The True Heiress Won’t Give In

The day I found out I was the switched-at-birth heiress, I didn’t waste a second. I went straight to the Garver estate to claim my life. There was no cliché drama. After a quick DNA test, my biological parents, the Garvers, announced my return to the world. Even the fake heiress, Stella, didn’t cause any trouble. In fact, she did everything she could to help me adjust to my new, opulent life. But I wasn’t satisfied. I made a habit of turning the house upside down, my anger a constant storm. It finally came to a head when I slapped one of the maids. My mother, Mrs. Garver, exploded. “What is it you really want, Zoe?” I pointed a trembling finger at the maid. “She’s always comparing me to your other daughter,” I spat. “She says I’m stupid, that I’m ugly. An ugly duckling.” Then, my finger swung towards Stella. “Everything she is, everything she has, she stole from me. Why should I have to live under the same roof as her, a constant reminder of what I lost? Get her out, or I’ll keep tearing this house apart.” My parents exchanged a look, then tried to reason with me. “Zoe, the switch wasn’t Stella’s fault.” No, it wasn’t her fault. But was it mine? “I refuse to share the role of ‘good daughter’ with her,” I declared. “It’s one or the other. Either she goes, or I do.”

1 “Zoe, please…” My mother reached for me, her voice softening, ready to smooth things over like she always did. I slapped her hand away without a second thought, my glare venomous. My father’s voice boomed. “What is that attitude? Is that any way to treat your mother?” I grabbed my hair, my voice rising to a hysterical shriek. “She’s not my mother, and you’re not my father! You’re Stella’s parents. What am I? Some intruder who crashed your perfect family? You probably wish I’d just died out there, don’t you?” My eyes darted to the source of my latest tantrum: a box of strawberries on the coffee table, not quite fresh. I snatched the box and smashed it on the floor. With the heel of my shoe, I ground each berry into the marble, the sweet juice splattering like blood. “In this house, your precious daughter is a princess, and I’m a beggar! She wants strawberries, the maids get her the freshest, most expensive ones from Japan. I want some? I get the week-old rejects that are starting to rot! When have you ever treated me like your real daughter? Why does everyone here look down on me?” I’d always heard the staff whispering. I’d ignored it, swallowing my pride because, in a way, they were right. I knew if I caused too much trouble, I’d wear out my welcome. But my restraint was met with their scorn. “A phoenix without its feathers is no better than a chicken,” I’d overheard one of them sneer. “What does she know about fine food? Those strawberries are a hundred dollars a box. Even the rotten ones are too good for her.” That’s when I realized the big, juicy strawberries I’d been happily eating were Stella’s leftovers—the ones she’d tasted and deemed not good enough. Her trash. Why? I was the real daughter of this house. I screamed and cried until I was hoarse. But my parents just offered placating words. “We’ll fire her immediately. You want strawberries? We’ll take you to the market right now, buy the very best.” Stella bit her lip, her voice calm. “I didn’t know about any of this. I…” She took a step towards me. I shoved her, hard. “Don’t you pretend to be the good guy, you thief! You stole my life and you still walk around here acting so high and mighty.” Stella stumbled backward, her head cracking against the corner of the table. Blood gushed from the wound. I froze, horrified. My mother crumpled to the floor, a strangled sob escaping her lips. Pain flashed across my father’s face. Seeing their reaction, a fresh wave of hatred washed over me. Without thinking, I bolted for the balcony and threw one leg over the railing.

