You All Loved the Fake Daughter. So Why Are You Crying Over My Death?

For the three years since I returned to the Hart family, I had always been the wildly out-of-place “burden.”

Vivienne, the family’s beloved fake heiress, broke a contract on her own and provoked a local gang. She was taken hostage and tortured in an abandoned auto repair shop.

To save his precious sister, my brother, Ryan, did not hesitate to trade me to the gang in exchange for Vivienne.

“She’s a movie star, and you’re just a useless nobody. It’s only natural for you to take her place and suffer a little.”

He looked coldly at the gang members who were eyeing me like hungry wolves, and violently shoved me toward them.

“Tonight, she belongs to you.”

Right before they dragged me away, I managed to call my husband, Alex, begging for help. But he rejected me ruthlessly, acting as if my plea was some cheap scam:

“Stop playing the victim. Why would they ever hurt you? Hurry up and clean up this mess. Don't let a girl like Vivienne face those thugs all by herself.”

Bang.

The heavy iron doors of the gang’s hideout slammed shut.

There were no negotiations. What greeted me was a merciless rain of fists, my clothes brutally torn to shreds, and the blinding flashes of cameras.

Amidst the ultimate degradation, they took photos of me, pinched my jaw, and violated my dignity over and over again.

At 4:00 AM, I was tossed out onto the street in front of my own house like a piece of discarded trash.

Upon dragging myself inside, Vivienne immediately began dropping hints to the family, implying that I was the one who tricked her into signing the illegal gang contract.

My family cursed me, telling me to drop dead.

My heart plummeted into a bottomless abyss of darkness. Numbly swallowing the bloody foam pooling in my mouth, I let out a hoarse, broken laugh.

“Since my return was a mistake from the very beginning…”

“Then why didn’t they just let me die?”

Chapter 1

The gang didn’t release me until 4:00 AM, after thoroughly humiliating me.

On the dark highway outside Beverly Hills, the back doors of the van flew open, and I was viciously kicked out into the freezing Los Angeles night air like a bag of rotting garbage.

My body slammed hard against the rough asphalt, instantly scraping huge chunks of skin off my palms and knees.

Clinging to my last ounce of strength, I dragged my badly battered body through the biting wind until I finally reached home.

The moment I pushed the front door open, the living room was brightly lit.

I thought, naively, that someone might at least ask, “Are you hurt?” or “You made it back alive.”

Slap!

Instead, what welcomed me was a vicious slap across the face from my mother.

She struck me with every ounce of her strength. The impact made my already traumatized eardrums ring endlessly, sending my entire body crashing heavily onto the expensive Persian rug.

“You vicious animal!” My mother screamed, her eyes bloodshot as she pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “How could your heart be so black?!”

I cupped my swollen cheek, my mind going entirely blank.

Following my mother’s furious gaze, I saw Vivienne reclining on the sofa, completely unscathed. Wrapped cozily in a cashmere blanket and clutching a cup of hot tea, she was weeping delicately. She didn't look anything like the miserable prisoner facing the threat of having her fingers chopped off in that abandoned auto shop.

My father stood beside her, staring at me with undisguised disgust.

“Mom… what are you talking about?” My voice was hoarse, every breath tearing at my lungs. “I was the one who went there to trade places with her. Those men beat me, they…”

“You’re still pretending?!”

My brother, Ryan, stormed forward, clutching a stack of crumpled documents. He slammed them violently into my face.

The sharp edges of the paper sliced a bloody cut into the corner of my eye.

“Vivienne told us everything! It was you—you secretly contacted those loan-shark thugs from the Eastside and introduced them to Vivienne as loan guarantors! You set up the trap, tricking her into signing this illegal contract because you wanted to ruin her life!”

I stared blankly at the papers scattered on the floor.

My ears roared.

She went to the gang to borrow money, yet she had the audacity to write down my name as the middleman?!

“I didn't…” I trembled violently, my fingernails digging deeply into the mangled flesh of my palms. “Ryan, you were the one who said I had to go swap with her! You were the one who pushed me in and threw me to those monsters!”

