The True Heiress Returns

September sunlight filtered through the camphor leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. I stood beside the bulletin board in front of the Teaching Building, the warmth of the freshly received Scholarship Certificate still lingering on my fingertips. A commotion stirred behind me, accompanied by my classmates' hushed gasps of astonishment. Turning around, I saw two Black Bentleys glide smoothly to a stop near the fountain plaza, the drivers respectfully opening the doors. The two who stepped out wore impeccably tailored haute couture suits and Chanel ensembles, exuding an aura of majestic elegance. They were my biological parents, Harrison Sharpe and Monica Sue, the ruling figures of the nation's top conglomerate. Eighteen years of a misplaced life are finally coming to an end today. "Cynthia." Father's voice held an almost imperceptible tremor, his eyes slightly reddened. Before I could respond, my wrist was seized by a brute force. It was Dylan Carter, my boyfriend. His face was pale, his breathing rapid, as if he had done something wrong. "Cynthia, listen to me." Without a word, he dragged me behind the camphor tree with such force I thought he might crush my bones. I frowned and struggled, "Dylan, you're hurting me." Without warning, he dropped to one knee and pulled a small red box from his pocket. A few gasps echoed around us, and several passing classmates stopped to watch curiously. The box opened to reveal a silver ring, rough in style, with even some jagged edges along its border. "Is this... a stainless steel ring from a 9.9 dollars free shipping deal?" I could hardly believe my eyes. Dylan Carter's face instantly flushed, but he still stiffly said, "Cynthia, I know this ring isn't valuable, but it represents my feelings! Marry me!" I was stunned by his sudden action: "What are you going crazy about? Don't you know what occasion this is today?" "I know!" He suddenly raised his voice, his eyes filled with pleading. "Precisely because I know, I'm begging you! Cynthia, I'm begging you, don't expose Julia Sharpe's identity. Let her stay in the Sharpe Family, okay?" It was as if I had heard the biggest joke in the world: "You want me—someone who has just found her biological parents—to watch helplessly as the fake heiress who has usurped my place for eighteen years continues to enjoy everything that rightfully belongs to me?" "Julia Sharpe is so pitiful!" Dylan Carter pleaded urgently. "Now that you've exposed her, how is she supposed to live?" "What about me then?" My voice grew cold. "I've been working like a beast for eighteen years in my foster parents' home. Have you forgotten all the hardship I endured? And now you want me to give up the life that's mine for her?" "How can you be so selfish!" Dylan Carter stood up, agitated. "Julia Sharpe is so kind; she's never hurt you! Can't you show her some understanding?" "Selfish?" I laughed, but the humor never reached my eyes. "Dylan Carter, have you forgotten about your mother?" His face turned deathly pale in an instant. "Back then, your mother destroyed another family and drove the original wife to jump to her death. Who in the old neighborhood doesn't know this?" I spoke clearly, word for word, "And now you talk to me about kindness and understanding? Why don't you make your mother apologize to the original wife's children?" "You!" Dylan trembled with rage, his hand shaking as he pointed at me. "Cynthia, you're so cruel! How dare you attack me with such accusations!"