The day my acceptance letter to Stanford arrived, I was in the village feeding chickens. The entire village celebrated with gongs and drums. Along with them came a couple I’d only ever seen on TV: the wealthiest couple in the country. Tears streamed down their faces as they hugged me. “Our dear child, we’re your real parents!” Just as I was about to call them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ a string of text appeared in the sky, like a spectral comment feed: [The side character actually thinks she’s hit the jackpot. She’s just going back to be a living blood bag.] [If she hadn't gotten into Stanford, proving her excellent constitution, she wouldn't even qualify as a blood bag.] [Even though the main character, our sweet baby, is the fake heiress, she’s kinder and smarter. Now she’ll recover quickly and get all lovey-dovey with her handsome, wealthy fiancé~] The chickens clucked at my feet. I looked down at my own chapped, rough, dark hands. And then, with all the strength I could muster, I called out, “Mom! Dad!” and got into the car with them. You think I made it from the rural heartlands to Stanford on luck alone? Think again. 1. I stood before the villa, waiting for a servant to bring me a new pair of shoes. After a while, I gave up and walked inside. Of course. No one was getting me shoes. My new parents were busy comforting a girl who was crying a river of tears. A Samoyed in a frilly dress wagged its tail and nuzzled against her. For a moment, I thought of my own dog, Rusty, who I’d raised from a pup. He was caught and eaten one night while helping my grandpa carry firewood. “Kimberley, why did you come in by yourself? Didn’t I tell you to wait?” My mother spotted me, a flash of annoyance in her red-rimmed eyes. My father’s voice was cold. “Kimberley, you need to learn some manners. You can’t bring your crude country habits here.” Well, that was fast. I hadn’t done a thing, and I was already labeled. “It’s over a hundred degrees outside. I waited for forty-seven minutes, which is beyond what most people can endure.” I gestured to my sweat-soaked clothes, my lips pale and colorless. “It looks like you’ll be busy comforting her for a while longer. I just wonder, if I hadn’t come in on my own, would an ambulance have had to carry me away?” They were speechless. A flicker of guilt crossed my mother’s face. Just as she was about to ask a servant to get me a glass of water, the girl the spectral comments called the “main character,” Stella Sterling, spoke up, biting her lip. “Mom and Dad came in first to check on me because I was upset. It’s all my fault. Please don’t be hard on them. I didn’t realize my sister would rather stand outside than come in and see me. This is all my fault…” She choked back a sob, her eyes brimming with tears as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. “Stella, sweetie, it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who have wronged you,” my mother said, the guilt in her eyes vanishing. She handed Stella a tissue and shot me a cold look. “There’s no need to be so dramatic. Why are you being so passive-aggressive with Stella? She grew up away from her real parents. She’s had it a thousand times harder than you and deserves all our love and care.” A large tear splashed onto the floor. A manipulative adopted daughter and willfully blind parents. Just my luck. “Fine. I’m sorry,” I said, my apology crisp and clean. I turned and walked away. After all, I didn’t come to this house to fight for their affection. 2. Since I was back with my real family, a monthly allowance of a few tens of thousands shouldn’t be too much to ask for the daughter of a billionaire, right? I pictured scenes from TV shows as I happily accepted the card for my living expenses from the butler. “Miss, you will receive eight hundred dollars a month on this card.” I froze. For a second, I wanted to walk back outside to make sure I was in the right house. I was the biological daughter of the richest man in the state. His company was worth billions, and this villa alone was supposedly worth hundreds of millions. “What do you mean? The Sterlings are this rich, and they’re only giving me eight hundred a month?” The butler bowed politely again. