My best friend and I were the infamous "double trouble" of the orphanage—two little she-demons everyone knew to stay away from.

I had a sharp tongue that could make people cry, while she had fists that could make them regret ever crossing us. Between my venomous mouth and her terrifying right hook, not a single kid—or even the guard dog—dared to mess with us. When we walked by, even that big mutt would tuck its tail and slink along the wall.

When we were eight years old, crouched in a corner poking at an anthill, the headmistress walked over with a well-dressed couple.

They said my best friend was the real daughter of the powerful Lambert family—the richest family in the city—and they'd come to take her home.

But my best friend refused to go without me.

She sat on the ground, kicking her legs and wailing, "If it weren't for Yanna all these years, I'd have been bullied to death! If you don't adopt her too, I'm not going anywhere!"

I tossed aside my little stick, put on my sweetest smile, and ran up to the couple.

"Hello, Uncle and Auntie! I'm the most well-behaved and obedient child in the whole orphanage. Adopting me is definitely a good deal~"

The headmistress's face twitched violently—like she'd just swallowed a mouthful of flies.

Well-behaved? Obedient?

Did we even hear ourselves?

Maybe afraid that we'd both stay and continue wreaking havoc, the headmistress shut her eyes and made a decision that probably went against every ancestral rule of her forebears.

——

"Mr. and Mrs. Lambert," she said quickly, "Carmela and Yanna are the best girls we have here. They're inseparable—why not adopt both?"

The couple hesitated.

"It's not that we mind raising one more child," Aunt Laura said gently, "but... we already have an adopted daughter at home."

My best friend and I exchanged sharp looks.

An adopted daughter?

So a fake heiress?

Absolutely not! I wouldn't let my best friend walk into that snake pit alone.

I clasped my hands and looked up at them earnestly. "Uncle, Auntie, if you take Carmela away by herself, she might get depressed—or worse, do something silly. But if you bring me along, I'll make sure she's happy and well!"

The couple visibly shuddered at my words, and my best friend quickly followed up by bursting into tears.

"Yes! If you don't agree, I'll hang myself at your front gate tonight—wahhh!"

Her words terrified them, and immediately surrendered on the spot.

Aunt Laura sighed, smiling helplessly at me. "All right, we'll bring you too. But remember—there's already another girl at home..."

"Don't worry, Mom!" I said sweetly. "I'll get along great with my little sister!"

The headmistress was so moved she nearly cried tears of joy and relief. She looked like she wanted to wave a flag to send us off.

"Wonderful! Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Lambert on gaining two precious daughters!"

As the couple went to handle the adoption paperwork, I grabbed my best friend's hand, eyes sparkling.

"Carmela, you're the best! You didn't forget our promise to share riches and mischief together!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I just didn't want you to get beaten to death the second I left."

I cackled. "Love you, bestie! That fake heiress didn't come today—bet she doesn't want you home. If she's really a scheming little girl, I'll handle her for you!"

For years, our unbeatable combo had ruled the orphanage—I'd spit venom while she threw punches. Together, we were unstoppable.

But when it came to manipulative girls, my poor best friend had zero experience.

She squeezed my hand back, eyes glimmering. "Bestie, my future rich life depends on you!"

"Relax," I grinned. "I've got this."

When Uncle John and Aunt Laura returned, they found us holding hands, smiling like angels.

"You two really do seem close," she said warmly. "That puts our minds at ease."

On the ride to their mansion, Aunt Laura explained their family situation.

Aside from the "adopted" daughter—Trisha, the fake heiress—my best friend also had a brother, two years older than her.

She'd gone missing when she was three. And apparently, her brother had been the reason she got lost in the first place.

He hadn't even come to pick her up today, which said plenty about how 'thrilled' he was to have her back.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the Lambert residence, the first thing we saw was a tall, cold-faced boy standing at the gate, arms crossed, eyes shadowed like storm clouds.

And that was our welcome home.

When my best friend and I held hands and called him "Brother," Kian's expression cracked like shattered glass.

"You adopted another one?" he snapped.

The moment he learned I was just a foster child with no inheritance rights, he relaxed a little, his arrogance returning.

"I'm warning you—don't you dare bully my sister. Otherwise, don't blame me for being rude!"

I immediately ducked behind my best friend, clutching her sleeve with trembling hands, speaking in timid voice.

"Carmela, why is your brother so biased? If he'd protected you like this back then, you wouldn't have suffered in the orphanage all these years..."

The implication was clear—you lost your real sister, made her live like an orphan, and now you're acting high and mighty defending the fake one?

Sure enough, Uncle John and Aunt Laura's faces darkened instantly.

Kian opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, I pinched my friend's waist sharply.

She got the message right away and burst into tears, covering her face dramatically.

"Since Brother doesn't like me, I'll just go back to the orphanage! Come on, Yanna, let's go!"

Uncle John panicked. His hand came down hard and smacked Kian right across his cheek. "Idiot! Is this how you welcome your sister? Get out of my sight!"

Kian glared at us, clutching his face, too humiliated to talk back.

My friend and I exchanged a victorious look.

We won the first battle!

But just as we stepped through the door, we froze.

There she was—the fake daughter, Trisha—standing on a stool, rope tied to the chandelier, crying as she prepared to hang herself.

Oh, please. A pity act already?

Before anyone else could react, I charged forward and shouted, "How dare you! Who told you it's okay to swing indoors?!"

My best friend slid in with a perfect tackle, kicking both the stool and the girl off balance.

Before Trisha could even loop the rope around her neck, she tumbled to the floor in a most ungraceful heap.

"Ah!" she screamed, clutching her arm as everyone rushed toward her.

When the family saw the rope and stool, their faces turned ashen with alarm.

"Trisha, what on earth were you doing?" Aunt Laura cried.

