The Fake Heiress's Scheme

My name is Karina Donald, and I am seventeen years old. I had spent seventeen years at Green Hill Farm, and every morning, the first thing I did was go to the backyard to feed the chickens. Today was no different. Clutching a handful of cornmeal, I walked up to the chicken coop. Golden corn kernels scattered on the ground, and a flock of hens immediately gathered to peck at them, their clucking echoing through the yard. "Karina, are you home?" At the gate, I heard my foster father, Jack Donald's voice, his tone heavier than usual. I wiped the cornmeal from my hands and turned to answer, "Dad, I'm feeding the chickens." Walking into the yard, I saw two strangers standing beside my foster father—a man and a woman—dressed in neat suits and dresses, completely out of place amidst the farm's earthy atmosphere. The man appeared to be about fifty, his hair perfectly groomed, his sharp eyes exuding the presence of someone in authority. When he looked at me, his brows knitted slightly, as if appraising an object. The woman wore an off-white dress, and her face was made up with delicate makeup. But her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hands gripped the purse strap tightly; when her gaze landed on me, it held a complex mix of emotions—excitement, along with a subtle hint of unease. "Karina, these two are..." My foster father paused, his voice low, "your biological parents, Richard Zimmerman and Diana Sullivan." The words "biological parents" exploded in my ears like a thunderclap. Actually, I had known for a long time that I wasn't their biological child—I overheard their conversation when I was little. They said I was a baby switched at the hospital seventeen years ago, and they had been quietly searching for my biological parents all these years but never dared to tell me. But when I finally saw them, my heart started pounding uncontrollably, a strange yet familiar feeling rising inside me, and tears instantly welled up in my eyes. Diana Sullivan hurried over to me, reached out to touch my face, then suddenly pulled back, her voice trembling: "Karina, my daughter, I have finally found you." Her tears fell onto the dress, spreading into a small patch of dampness. But as I looked at her, I couldn't bring myself to throw my arms around her and cry like I'd seen on TV. I just stood there stiffly, my fingers clenched tightly around the hem of my dress. Richard Zimmerman stepped forward, patted Diana Sullivan's shoulder, and looked at me with an unyielding authority: "Karina, it was a hospital mistake that kept you on the farm for seventeen years, where you endured so much. Now we've come to take you home, to come with us." "Going home?" I paused for a moment, then looked at my foster father. "Dad, I..." My foster father sighed, came to my side, and gently patted my back. "Karina, for these seventeen years, your mom and I have loved you as our own daughter." "Now that your biological parents have found you, whether you want to go with them or stay here, I will respect your choice." My foster mother came out of the house, her eyes red, and held my hand. "Karina, no matter what you choose, this will always be your home."