2 Hands grabbed me, pulling me back. My parents. I fought them, trying to throw myself over the edge. “Let me go! Either I die, or she leaves!” Only one thought consumed me: get rid of Stella. Get rid of the thief, the robber who had stolen everything from me. My mother was weeping hysterically, but she never once said the words. She never agreed to make Stella leave. In the end, it was Stella herself. Clutching her bleeding head, she walked to the balcony and slowly sank to her knees before me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, blood smearing her face, making her look utterly pathetic. “I’ll go now. I’m sorry for taking your place for so long.” She looked wretched, but I knew it wasn’t an act. She had wanted to move out for a while. It was my parents who wouldn’t let her. This time, my father didn’t try to stop her. He just let out a long, defeated sigh. My mother, however, clung to Stella, both of them sobbing in a heart-wrenching embrace. That night, Stella vanished from the house. A massive weight lifted from my chest, replaced by a giddy sense of triumph. I didn’t care about the strange looks the maids gave me. In fact, right in front of them, I marched to the refrigerator, pulled out every single box of strawberries, and dumped them in the trash. “I hate strawberries,” I announced to the room. “From now on, I don’t want to see a single strawberry in this house. In fact, I don’t want to see anything that belonged to Stella. Get rid of it all.” The staff didn’t dare cross me again. They cleared out Stella’s belongings with record speed. It was a victory. Ever since I’d arrived, they’d looked at me with mocking eyes, whispering behind my back that I could never measure up to Stella. They jumped to do her bidding, but treated my requests as an afterthought. After Stella was gone, I reveled in my freedom for a while. But seeing the joy drain from my parents’ faces, a slow, creeping anxiety began to set in. So, I tried to win them over. I started mimicking Stella. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. If I had grown up here, I would have been the one doing all those things anyway. I thought I could replace her. And I worked tirelessly at it. I learned the complex art of tea ceremonies that my father loved, and the elegant flower arranging my mother adored. On top of that, I had my regular studies. I was sleeping less than six hours a night. But it was all a pathetic illusion. An illusion shattered by a property deed. Since my return, I had acquired a host of enemies. The other debutantes looked down on me, their insults a constant barrage of thinly veiled contempt. Stella’s old rival was the worst. “I never liked how stuck-up Stella was,” she’d sneered at me, “but compared to a piece of trash like you dragging down our social circle, she was a damn queen.” I had been furious. So after I kicked Stella out, the next time the girl came at me, I threw it in her face. “No matter what, a fake is still a fake. You really think some cuckoo in the nest is better than the real thing?” She just laughed. “Oh, you poor, stupid girl.” Then she told me the truth. My parents had bought Stella a sprawling luxury apartment downtown. And all those nights they claimed to be busy with work, they were at that apartment, playing happy family with her. “You idiot. You thought you kicked her out, but all you did was gift her a multi-million dollar condo. You got one of those? Oh, that’s right, you don’t even have parents anymore. They’re off building a new family without you.”

3 I didn’t want to believe it. But a cold knot of dread in my stomach told me it was probably true. When I found the property deed in my father’s study, signed over to Stella Garver, my reason snapped. I stormed over to the address like a wife catching a cheating husband. When Stella opened the door, I shoved past her and burst inside. And there they were. My parents, who had told me they were on a business trip, sitting in the warm, cozy living room. My elegant mother was wearing an apron, carrying a platter of steaming food. My father was on the sofa, watching the evening news. The moment they saw me, their faces changed. I gritted my teeth. “Sorry to interrupt your little family reunion.” The sense of betrayal was a tidal wave, drowning me. “A multi-million dollar apartment. How generous! I thought you said she was going back to where she belonged.” My father cleared his throat, his expression turning grave. “We had no choice, Zoe. You lived in that place for sixteen years. You know what it’s like. For Stella to go back there… it would be like sending her to hell.” Hell? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “That’s because she was born in hell. What’s that got to do with me? I know, you think I’m not as graceful or as kind as she is. I’m calculating, petty, selfish—I have all the ugly traits of someone who clawed their way out of poverty. But did I ever have a chance to be like her?” My adoptive parents—Stella’s biological parents—were the laziest couple in our town. They never worked, never earned a cent, just leeched off their own parents. When their kids got old enough, they started leeching off us. By the time I was four, I was out with my older sister, scavenging for scrap metal just to have enough to eat. A few years later, I was in a factory, my small hands working day and night. I learned to fight over every last penny, to never let anyone take advantage of me. I’m sixteen now, but I’m barely five feet tall. I only just got my first period. The family doctor said I was severely malnourished, my growth permanently stunted. “You feel sorry for her, for being sent to hell?” My voice cracked. “Why don’t you feel sorry for me? The place you call hell is where I spent sixteen years of my life!” Even if they had sent Stella back, she would have had it better than I did. They would have given her money. She was old enough now, she could have endured it for a couple of years, gotten into college, and escaped those parents for good. Stella just stood there, biting her lip, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” My mother finally broke. “What more do you want? Yes, yes, you suffered! But whose fault is that? Do you think I wanted my child to grow up in poverty? Do you think I enjoyed raising someone else’s daughter? Fate played a cruel joke, letting you be born from my body only to live a life of misery. Maybe… maybe you were just born into the wrong fate. Stella was destined for a good life, and you were destined for…” She trailed off, her lips trembling. I finished her sentence for her. “To be worthless?”