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Miss. You mustn’t be too extravagant.” I fought to keep my temper in check. “What about my college scholarship? I remember Mom and Dad taking my card with the six hundred thousand dollars on it.” That card held not just the prize money I’d earned from every academic competition from the village to the state level, but also the compensation for my grandfather’s death in a construction accident. The butler looked uneasy, stammering, unable to give a clear answer. A voice came from behind me. “I was the one who asked them to take it, sister.” In the short time I’d been there, Stella had changed into another gown, this one adorned with enormous, very real-looking jewels. The spectral comments appeared again: [OMG my baby’s new dress is gorgeous! A true masterpiece from a famous French designer.] [If I remember correctly, that dress costs exactly six hundred thousand. They used Kimberley’s card. Is that really okay?] [What’s the big deal? She’s just a side character. She’ll be gone in a month anyway. If Stella doesn’t spend the money now, it’ll be hers eventually.] “Sister,” Stella said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “I just thought, since you came from a small place, you’ve never seen so much money and wouldn’t know how to use it. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to adjust.” “Eight hundred isn’t a small amount. Many poor students don’t even have that much. You can’t just forget the struggles of the common folk now that you’re with us.” “Also, the cups in this house are very expensive. I was worried your rough farm hands might break them, so I had them all replaced with paper cups for you.” She turned to leave, but I blocked her way and held out my hand. “Give me my money back, or I’m calling the police.” Stella glared at me, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard, but I grabbed her wrist, my voice rising. “Did you hear me? Give me back my money!” Stella, having been pampered her whole life, burst into tears at my rough treatment. Her sobs were so loud that my parents rushed upstairs. “What’s wrong? Kimberley, are you bullying Stella again?” My mother’s eyes were practically shooting fire. “Stella is fragile! Do you hate her so much that you want to push her to her death?!” Without a second thought, she slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side. I tasted blood. I swallowed and said calmly, “Stella took my six hundred thousand dollars and bought this dress. That money includes the compensation for my grandfather’s life. I just want it back.” My words made her frantic. “Who said I bought this with your money? Mom and Dad love me so much, they give me a huge allowance every month. Why would I want your pathetic little bit of cash?” I looked her straight in the eye. “Then tell me, which account did you use to buy this dress? Six hundred thousand is not a small amount. There has to be a record.” “You… Why should I have to prove anything to you? I bought this dress with my own money!” Stella’s face was red with panic. My parents, seeing this, understood who was in the right. But their bias was strong. They turned to me with stern faces. “It’s just a little money. Is it worth making such a scene and disregarding family ties? Apologize to Stella right now.” “Didn’t we give you a card with three million dollars on it? You shouldn’t be so greedy. Even if your sister took the money, you should have let her have it. We have not wronged you in the slightest!” I laughed and held up the card in my hand. “The butler just told me I’d be getting eight hundred a month on this card. For a second, I thought the family had gone bankrupt. Where is this three million? I certainly haven’t seen it.” My father’s eyes narrowed. The butler immediately panicked. “Sir, it… it was Miss Stella who told me to do that. The three million was transferred to her card…” My parents’ faces tightened. But before they could say anything, Stella let out a piercing scream. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, and collapsed to the floor. 3. It was a tired, old trick, a madwoman’s performance for an audience of fools. But after Stella was “weakly” rushed to the hospital, I did get my money back. As I turned to leave, my mother suddenly called out to me. “Kimberley,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Take this money and buy yourself some nice clothes at the mall. If there’s anything else you want, just let us know.” “Oh, and do you like jewelry? You can pick whatever you like from my room.” I was still puzzling over her sudden change of heart when the spectral comments appeared again: [This money is just to ease their conscience. After all, in thirty days, the side character will be on the operating table for our main character.] [This surgery has assembled top experts from home and abroad. Failure is not an option. They will drain the side character dry if they have to. This couple has no intention of letting her survive.] Thirty days. Wasn’t that the day before I was supposed to start college? The spectral comments, oddly enough, brought me a sense of relief. If that was their plan, then I could proceed with my own without any hesitation. I immediately went to my mother’s