I’m the True Heiress, I Took Back Everything

Chapter 1

My mother reached out to touch me, but I jerked her hand away harshly. "Don't touch me!"

My father flew into a rage the second he saw my reaction. He raised his palm and struck me hard across the cheek.

I clutched my stinging face and barely stayed upright. "You ungrateful girl! Look at yourself—do you have an ounce of proper breeding? You've brought shame down on the entire Winslow name!"

Breeding? Rules?

I fought to steady the tremor in my voice, forcing myself to calm down. "Breeding? Dad, have you forgotten? I'm just a wild country girl raised out in rural Montana. A hick no one wanted the second I stepped foot in this house!"

Months of bottled-up grievance and fury clouded my judgment. I grabbed the antique vases lined up on the table and hurled them one after another onto the floor, my voice shrilling with rage. "Every precious gift always goes to her first! All I ever get are the scraps she's turned her nose up at! You all think I grew up out in the sticks, so you brush me off with these cast-offs!"

A few days earlier, mom had come home with several sets of custom high-end evening gowns for me. I'd rushed to ask the butler to press them, eager to wear one to the upcoming gala. But as I walked down the hallway, I overheard two maids gossiping around the corner. "Miss Ella really has no sense of the world. She's over the moon just over a few gowns."

"What a joke. Those dresses were rejects Miss Isabel didn't want, and she treats them like priceless treasures."

All my earlier joy curdled into bitter resentment and humiliation in that instant. The gestures I'd thought were compensation were nothing more than leftover handouts.

I was the true Winslow daughter by birth. So why had she stolen twenty years of my life, growing into a celebrated socialite, while I was stuck out in the countryside—only to return and become everyone's laughingstock?

My whole body shook with anger, hot tears spilling down my cheeks against my will. "In all of your eyes, I'm nothing but a joke meant to make Isabel look refined and perfect!"

"Ella, stop this right now!" Mom tried to soothe me. "If the maids disrespected you, we can fire them on the spot. Whatever fine things you want, just tell me—of course I'll give them to you."

Dad reined in his temper and echoed her words. "Name anything you like, and we'll buy it for you. There's no need to throw a fit over trivial gossip from household staff."

Isabel, who had stood silently off to the side this whole time, hurried forward to stand in front of me. "I never thought this would upset you… If there's anything you like, just say the word. I have countless dresses and jewelry, I can give them all to you!"

Her gaze locked onto mine, her posture earnest and sincere. I rejected her fake kindness with a cold scoff. "Why would I take your discarded leftovers? Everything in this house was always meant to be mine. You stole my identity, my parents, every part of the life that belonged to me!"

I stared at her blankly. "I never want to see you again. I want you… out of the Winslow estate."

The moment the last word left my mouth, a suffocating silence fell over the living room.

Isabel looked utterly shattered, staring blankly back at me. Mom rushed forward to pull her into a comforting embrace, her gaze cutting into me with unmasked blame. They cared for Isabel. I glanced around the room, then let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

This place had never held a spot for me. Before anyone could react, I grabbed a fruit knife off the coffee table and drove the blade straight toward my heart without a single moment of hesitation.

Several bodyguards lunged forward to restrain me. They ripped the knife from my grasp and tossed it several feet away before pinning my limbs tight.

I thrashed and kicked against their hold. "This family can only have one daughter. Either her, or me!"

My mother pushed past the guards and pulled me into a tight hug. "Ella, please calm down. I beg you—don't do something irreversible…"

I could not register a single word she said, still struggling violently in her arms. Just then, Isabel stepped forward and gently tugged at my mother's sleeve, forcing a smile far sadder than tears. "Mom, don't put yourself through this. Ella what she wants… I'm willing to leave."

I stopped fighting and turned to look at her. She met my eyes, her expression tangled with sorrow and reluctance, yet weighted mostly with quiet pleading. "Ella… I'm the one who took your place. I promise I'll go. I only ask that you stop hurting yourself, and stop making Mom and Dad grieve… All of this is my fault to bear."

Her tone rang genuine, edged with humble supplication. For a split second, I almost believed I was the cruel, unreasonable one throwing a tantrum.

My father let out a long sigh and said nothing more.

Isabel dipped her head in a quiet nod toward me, then turned and retreated to her bedroom.

The next day, Isabel moved out of the Winslow estate entirely.

Had I finally… won?