Fake heiress Real heroine

Chapter 2

The boy, Joseph Wilson, had finally settled his nerves, nibbling on a morsel of food, his demeanor a stark contrast to the other frightened children. His eyes darted toward the doorway, a shadow of worry lingering in their depths.

When the officer’s question pierced the air, his lips were poised to utter the words that someone had aided their escape.

But before he could voice his secret, a warm touch enveloped his hand. Joseph’s head turned, revealing a petite, willowy girl standing serenely beside him.

“You” he started, a blend of astonishment and joy flickering across his face, ready to reveal her as his helper. Yet, a subtle squeeze of his fingers served as a swift reminder that unveiling her identity could spell disaster.

“What’s the occasion here? Who does this child belong to?” The officer, clutching a registration form, peered at Quinlyn with bewilderment, her attire not hinting at a life of privilege.

Instinctively, Joseph stepped forward, shielding Quinlyn with his body and crafting a seamless alibi. “She’s the girl Mr. Anderson’s family recently discovered. Living in the countryside, she was unfortunately swept up in our abduction on her way back to the city.”

The officer’s gaze softened with a hint of sympathy, as if murmuring, “Misfortune indeed,” but he didn’t probe further.

Joseph claimed he’d wrestled free from his bonds and fled. The darkness and fear had blinded the others, rendering Quinlyn invisible. Thus, as he guided her back into the throng, suspicion remained a distant echo.

“Thank you,” Quinlyn murmured, drifting to a corner, her gratitude a quiet whisper.

Joseph handed her bread and milk, chuckling softly. The thanks are mine. Without you, our plight would be dire.”

His hubris had led him into the kidnappers‘ trap. Reflecting on it now, embarrassment tinged his cheeks..

As his gaze lingered on Quinlyn, he marveled at how she, so delicate, had orchestrated their escape. His eyes caught the bag at her feet. “What’s that?”

without lifting her gaze.

bag, skeptical of its contents, and

Quinlyn and believed she shouldn’t return to the perilous town. Little did

took a hearty bite of her bread and replied

he explained, “In the city, a security number is a must for travel and education. Without it, you might resort to illegal labor. It’s a harsh world for children.”

glance; she had a network of contacts and employers eager to welcome her. Her connections in the borderlands were unparalleled, a world

a plan. On our journey here, Mr. Anderson’s child fell from the car and didn’t make it. Pretend you’re their

this guy must have skipped a few

have spent. weeks searching. One blood test would expose the charade.

now

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Tue, 18 Mar

Chapter 2

to reclaim their children. Quinlyn stood armudit the crowd, reluctant to move, but Joseph propelled her toward a

to the man, who happened to be Hailey’s

noticed Quinlyn’s disheveled, dirt–streaked appearance. Disgust creased his brow instinctively

gaze and declared firmly, “That’s

does remind me of Dad,” he muttered, still awaiting the DNA test results. Playing it safe, he decided to take Quinlyn with

news, detailing the kids‘ narrow escapes. Quinlyn was whisked to at hospital in

grandfather, called Maurice with a specific request

visit to Anderson Manor. “We’re not even sure if she’s the one, why is Mr. Anderson insisting on meeting her? It’s ridiculous,” she protested.

explained, “Dad is organizing his inheritance, and as you know, his heart is set on Hailey. If he meets her, our chances against the

adopted, she’s like our own flesh and blood. Mr. Anderson is

“When you see him, remember to call him grandpa and act sweetly, alright?” he reminded

on the opulent villas

them inside. They warmly greeted Quinlyn, treating her like a

was a hive of activity, with Edward seated at the center, his hair a snowy crown. From the

to the borderlands, enduring so much,” Maurice said. nudging Quinlyn