Trisha looked up through her tears, trembling and pitiful. "Big Sister, it's all my fault... I've stolen your place for so many years and made you suffer. I just wanted to repay you with my life!"

She sobbed harder, gazing at Aunt Laura and Uncle John. "Please don't blame Mom, Dad, or Brother. From now on, take good care of them for me, okay?"

Aunt Laura's eyes reddened as she pulled the girl into her arms.

"Don't be silly, child. In our hearts, you'll always be our daughter too."

"You idiot! This has nothing to do with you." Kian turned to glare daggers at us. "Let's see who dares to blame you?"

Meanwhile, Trisha, nestled in Aunt Laura's embrace, cast me a teary but triumphant look from over her shoulder.

Bingo. A classic manipulative "scheming little flower"—playing the victim while throwing shade.

Too bad she picked the wrong opponent.

I smiled sweetly and unleashed my venom.

"So this is the adopted daughter, Trisha? My apologies! For a moment, I thought someone was actually swinging inside the house."

I tilted my head. "By the way, you were trying to hang yourself, weren't you? But who uses a crystal chandelier for that? And what's with that slipknot that loosens the second you tug it? Careful, dear—you might survive the fall but take someone else down with you!"

My best friend clapped her hands, pretending to realize something.

"She's right! That's really dangerous. Good thing I—uh—acted quickly with my foot."

Everyone looked up, noticing the precarious chandelier and the shoddy knot.

Uncle John's face turned black as thunder. "Enough nonsense! What if you hurt your sister?!"

Seeing her act crumble, Trisha sniffled, forcing out another round of sobs.

"I'm sorry, Sister... I just wanted to atone..."

I folded my arms and smiled thinly. "Sister? You must be mistaken. I'm your foster sister. She—" I pushed my best friend forward "—is your real sister. You should be apologizing to her."

That shut her up for half a second—until Kian stormed forward, shielding her like a knight defending his lady.

"Dad! Trisha only wanted to make up for her mistakes! It's Carmela and Yanna who made her fall—they have no manners at all!"

My temper flared instantly.

Damn it—insult me all you want, but insult my best friend? Absolutely not!

"Brother," I said sweetly, "I get that you're trying to play the overprotective hero, but could you at least think before you open that mouth of yours?"

"You're saying Carmela has no manners? Who lost her back then, huh? You did! You're the reason she grew up in an orphanage, and you dare call her uneducated?"

"She's the real daughter of this house—her identity was stolen by your precious little thief. Tell me, where's the logic in that?"

"Honestly, the way you talk, it's like your intestines connect directly to your brain. Even a dung beetle would need to pop open your skull just to check the flavor!"

The room went dead silent.

Only my best friend squeezed my hand, eyes glistening. "Bestie, I love you!"

Kian's face turned a dangerous shade of blue. His voice dropped, shaking with anger.

"You—you dared to insult me?!"

"So what if I did?" I shot back. "I'm not done—I'll insult her too!"

I planted my hands on my hips and turned to glare at Trisha. "And you—stop pretending you're some precious gem. Even a trash bag couldn't contain all that fake sincerity you're spilling."

"Didn't you say you were too unwell to get out of bed? Funny—when you were about to hang yourself just now, you looked full of energy!"

"Let me guess—the ‘sickness' came the moment Carmela came home? You just couldn't stand not being the only little princess anymore, right?"

My words hit her squarely in the heart. She tried to argue, but I cut her off mercilessly.

"Fake sickness, fake suicide, fake tears—what's next? You think my best friend asked you to ‘repent'? You're both daughters of this family, so why are you the only one acting like you've got brain damage?"

Her face turned pale as paper. "Y-you—you—"

I laughed coldly. "You what, you? Why are you stuttering? Go see a doctor, and if your brain's malfunctioning, try reading a book!"

Unable to fight back, she reverted to her favorite act—the helpless, delicate flower routine.

"Carmela, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. I was just scared you'd hate me."

Then she looked at me pitifully. "Yanna, if you want to scold someone, scold me. Just don't take it out on my brother and parents."

There it was again. Same act, zero creativity.

I was too lazy to keep sparring with her, so I turned to the stunned Lambert couple. "I heard we'll be in the same class as our dear sister?"

They both nodded quickly.

"Perfect," I smiled. "We'll be sure to take good care of her. By the way, which room will be ours?"

Aunt Laura hurried to lead us upstairs.

Trisha followed, red-eyed and trembling, putting on another generous act as she opened a pink, frilly room.

"Sister, if you don't mind... you can have this one. It's actually yours to begin with..."

Before we could respond, Kian rushed forward again, blocking the doorway like a guard dog.

"This is Mom's gift to my sister! Country bumpkins like you don't deserve a princess room!"

I could feel my temper spike again, but Aunt Laura caught my glare and quickly intervened, frowning at her son.

"Carmela, you can pick any room you like. Think of it as our way of making up for lost time."

My best friend glanced at the nauseatingly pink decor, wrinkled her nose, then turned toward a much larger, brighter bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Then we'll take that one! It's big enough for me and Yanna!"

Kian's jaw dropped. "You—you've got to be kidding! That's our parents' room!"

I flashed a sunny smile at Aunt Laura.

"Mom, you did say any room, right? You're not taking that back now, are you?"

Her mouth twitched, but after a moment, she nodded helplessly.

"Good! We've been in the car all day—we're exhausted. You and Dad should rest early too!"

And before anyone could respond, I grabbed my friend, shut the door with a satisfying bang, and left the whole family frozen in place.

From that day on, our new life officially began.

For the next week, Carmela and I went on a glorious shopping spree.

After eight years of scrimping and suffering, it felt heavenly to finally buy whatever we wanted without looking at price tags, without hesitation, just enjoying retail therapy.