day. Can't even sell them secondhand. But my rhinestone phone case is worth something. An $800 phone with a $3,000 case. If I hadn't checked the shopping history, I wouldn't believe money could be wasted like this. And the original owner of this body couldn't survive and went to work at a bar? Brain dead behavior. 6 I spun like a top all morning and finally liquidated all my valuables. Now, nothing on me costs more than $29.99. It's giving "Temu chic," and honestly? I'm comfortable. This fits my spending habits way better. Walking with an extra sixty-five thousand dollars in my account, I felt like I was floating. Rich! I gotta treat myself. I found a hole-in-the-wall noodle spot near the CBD. Not much meat, but the sauce was authentic and fragrant. Best of all? Cheap. Fifteen bucks for a huge bowl, free noodle refills. I hadn't eaten properly since last night, so I slurped it down fast. Scraping the last bit of sauce and meat, I let out a loud burp. I didn't dare eat before selling my clothes, afraid of staining them and lowering the value. Wearing gold and silver makes me nervous; downgrading my lifestyle makes me happy. I guess I'm just not cut out for fine dining. 7 That afternoon, I bought a prepaid SIM card and swapped my $800 phone for a $200 budget Android. The familiar OS felt like home. Ah, smells like value. Dropping it doesn't hurt my heart anymore! Durable as ever. I scrolled through my chat history. The last two days were filled with mockery and sarcasm, plus "sponsorship" offers from rich second-generation kids led by my "brother." Screw them. Money rotted their brains. How did the original owner live like this? Her social circle was trash. Not even one brain-dead bestie to borrow money from. The most annoying message was from Lucas, acting like a king: "Have you realized your mistake yet?" What mistake? Does he think he can hang me from the city walls? It's a society of laws, buddy. I sent a "F*** off" and blocked him. Realize my mistake? As if! What a piece of work. 8 After liquidating everything, I checked out of the hotel carrying a big black trash bag. Inside was my entire life: my new clothes, plus the hotel's disposable toothbrush and slippers. Hotels in Manhattan are too expensive. I planned to move further out to Queens or Brooklyn. The reason I hadn't left the expensive city yet was that, as a senior, I needed to pick up my diploma and degree certificate soon. Before transmigration, I was sent to a factory right after middle school. A true fish that slipped through the compulsory education net. Thinking about becoming a certified college graduate made me a little excited. Modern novels really lack logic just to torture the cannon fodder characters. Why would someone with limbs and a bachelor's degree go work at the male lead's bar just to get humiliated? Waiting for a drink to the face? 9 I went back to school the day after graduation, specifically avoiding the ceremony. Seeing Lily's triumphant, high-and-mighty face once was enough. I didn't need to nauseate myself a second time. We were actually roommates, though I only slept there once or twice. During school, I lived in a luxury apartment bought by the family, complete with a maid. Lily, who had to work part-time every day, was insanely jealous. Classic foil setup to draw aggro. One of the reasons she targeted me. But it wasn't my fault, or even my parents' fault. They were migrant workers who happened to have a baby in the room next to the VIP suite on the same day. The rival family that the Vanderbilts bankrupted switched the babies for revenge. The original owner's parents were poor but responsible. They raised Lily to get into the same university as me before passing away from illness. I don't understand why the Vanderbilt family had to humiliate that old couple. What did they do wrong? Do poor people not deserve to have children?
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