Chapter 6 Engagement With Kris
878 Words
"Sure," I said brightly, my tone laced with feigned innocence. "When are you planning to move out?"
The Andersons froze in shock. Fiona instinctively looked to Conrad, her face pale and uncertain.
They hadn't expected this.
On the way here, Eleanor had explicitly told me to get along with Fiona. Clearly, they believed that Fiona's humble apology and lowered posture would be enough to mend the rift.
"Helena," Conrad said, his voice firm with a warning edge. "Don't make decisions in anger. Fiona is a victim too. The real culprits are the ones who switched you two at birth."
"Victim?" I repeated, incredulous. "You're telling me that being treated like a princess and living a life of luxury is what you call suffering?"
"She lost the care of her real parents and brother," Cyrus interjected, his tone laced with disapproval.
"Ah, yes," I said mockingly, repeating his words. "She missed out on the 'love' of a mother who beat me and a brother who nearly sold me for drug money. What a tragedy."
Eleanor's voice softened as she tried to bridge the gap. "We failed you," she said. "The Torren family altered your birth records. It took us years to find you."
She launched into an explanation, laying out how my birth date had been falsified—changed by a year and eight months.
When the Andersons discovered Fiona wasn't their biological daughter, they launched a thorough search for their real child, combing through records of girls born on the same day. But the Torrens had altered my birth date by nearly two years, burying the truth.
By a stroke of luck, one of Cyrus' friends, a regular at the maid café where I worked, spotted me and couldn't help but notice how much I resembled Eleanor. He was so startled that, during a visit to the Andersons, he blurted it out—stammering about how the girl he'd seen was already an adult.
That offhand remark was enough to spark suspicion. Cyrus and his friend made a trip to the café, collected a sample of my hair, and arranged a DNA test. It wasn't until the results came back that the Andersons confirmed I was their missing daughter.
"We've all been waiting for you to come home," Eleanor said, playing her card of emotional appeal. "Helena, I know you have a kind heart. Please don't make things harder for Fiona."
Conrad stepped in to end the conversation. "Everyone's had a long day. Let's call it a night," he said with authority. Then he summoned Milly. "Show Helena to her room."
I sighed, realizing their favoritism was so blatant that forcing the imposter out this time was clearly a lost cause.
Milly hesitated, shifting on her feet like a guilty child.
"What's wrong?" Conrad asked, his tone sharp with impatience.
"Well, sir," Milly said carefully, "preparing for Ms. Helena's arrival was a significant task, and we wanted to ensure everything was perfect. The custom bed we ordered for her won't be delivered until tomorrow, so the room is currently uninhabitable."
Her words were a masterful balance of flattery and deflection—highlighting the Andersons' thoughtfulness while conveniently sidestepping any real accountability. No one was inconvenienced but me.
Conrad sighed and glanced toward the guest rooms upstairs.
I interrupted before he could make a decision, "I'll take Fiona's room. She doesn't have to move out, but she can at least give me back what's mine, right?"
"I'm used to my room," Fiona said softly, her voice trembling as she looked to Conrad for support. "Daddy..."
I cut her off with a sweet but pointed smile. "You just offered to give me everything. Surely you don't mind giving me one room?"
"Daddy!" I added firmly, meeting his gaze. "I don't mind that it's been used."
Conrad exhaled heavily, clearly eager to end the ordeal. "Fiona, take the guest room tonight—just for one night," he ordered. "Now, let's all get some rest."
Fiona's room was a nauseating shade of pink.
The ceiling, bed, desk, and even an entire wall filled with Barbie dolls—all drenched in an overly saccharine hue.
Milly opened a cream-colored wardrobe, pulling out a few outfits.
"Leave it," I snapped. "I didn't say you could touch my things, did I?"
"These belong to Ms. Fiona," Milly said stiffly, her tone polite but cold. "She didn't have time to pack before moving to the guest room."
"This is my room now, so everything in here became mine," I said, yanking the clothes from her hands and tossing them onto the bed. "Now, get out."
Milly hesitated for a moment before leaving. But minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
'Who can't take a hint?' I thought irritably, flinging the door open. "What now?"
To my surprise, it was Eleanor.
But why?
She stood awkwardly at the threshold, hesitant to step inside. "Since you're legally an adult, there's something I think you should know," she began, her voice wavering. "Your father plans to discuss it with you tomorrow, but I wanted to give you some time to prepare."
Her words spilled out in a jumbled rush, betraying her internal struggle.
"You're engaged to Kris," she finally said. "Kris Howard, the man you met today."
- Writer
