When The Family Reads The Fake Heiress Mind

When the Book–Traveling Girl Meets the Reborn Girl

Chapter 546 What Are You Really Thinking?

The frost in Jean’s eyes deepened with each word, her voice tinged with scorn and a sharp, simmering anger. “Did I not pay you? Did I not make a deal with you?”

Her lips curled ever so slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. “As your client, I could have tolerated receiving a painting with such loaded symbolism. But to find out even the right to call it a gift has been stripped from me–was that part of the service, too?”

Sarah blinked, a flicker of surprise dancing through her

gaze.

Of all the reactions she’d prepared for–tears, denial, hysteria–this wasn’t one of them. Jean had just learned she wasn’t the Ginger family’s real daughter. Yet she didn’t seem shaken. Not even a little. Instead, her fury was directed at a painting?

She didn’t seem to care that she was the fake noble at all. Her focus was entirely on the transaction.

What kind of person is this? Sarah wondered, unsettled. What kind of brain even works like that?

Jean didn’t stop. She raised an eyebrow, voice still calm but edged with barbed amusement. “Really, don’t you think this was a bit unfair? Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Tyler?”

That hit its mark.

Sarah stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. The room was full of people–powerful people, well–connected, high society. Their opinions mattered. And though she believed she’d done nothing wrong, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their unspoken judgment pressing down on her.

didn’t regret what she’d done. If she wanted something, she would take it. A few tricks, a little

to the trauma Jean had inflicted on her

wait for a response. Her gaze dropped away from Sarah, turning instead to Sienna. In the blink of an eye, her expression

put a lot of thought into it. I really wanted it to be something special for your birthday. But I didn’t know it would turn into all this. I guess I didn’t manage to give you a very good

parentage. Nothing about bloodlines or

mentioned–again and again–was the painting. The

that was what

even. She’d braced herself for Jean to demand

But she didn’t.

for truth. Didn’t lash out. Didn’t

apologizing for not delivering a

What Are You Really

something inside her twist violently, as if her chest had been cleaved open. The

brothers

hadn’t asked them for anything. She hadn’t even seemed surprised. She just stood there–beautiful

that only made

what was going on

you

preferred if she cried.