Entwined With The Mysterious Heir

Chiara A supposed happy ending... but it didn’t feel like one at all. Nothing could be worse than living in the slums, getting beaten every single day like it was normal, all because of one tiny mistake I had no control over: being switched at birth. For twenty-one years, I lived in hell, never knowing my real family was one of the richest in New York. Now, somehow, the universe decided to smile on me. Or so I thought. My real parents found me. “You’re going to stain it, Chiara! Use the rug!” My new mother, Gwen, yelled at me the second I tried to sit on the perfect white couch. I jumped so hard I nearly fell off, my heart racing. I caught myself quickly and stood up, feeling my face burn with shame. I glanced at my dress. It was incredibly old, with numerous stitches and patches, but it was clean. I had washed it three times before arriving here, so there was no chance of staining her couch. “Mom! How many times do I have to say I hate that name?” Amelia, the girl who was raised in my place, glared at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Chiara this, Chiara that! If she’s staying here, change that disgusting name!” I shrank back under her hateful stare. I hadn’t done anything wrong. We’d just met. But I could tell her words were just an excuse to hurt me. I waited for one of my parents to stand up for me, to tell Amelia to stop being so cruel. But instead, they immediately started trying to calm her down. “We can’t just call her anything, sweetheart,” Gwen responded softly, reaching out to touch Amelia’s cheek. “And we already agreed we’d change her name together, as a family. Remember?” My chest tightened painfully. Gwen hadn’t touched me once since I arrived. Not even by accident. She kept at least an arm’s length away from me at all times, like I was carrying some disease. I didn’t smell that bad... did I? I’d used almost half a bar of soap this morning, scrubbing until my skin hurt and turned red. Back in the slums, Ma only touched me when she hit me. But at least she was never afraid to touch me. “I don’t care what you call her!” Amelia shoved Gwen so hard she stumbled backward. “Just stop using that name!” Right then, the maid Gwen had sent for drinks came back carrying a silver tray with glasses of orange juice. “Ma’am, here’s the juice you asked for,” she said with a small bow. Amelia’s hands shook as she grabbed the glass. Then she threw it right at me. Juice splashed all over my face and dress. Before I could even react, she grabbed the whole pitcher and dumped the rest over my head. “I hate the sight of you! The smell of you! Everything about you!” Amelia screamed, her voice echoing through the enormous room. “Go back to whatever slum you crawled out of, you thief!” She threw the empty pitcher at my feet. It bounced and rolled across the marble floor. Then she ran up the grand staircase. I stood there frozen, shaking, dripping wet, and completely humiliated. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I already knew I wasn’t welcome here. “Lia! Amelia, wait!” Gwen rushed after her without even looking at me. My father, Rafael, grabbed Gwen’s wrist and stopped her. “Amelia’s upset right now,” he mumbled. “Give her some space.” Gwen glared at him, yanked her arm free, and hurried up the stairs after Amelia anyway. Rafael stood there awkwardly for a moment, clearing his throat like he didn’t know what to say. “Um... Amelia isn’t in a good mood right now. You can’t really blame her,” he said, not quite looking at me. “This is... hard for everyone.” I nodded quickly, even though my heart was breaking into pieces. “I understand. I just thought... maybe we could get along.” The maid came back with a small towel. She held it out to me with just the tips of her fingers, like touching me might make her dirty too. Even the maid was disgusted by me. I took the towel and wiped my face, fighting as hard as I could to hold back tears. It wasn’t the humiliation that hurt the most—I was used to that. I’d faced much worse in the slums. What hurt was knowing that this time, the cruelty was coming from my real family. The people who were supposed to love me. I thought things would be different here. “We’re... really excited to have you back with us,” Rafael muttered, still not looking directly at me. “Things are just complicated right now, and... well.” He cleared his throat again, the sound awkward and uncomfortable. Excited? His eyes showed nothing but discomfort. I knew what disgust looked like. I wasn’t stupid. He looked at the maid. “I believe we have plastic cups in this house, don’t we?” His eyes stayed on the broken glass Amelia had thrown. Then he turned back to me. “We prepared a room for you. It’s... good enough. Since you won’t be staying here very long anyway.” He gestured vaguely at the maid. “Tia will take you upstairs.” The maid, Tia, looked me up and down with clear disgust written all over her face. “Follow me,” she said coldly. “Oh, and Chiara?” Rafael called as I turned to leave. “Don’t forget, we have something very important to discuss once you’ve cleaned up. Come back down in twenty minutes. It’s serious.” Before I could answer, he rushed up the stairs, following the same path his wife and daughter had taken. I sighed, watching him disappear around the corner. My throat felt so tight I could barely swallow. “It’s rare to see someone from the slums in a house like this,” Tia said, her voice full of contempt. “But don’t get too comfortable. You won’t be here long.” She looked at my beat-up duffel bag with disgust. “Pick that... thing up and follow me. You’ve already made extra work by getting the floor dirty.” She turned and walked away without checking if I was following. I blinked back tears that kept trying to fall, grabbed my bag, and hurried after her. My wet dress clung to my skin, cold and uncomfortable. I didn’t care if Amelia hated me. I didn’t care if my parents looked at me with disgust. At least they weren’t beating me. At least I had food and a roof over my head. There was still a tiny bit of hope that things could get better. Back in the slums, I had no hope, no future, and no way out. But here, I finally had a chance—even if it was small. And I would use every single opportunity to make something of myself—no matter what it took.