My mother-in-law dragged me to court, accusing me of pretending to be pregnant to snatch the inheritance. Then, right there in the courtroom, she lunged forward and kicked my stomach. “See? It’s all fake!” Gasps erupted. What she didn’t realize… the man behind the judge’s bench was my father. And in that instant, her case didn’t just fall apart. Her life did haj.

I looked out the window at the grey drizzle falling over the estate. To them, I was a nameless orphan Marcus had “rescued” from a soup kitchen. I had played the part well. I never spoke of my childhood, never mentioned my lineage, and never asked for a cent of the Sterling Estate‘s fortune. I had wanted Marcus to love me for me, not for the shadow of the man who shared my last name.

“Marcus loved this child, Agatha,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s the only thing I have left of him. Why can’t you just let us mourn in peace?”

“Mourn?” Agatha laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “I’m going to strip you of that name and that ‘stomach’ in front of a judge. I’ve already filed the motion. Paternity fraud, inheritance theft—I’ve planted enough rumors in the papers to make sure you’re radioactive. By next week, you’ll be back in the slums where you belong.”