The Fake Heiress Is Too Loved

For the eighteen years I spent as the "accidental" daughter of the Crawford family, no one was ever unkind to me.

When I lost control of my bike and crushed our neighbor’s ridiculously expensive imported orchids, she didn’t even flinch. She just knelt on the lawn and asked, "Oh, sweetie, it’s just a few flowers. Are your knees okay?"

Years later, when I was trying to learn the family business and accidentally signed my own name on a ten-million-dollar merger contract instead of my dad’s, he didn’t yell.