bedroom, opened her jewelry cabinet, and began a frenzied shopping spree. I picked the heaviest gold necklaces, filled all ten fingers with rings, chose the largest gemstones, and made sure not a single wrist or ankle was left bare. Satisfied, I returned to my room, took out my own safe, and stashed everything inside. I had enough money. Now I just needed to wait for the right time to escape. I immediately contacted a real estate agent to buy a house in the city, then fell into a deep, contented sleep. That evening, my parents threw a small welcome dinner for me. As I finished my makeup and prepared to go downstairs, I heard voices from the landing. “Stella, your parents are so biased. They already have you, why did they have to bring that country bumpkin back? It’s just asking for trouble.” “It’s obvious that Kimberley girl is just a gold digger. You need to be careful she doesn’t run off with all the money.” I peeked through a crack in the door. Stella was standing on the stairs with a few other young men and women, her face a mask of practiced sorrow. A boy with short, silver hair and strikingly handsome features put his arm around her shoulder, his voice loud and clear. “I’d like to see which hick dares to take what belongs to Stella. They must have a death wish.” So this was him. The ridiculously wealthy, arrogant heir the comments mentioned, Liam Vanderbilt. Just like my parents, his eyes were bad, and his brain wasn't much better. No wonder he couldn’t get into Stanford. I waited patiently for them to finish trash-talking me before I opened the door and walked out. The air went silent. The girls wrinkled their noses, letting out soft, disdainful snorts. But the boys’ eyes were wide with surprise. Especially the silver-haired one. His gaze was glued to me. My father had been handsome in his youth, and after making his fortune, he married my mother, a famous actress. I had inherited the best of both of them. It was just that years of farm work had tanned my skin, a stark contrast to the pale, delicate complexions of these rich kids. “You must be Stella’s newly found sister?” he said, his tone surprisingly soft and gentle. “I heard you were the top scholar in our province this year and got into Stanford.” “My sister grew up in the countryside, you know,” Stella said, stepping between Liam and me, a flash of jealousy in her eyes. “She had nothing to do but study. I envy her for having so much time. I, on the other hand, have been swamped with lessons in tea ceremony, flower arrangement, and equestrianism since I was little. If I had even a tenth of my sister’s dedication, I probably would have gotten into Stanford too.” She pouted, her voice full of feigned regret. “I really envy you, sister.” I had to laugh. “You envy me? You wake up whenever you want and have a chauffeur drive you to school, while I have to get up at four in the morning and walk four hours on a mountain path. You have eggs, ham, and sandwiches for breakfast, a different meal every day, while I have to make do with a scoop of lard mixed with rice. You have so many extracurricular activities, while I have nothing but studying and farm work. Do you have any idea what it’s like to carry a shoulder pole heavier than yourself on a mountain path?” “Stella, this life you have was supposed to be mine. You’ve been living in my place for so long, and now you have the gall to play the victim? What kind of act are you putting on?” 4. That manipulative little act of hers was no match for a brain. My barrage of words left her speechless. She stared at me, wide-eyed, then stomped her foot in frustration, on the verge of tears. But Liam, standing behind her, was looking at me with admiration. “Kimberley, I had no idea you’d been through so much. You’re not like any other girl I’ve met.” I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t going to fall for some cliché "arrogant rich boy falls for the poor but plucky girl" storyline. I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard the crude chatter of the other boys. “She’s a little tan, but her features are interesting. And that body…” “Hahaha, you have some weird tastes. I didn’t know you were into country girls.” But Liam threw a punch. “Shut up. What have I always told you? Don’t talk about girls like that.” I found it all so boring. I’d rather be doing a practice exam. Soon, the banquet began. My parents sat beside Stella, urging her to eat more, as if she were the guest of honor, afraid of neglecting her in the slightest. “Stella, have some of this braised shark fin. It’s your favorite,” my father said, placing a piece on her plate. “And drink more soup. It’s good for your stomach and your skin,” my mother added, ladling a bowl of red date and