The Real Heiress Strikes Back

1: 1

During the wedding, right as we were exchanging rings,

my own brother came bursting in with the fake heiress in his arms, her face bloodless, announcing that her PTSD had flared up

and that Clive Delgado, my psychologist fiancé, had to step in and treat her at once.

I was just about to open my mouth to stop him when a string of comments floated past my eyes.

*The fake heiress's PTSD got better ages ago. She made a bet with someone that she'd wreck this wedding, and if she wins she gets a limited-edition Chanel bag.*

*Clive isn't doing therapy at all. Every "session" is him and the fake heiress sleeping together.*

*Warning! The second Ivy Henson dares to interfere, Joyce Henson will pretend she's been pushed over the edge and run out, then stage a car crash and fake her own death. The whole Henson family will fly into a rage and team up to lock Ivy in a psychiatric hospital, where she'll be abused until she dies.*

Everyone was crowded around the fake heiress. Not one of them spared a glance for me, the bride still standing at the altar.

I quietly swallowed the objection on my lips, cold rising in my eyes.

Since you all want a thrill on my wedding day,

then I'll give you a thrill you won't forget.

1

Clive dropped the wedding ring in his hand at once and carefully took Joyce into his arms.

I only frowned, and my brother Luke Henson shoved me, hard.

The champagne tower behind me toppled over, spilling all over me, leaving me a mess.

"Ivy, haven't you caused enough trouble? If you hadn't come back to steal everything that's Joyce's, why would her illness have relapsed?"

"In my heart, Joyce is my only sister. If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you."

My mother came striding over on her heels, looking at Joyce with worry.

When she turned to me, her face was hard as stone.

"Joyce's PTSD comes and goes, and the doctor said she can't take any more shocks. You keep pushing and pushing. Are you trying to drive her to her death?"

My father wore a look of pure displeasure.

"You wretch. Don't you understand that a life is at stake?"

"A wedding is just a formality. Are you really going to stand there and watch something happen to Joyce? You have no heart at all!"

I stood in the middle of the shattered glass, cold all over.

I hadn't said a single thing, and my whole family had lined up, one and all, tripping over themselves to blame me for making a scene.

The last thread of family feeling in my heart dissolved completely.

*The real heiress is so pitiful. Not one person in that whole family actually cares about her.*

*Big scoop: the brother has known for years that Joyce isn't his real sister, and he's had a crush on her the whole time. No wonder he's biased beyond belief.*

*Back then the real heiress was the one who got taken by the traffickers, all because she saved Luke, and she suffered out there for eighteen years, only to end up like this. What a waste.*

*If you ask me, that mother's blind too. Joyce isn't any orphan. She's the illegitimate daughter of her husband and his childhood-sweetheart first love.*

Something shifted in my chest, and all the hurt and resentment and unwillingness got pressed back down.

If what the comments said was true, then this was going to be quite the show.

A flicker of smugness crossed Joyce's eyes as she dabbed at her dry lashes.

"Ivy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"I know you blame me for taking your place, but I can't help being sick. Maybe I should just leave the Henson family after all."

Clive was instantly soothing her, aching for her.

"Don't talk nonsense. You're just ill. You can't control your emotions. No one blames you."

When he turned to me, his eyes were full of cold contempt and disgust.

"Ivy, don't you know how Joyce ended up like this?"

When we were kids, my brother took me out to play and a trafficker set his sights on us.

I bit down on the trafficker's leg and wouldn't let go, saving him at the risk of my own life.

But I was the one dragged off into the deep mountains, where I endured eighteen years of inhuman torment.

Working the fields and feeding pigs day after day, going hungry, freezing, reading other people's faces, just scraping by to survive.

Three years ago the Hensons found me and brought me back.

That very night, Joyce slit her wrists and ended up in the hospital.

She cried and said she'd stolen my whole life, that she couldn't face me, that she'd be better off dead.

From that day on, I became the Hensons' vicious, narrow-minded real heiress who couldn't stand to share.

They never once asked how much I'd suffered in those eighteen years.

All they cared about was whether Joyce might feel wronged.

Even today, on my wedding day, the most important day of my life.

Joyce only pressed a hand to her chest and frowned, and every one of them was frantic over her.

"Ivy, I know you've looked forward to this wedding for a long time."

"But Joyce's condition can't wait. Her mental state is extremely unstable, and no one but me can calm her down. A wedding can be postponed, it can be held again, but a life can't be put on hold."

"Be reasonable. Let me treat her first."

I looked at the guests who'd come to the wedding and forced down the emotions churning inside me.

"There are countless psychologists out there. Even your own mentor still has openings."

"Why does it have to be you who treats her?"

"If you're the only one who can save her, then fine. I'll give her the bride's place."