Chapter 1

Giles Wentworth and I had been together for many years. Even after he found out I wasn't the real heiress, he insisted his love had always been for me, not my identity.

But on the day of our engagement, in front of a hundred guests, he yanked his hand away from mine and slid the ring onto Isla Harrington's finger.

With a cruel smirk, he sneered, "And you thought a fraud like you deserved to be engaged to me? The one I was always meant to marry is Isla."

So I let them have each other. Right there, I announced I'd be with Lucas Fairchild, the illegitimate son of the soon-to-be-bankrupt Fairchild family.

They all thought I'd lost my mind.

But later, on the day of my wedding to Lucas, Giles showed up, holding the very ring that was once meant for me, begging me not to marry him.

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One month before my engagement to Giles, my foster parents found their long-lost biological daughter, Isla.

I had to admit, she'd inherited my mother Beatrice's beauty. Even in plain clothes, her features were delicate and refined.

We met for the first time at Harrington Manor. She looked at me with open hostility, wearing the airs of a rightful lady of the house. Pointing straight at me, she said,

"Mom, Dad, now that your real daughter is back, shouldn't she be the one to leave?"

Reginald and Beatrice looked stricken.

"Isla," Reginald said gently, "we know you've suffered all these years, and we're so sorry. But you must understand, Molly's birth parents have passed away. From now on, can't you treat each other like sisters?"

"No," Isla snapped. "Why should I? She's stolen my life for years. Now that I'm back, she should get out of this house. I'm your real daughter, aren't I?"

I stood silently to the side. I didn't blame her for her resentment. It was understandable.

But Reginald's face darkened. He raised his voice.

"That's enough. Yes, you're our daughter by blood. But Molly is also our daughter—we raised her. If there's anyone to blame, it's us for not protecting you. Molly has nothing to do with it. From now on, we'll do everything we can to make it up to you. But we won't cast her out."

Isla realized she'd pushed too far. She sulked off to her room without another word.

That evening, I told Giles what had happened. I didn't want to keep secrets from him.

He paused for a moment, then replied in a voice softer than I'd ever heard,

"Molly, the one I've always loved is you. Your background doesn't matter to me."

I was touched. After all, the Wentworths had always cared about pedigree.

Then Giles came to the manor and saw Isla.

She adjusted quickly to her new life, hiring a professional stylist to tailor her wardrobe and makeup. She looked every bit the highborn lady. Compared to her, my style was more polished and businesslike—less delicate, more composed.

When she saw Giles, she rushed up and clung to his arm, as if they were already close. Reginald and Beatrice gave her several looks of disapproval, but she ignored them completely.

"Giles," she said sweetly, "technically, I should be the one marrying you. I mean, I'm the Harrington family's real daughter, after all. But alas... you're marrying my sister instead. Even though she's adopted, I still wish you both happiness."

Giles looked uncomfortable, but didn't shake her off. Isla clung tighter and eventually pestered him for his contact details, which he gave her without protest.

From then on, whenever Giles was present, Isla would put on a show.

Once, she slapped herself in front of him and claimed I'd hit her.

Another time, at a party, she jumped into the pool fully clothed, then cried that I'd pushed her in.

Or on a rainy day, she ran into the street, soaking wet, called Giles in tears, and told him I'd kicked her out of the house.

Each lie was more absurd than the last.

But Giles believed them all.

He said I was jealous, that I was cruel. After trying to explain myself once and failing, I stopped trying altogether.

Maybe I believed too much in our relationship. Or maybe I just believed too much in myself.

I never took Isla's antics seriously. To me, the engagement was already settled. No matter how she acted out, I thought she was just venting years of bitterness.

She wanted to switch bedrooms with me—I agreed.

She wanted my designer handbags, jewellery, and clothes—I gave them to her.

Everything I liked, she wanted, too.

Including Giles.