Watching them act like this was a matter of life and death, I couldn’t help but laugh. “All I asked was whether she was my foster mother’s daughter. Why are you all so agitated?”

My words left them speechless. They looked at one another, realizing just how over-the-top their reaction had been.

My mother forced an awkward smile. “Michaela, I’ve prepared a room for you. Why don’t we go and see if there’s anything you need?”

“Sister, I bought you a lot of beautiful dresses. I hope you’ll like them,” Lyra added, her eyes still watery.

“Yes, she knew you were coming today, so she went out of her way to pick out some clothes for you. You’re about the same age, I’m sure you’ll like them,” said my mother, as she led me to the room they’d prepared.

The room was adorable, clearly decorated with care. But the only table was a vanity, not a desk. And the closet? It was packed with light pink mini dresses.

Light pink mini dresses… on my sun-darkened, rough skin and dry, yellowish hair? Anywhere I went in those clothes, I’d look absolutely ridiculous.

Lyra had definitely put in some effort.

“My sister picked these out specially for you. Why don’t you try one on?” said Julian, a sly glint in his eyes. Was he just being childish… or was someone pulling his strings?

Seeing me unmoved, Lyra picked up a frilly pink dress and handed it to me. “Sister, pink really suits girls. Give it a try?”

“Yes, why not try one?” Mom said, although her eyes hesitated. She seemed to know those clothes weren’t right for me, but she didn’t want to upset Lyra either.

I shook my head. “These dresses are lovely, but they’re not right for me. Let’s return them.”

“Sister… do you hate me that much?” Lyra’s voice cracked again. “I know you don’t like me being here… I… I…”

I hadn’t expected her to be this skilled at playing the poor little victim. She could squeeze out tears without eye drops. She really missed her calling as an actress.

“Why are you bullying my sister? You just got here and you’re already being mean to her. How can we get along like this?” Julian’s voice was full of resentment.

“Brother, stop… I know I’m not good enough…” Lyra whimpered again.

I stared at them calmly. “So what you’re saying is… I don’t even have the right to say no?”

“You…” Julian faltered, not knowing what to say.

“Enough, enough, that’s enough!” My mother rushed in to ease the tension. She turned to me. “Michaela, of course you can say no. But… Mom just wants to know, why don’t you like the clothes?”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and pant legs, revealing the ugly scars that covered my arms and legs.

When my mother saw them, she froze, tears instantly welling up. “How did this happen… Did they do this to you?” She moved closer, her fingers trembling as they traced the scars. “Does it still hurt?”

I nodded slowly, watching my mother’s sincere expression. Her concern brought a strange warmth to my chest.

“Don’t worry. Mom will find the best specialists to help remove these scars.” She gently pulled down my sleeves again. “And I’ll buy you new clothes—ones you really like.”

My brother, Julian, looked shocked. The sight of those harsh scars had clearly shaken him. He stammered, “I… I didn’t know you had… I really didn’t know…”

Behind him, Lyra stood silently. Her eyes darkened, a shadow of hatred flickering beneath them.

Because of the scars, our parents soon learned about the abuse I had suffered growing up. The next day, they arranged for a top-tier medical team to examine me and create a treatment plan.

When the doctors told us most of the scars could be treated and faded over time, my mother finally relaxed. The constant tension on her face softened.

“My daughter… I never imagined you had endured such cruelty,” she whispered, her eyes brimming again.

I wasn’t used to being treated so gently. It made me feel… strange. But I still tried to reassure her. “This wasn’t your fault, Mother. You didn’t do this.”

After my mother left, Lyra showed up.

“What’s the point of healing those scars?” she sneered. “You’re still just a country bumpkin. Do you really think you can enter high society? With your looks, what rich young man would ever look at you?” She tossed her hair, letting her diamond necklace catch the light.

So, she liked drama and competition too. Pity I wasn’t interested.

“What’s the point of dressing up so well?” I replied coolly. “You’re still just an imposter.”

Bullseye.

Her face fell instantly and just like that, my mood improved.

Lyra scoffed, eyes flashing with venom. “So what if I’m not the real daughter? I’ll prove to you that they’re on my side. Oh, by the way, tomorrow is my birthday. Do you know what they’re giving me? Take a guess.”

I didn’t feel like answering her. But I was curious.

The maids had mentioned that the Sterling Family once said they would give Lyra 3% of the company’s shares on her 18th birthday.

Ever since learning I was Sterling, I had been investigating them. The Sterling Group was booming. Their stock price was only going to rise.

That kind of wealth? That was real.

As for the baby swap, I didn’t blame Lyra. It was her mother who had orchestrated it. If Lyra wanted to continue living her lavish life through their affection, fine.

But if she wanted to compete with me for the inheritance?

Then she had better prepare for war.

To me, money meant survival. Because I earned money, my foster family stopped beating me, after all, if I got hurt, I couldn’t work. Because I won scholarships, they reluctantly let me stay in school. Because I sold goods at the market and saved money for my foster mother’s son’s tuition, they didn’t force me to marry an old bachelor for a dowry.

Money saved me once.

It will save me again.

Money means everything to me, especially the company shares that rightfully belong to me!

That evening, I went to find my mother in her bedroom.

“Mom, will I be transferring to a new school?” I asked, looking at her curiously.

“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “Your father has already made the arrangements. He thought enrolling you right away might be too overwhelming, so he decided to wait a couple more days before sending you.”

As she spoke, her gaze shifted to the scars on my exposed arm and her smile faded.

“Then… could you help arrange some tutoring classes for me?” I asked earnestly. “I’m worried I won’t be able to keep up with the new school’s pace.”

Upon hearing my concern, she nodded. “I heard you’ve always done well in school and even earned scholarships. If you want tutoring, I’ll set it up. But I don’t want you living a life filled with pressure. You should relax every now and then.”

She took my hand gently. “How about we take your sister with us tomorrow and go for a spa treatment? She loves beauty treatments and skincare.”

I nodded and glanced at the business card on the table. It read: Evelyn Sterling.

“So… Mom’s name is Evelyn Sterling,” I murmured.

“Yes,” she replied with a soft smile and a nod.

“Is ‘Ellie’ your childhood nickname?” I asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know that?” she asked, clearly startled. “Who told you? Almost no one knows that nickname.”

Of course. Very few people knew her childhood nickname—except for the nanny, who was also her cousin. She used to call my mother “Ellie” back then.

Over time, I’d pieced together bits of information. I knew that my parents had once planned to press charges against the nanny’s family, but due to the pleas of Mom’s relatives, they let it go.

“It was… my foster mother. She never told me outright. But I remember, when I was about eight, she took me to a dog breeder’s farm and said, ‘Ellie’s daughter is going to be a mother mutt.’ I didn’t understand it then. I thought it was just a name. But later… I realized what she meant.”

My mother’s face turned ghostly pale.

“What… What are you saying?” she stuttered. Her hands trembled. “She took you to a dog kennel to… to do what?”