Not Your Real Biological Daughter

My boyfriend had been secretly planning a proposal, a fact the family’s adopted golden girl gleefully leaked to me three days in advance.

I pretended I knew nothing.

Three days later, she dragged me to the grand event under the guise of a casual dinner.

I was just about to plaster on my best face of rehearsed shock when the man of the hour dropped to one knee—not in front of me, but right in front of her, under the blinding lights and the stares of Chicago’s elite.

Caroline gasped, her manicured hands flying to cover her mouth.