The Real Miss Mitchell: Unmasking the Genius

"Take your stuff and get out! Remember, from now on, you're a Mitchell, not a Brown!"

Today was the welcome party for Sophia Brown, the real heiress of the Brown family.

Eleanor's adoptive mother, Grace Hernandez, kicked the black garbage bags down the front steps and humiliated the fake heiress Eleanor without holding back.

A week ago, Sophia was found and brought back to the Brown family.

And just like that, everything changed.

The way her adoptive parents looked at Eleanor shifted from cold indifference to disgust, then from disgust to pure hatred.

They said she had stolen eighteen years of Sophia's wealth and privilege.

But they seemed to forget that it was Eleanor who had built the Brown Group from a small company to the edge of going public.

What a joke...

Lost in thought, Eleanor's adoptive father, Jack Brown, stepped out from the crowd and tossed a bank card at her feet.

"There's ten thousand dollars on that card. Consider it our way of settling things. We raised you, and that's more than enough."

The card hit the marble floor with a sharp click.

Grace let out a cold laugh. "What, this chump change isn't enough? Word is out—we found your birth folks. They live hand-to-mouth on welfare, flat broke. Your brother's disabled, and their debts are piling sky-high. Grab the ten thousand dollars, or you're in for a world of hurt."

Eleanor finally looked up, every emotion in her eyes fading into cold indifference.

"I'll leave," she said, her voice flat. "From this moment on, I have nothing to do with this family. Nothing."

She bent down and started picking up her scattered belongings.

But just as she reached for the torn family photo, a foot came down on it.

Right on her face in the picture.

Eleanor looked up.

Sophia stood over her, looking down with an air of superiority. She wore a white couture gown that made her look effortlessly graceful, and the diamond necklace at her throat caught the light from the crystal chandelier.

She wore a gentle smile and spoke with a hint of apology. "Eleanor, don't blame Mom. She just cares about me. Since you're leaving, let me toast you before you go."

She reached back to the table behind Eleanor, picked up two glasses of champagne, and pressed one into Eleanor's hand.

Eleanor looked down at the glass. She didn't drink.

Sophia didn't seem bothered. She smiled softly, drank her own glass first, then took Eleanor's and drained it too.

"If Eleanor doesn't want it, that's fine. I'll drink hers too."

Grace snorted. "Ungrateful."

But the words had barely left her mouth when Sophia's face changed completely.

She clutched her throat with both hands. Her breathing turned ragged. Red welts spread rapidly across her skin, crawling from her neck up to her cheeks in an alarming rush.

Then her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, her body convulsing violently.

"Sophia! Sophia, what's wrong?!" Grace screamed and threw herself down beside her.

Sophia's face had already swollen beyond recognition. She grabbed Grace's hand with one fist, and with the other, she raised a trembling finger toward Eleanor, tears streaming down her face. "Mom... it was her... she put something in my glass... she's trying to kill me!"

Grace's eyes went red in an instant. She lunged at Eleanor. "You little witch! How dare you hurt my daughter! I'll kill you!"

Eleanor stepped to the side, dodging her, and caught Grace's wrist in a firm grip.

"I won't let anyone pin something on me that I didn't do."

Right then, a crash shook the room.

The front doors of the villa burst open from outside. More than a dozen uniformed police officers poured in, led by a man with a hard expression who barked, "Nobody move!"

The entire room went silent.

The lead officer swept his gaze across the room and spoke in a low, firm voice. "We received a report that someone here has been deliberately poisoned. If you're responsible, step forward now."

In the next second, every eye in the room turned to Eleanor.

Grace shrieked, "It's her! She poisoned my daughter's drink! She tried to kill her! Officer, arrest her right now!"

Two officers stepped forward immediately, one on each side of Eleanor, gripping her shoulders. "Miss, you're suspected of attempted murder. You need to come with us."

"So young, and already this vicious," the guests murmured among themselves.

In that moment, everyone in the room had already decided Eleanor was guilty.

Even Sophia, still lying on the floor, let a flicker of satisfaction cross her eyes.

Then Eleanor gave a cold laugh. "What a bunch of idiots."

The room went dead quiet.

The officer's brow snapped together. "What did you just say?"

Eleanor raised her head and met his gaze without flinching, her smile sharp and mocking. "Am I wrong, officer? Sophia collapsed less than a minute ago, and you came crashing through the door saying I poisoned her. So tell me—who was so clairvoyant that they knew in advance I was going to do something, and called you ahead of time?"

"And if someone already knew, why didn't they stop me before she drank anything? Why wait until she was already on the ground to come in and make an arrest?"

The officer's expression froze.

"There's only one explanation," Eleanor spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Whoever made that call knew she was going to collapse, because Sophia staged the whole thing herself."

The moment those words landed, panic flashed across Sophia's swollen face.

"You little—don't listen to her! Officer, stop letting her talk her way out of this! Just shoot her already!" Grace was frantic now, pushing the officers to act.

Eleanor didn't even glance at her. She looked straight at the officer in front of her. "Are you really willing to be played like this? Let me go, and I'll tell you what actually happened."

The officer stared at Eleanor for a few seconds, then raised his hand and signaled the others to release her.

Eleanor rolled her wrists slowly and walked toward Sophia.

Sophia's face filled with terror. She scrambled backward as fast as she could, her voice raw and hoarse. "Keep her away from me... she's going to kill me... Mom, help me..."

The sight made Eleanor laugh, cold and sharp. "Sophia. Are you done performing?"

"What did you say?! You did this to my daughter, and now you're trying to walk away clean? You're absolutely heartless! I should have gotten rid of you when you were a child!"

Grace came at her in a rage, but an officer stepped in her way and warned her firmly, "Ma'am, calm down. Everyone here is required to cooperate with our investigation."

He gave Eleanor a brief nod to continue.

Eleanor studied Sophia carefully for a moment, then spoke in a cool, measured tone. "Her symptoms are a classic biphasic allergic reaction—difficulty breathing, hives, angioedema. It all fits. But there's one problem."

A sharp glint crossed Eleanor's eyes.

"If the allergen came from an outside source—like she's claiming I put something in her glass—it would take at least ten to fifteen minutes from ingestion to reaction. But what actually happened? From the moment she drank that champagne to the moment she collapsed was less than thirty seconds."

"That means the allergen didn't come from the drink at all. She had already been exposed to it before she ever touched that glass."

Eleanor locked her eyes on Sophia, the corner of her mouth curving upward. "So my guess is that you introduced the allergen through skin contact beforehand. Something like a skin prick test."

Sophia's composure was cracking. "Eleanor, I don't know what you're talking about..."

"You don't?" Eleanor's voice was ice. "A skin prick test uses a very fine needle to push the allergen just under the surface of the skin. It leaves tiny puncture marks. You planned this so carefully—I'm sure you took care of those marks too, didn't you?"

"Stop making things up!" Grace screamed. "Sophia is barely hanging on, and you're standing here lying through your teeth!"

"If I'm lying, we'll see soon enough."

Eleanor's expression hardened. She grabbed Sophia's arm and raised it high into the air.