white fungus soup for her. I lowered my head and mechanically ate the seafood porridge in front of me, feeling like a complete stranger. “What’s wrong?” Liam’s voice came from above me, startling me. He was sitting across from me, his eyes on me. I finally snapped back to reality. “Are you talking to me?” I froze. Suddenly, my arm started to itch. I looked down and saw a red rash breaking out. An allergic reaction. My throat was swelling up, and the terrifying sensation of suffocation began to set in. I realized then that all the dishes had been sprinkled with chopped cilantro. I pushed my chair back abruptly. “You’ve seen my medical report. I’m allergic to cilantro. I need to go to the hospital right now!” “Sister.” Stella blocked my path, her grip surprisingly strong, her eyes filled with tears. “We went to so much trouble to throw this welcome dinner for you. There was nothing wrong with your medical report. I know you just don’t like this ingredient. If you don’t like it, you could have just said so. But this is our gesture of goodwill…” Her nails dug into my skin. She bit her lip. “Sister, there are so many guests here tonight. If you just walk out like this, have you considered how it will make our family look? If you’re unhappy, you can take it out on me in private. You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want…” I felt like I was about to pass out. My father’s eyes turned cold. “Our family doesn’t tolerate liars. Don’t use these tactics to get what you want. I won’t stand for this kind of behavior!” A burning sensation was spreading through my throat. I tried to speak, but no words would come out. I tried to gesture, but Stella, sensing my intent, grabbed my hand. “Sister, please don’t make things difficult for me. I truly want to be good sisters with you. I don’t know why you have such a prejudice against me.” She sobbed. Even her friends were starting to notice something was wrong. “I don’t know, she looks like she’s about to faint. I don’t think she’s faking.” “Ignore her. She’s just putting on a show. She needs to learn her lesson.” My mother didn’t even look at me. In the end, it was Liam who forced his way through, scooped me up in his arms, pushed Stella aside, and drove me to the hospital. As my consciousness faded, I was transported back to my childhood. I’d accidentally eaten cilantro at a neighbor’s house and had an allergic reaction. Grandpa had come running, his face red with panic, and carried me to the village clinic. He had just come back from the fields and didn’t know it was an allergy. He thought I was gravely ill. All the way there, his voice trembled as he prayed. “Oh, merciful heavens, take my life in exchange for my granddaughter’s. Please, protect her. Let nothing happen to Kimberley. If you must take someone, take me…” After that, Grandpa was incredibly careful about my food. Even when I went to boarding school in town, he would walk for a day and a night to get there. He would stand before my teacher, his back bent, and say with the utmost sincerity, “I’m sorry to bother you, teacher. Kimberley is allergic to cilantro. She can’t eat it. Please, could you keep an eye on her?” After the teacher nodded, the wrinkles around Grandpa’s eyes would smooth out. He would press his palms together and repeat, his voice full of gratitude, “Thank you so much, teacher. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” He would leave with his woven bag, filled with the potatoes the teachers had refused, and walk for hours to a construction site to work. … Carrying a hundred-pound bag of cement up eight flights of stairs earned him four dollars. When he climbed the stairs, his palms were practically flat against the floor, pushing himself up step by step under the foreman’s urging. Then he would say, with sincere humility, “Thank you, boss.” During my school breaks, I would sneak off to help him carry cement, and I developed a severe back problem at a young age. What could four dollars buy? A single lunch for me during my school days. And what could two hundred thousand dollars buy? The life my grandfather lost when he fell from a high-rise due to a safety oversight at that same construction site. … When I first arrived at the Sterling house, I stood outside under the scorching sun for forty-seven minutes. I just wanted to know what my grandfather must have felt. Money really is a wonderful thing. It can buy everything a poor person has: dignity, life. “Kimberley, don’t cry. It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise…” Liam’s voice pulled me back to reality. He was clumsily wiping away my tears. And until he brought me to the hospital, my so-called parents never showed up.
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