“Don’t throw dirty water on Ryan! If he hadn’t found out you were the mastermind behind this, why would he force you to confront them?” My father barked sharply, cutting off my final struggle.

On the sofa, Vivienne shrank back, covering her face as she broke into loud sobs.

“Sister, I know you hate me… You think I stole your rightful place for the past twenty-two years, so you used such despicable methods to ruin my acting career. Honestly, if it makes you happy, I can leave this house. But why did you have to collude with a gang…”

“Get out! The Hart family doesn't have a cheap, malicious daughter like you! Get out!” My mother shrieked, stepping forward to shove me.

It was impossible to defend myself.

I looked at these familiar yet hideous faces, feeling as if my heart had been plunged into ice water, freezing inch by slow inch.

They didn’t care about my explanation. They only believed in their perfect Vivienne.

Just then, the front door opened once more.

The distinct scent of cedarwood cologne wafted in, and a pair of impeccably polished, custom-made leather shoes stepped into my line of sight.

It was Alex, my husband.

The youngest, most ruthless CEO of Crowe Pictures.

An apex predator at the top of Hollywood’s power pyramid.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, he radiated coldness and nobility, like a god looking down upon mere ants.

This marriage was originally an ironclad rule set by the elders of the Hart and Crowe families. Yet, for the past twenty years, the one standing proudly by Alex’s side had always been the elegant, radiant, Ivy-League-educated Vivienne. They were childhood sweethearts, universally recognized as the golden couple of high society.

That was, until half a year ago, when I—the mud-covered true heiress—was found and brought back. According to the will of the trust fund, I forcibly replaced Vivienne and became his wife.

In Alex’s eyes, I was an uneducated, vulgar woman reeking of poverty—a greedy predator who maliciously tore him and Vivienne apart.

“Alex!” I practically clung to him like my last straw, struggling to crawl toward him. My dust- and blood-stained fingers shakily grasped the hem of his suit pants. “Alex, you have to believe me! You have no idea what I went through at that repair shop tonight trying to save her. They ripped my clothes off, they…”

Alex looked down.

In those cold, deep-ocean blue eyes, there was no heartache, no shock. There was only an overflowing, undeniable physical repulsion.

Without a second thought, he raised his leg and forcefully kicked my hand away, as if swatting away a disgusting piece of trash.

The sheer force of his kick sent me tumbling backward. The back of my head slammed against the sharp edge of the coffee table, sending a piercing agony through my skull.

Alex didn’t even spare me a second glance. He walked straight to the sofa, leaning down to help Vivienne up with a gentleness reserved only for her. In a soft, soothing tone, he comforted her, “The PR department has already suppressed the scattered gossip online. At your premiere the day after tomorrow, no one will dare mention this.”

Then, he turned around, peering down at me from his towering height.

“Vivienne told me everything over the phone. Bella, your jealousy is absolutely sickening. You’re lowly on your own, yet you insist on dragging the family’s face through the mud.” His voice was as cold as a blade. “You really should roll out of this house. To forcibly wedge yourself between Vivienne and me for three years… you truly have a venomous heart.”

The air suddenly went dead silent.

I didn't speak another word. Nor did I shed another tear.

The injuries on my body that were previously hurting so much they made me spasm miraculously lost all sensation in that very moment.

I looked at the five people who vehemently rejected me—my father, my mother, my biological brother, my husband, and the perfect fake heiress who had stolen everything from me.

These five formed an unbreakable alliance. No matter what I said, they would treat it as a lie, as the toxic ramblings of a jealous woman.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic-tasting blood bubbling in my throat.

Then, using the edge of the sofa for support, I swayed slightly but stood up perfectly straight.

I ignored my mother’s shocked gaze and didn't look at Alex’s slightly furrowed brow. I merely raised my hand and casually wiped the blood from the corner of my eye with the back of my hand.

“Fine. I’ll leave.”

My voice was light, yet incredibly clear.

I turned around, dragging my broken body back to my room without looking back.

“Tsk! She actually still thinks she’s the victim here,” came my brother’s disdainful scoff from behind me.