"Helen, the Morgans have raised you for 20 years. We've done more than enough. Sign the papers." Jacob Morgan slid a thick stack of legal documents across the mahogany desk toward her. Then, with a detached calm, he pushed a check across the polished surface. "Here's 500,000 dollars," he said flatly. "Consider it compensation. After all, we were father and daughter once." Helen stood before the desk, the faint scent of lavender drifting in the air. A cold, derisive smile touched her eyes. "Five Hundred thousand?" Her lips curved in a mocking arc. "To buy out two decades? Am I really that cheap in your eyes, Jacob? Or is this paltry sum all the mighty Morgans can actually scrape together?" Three months ago, the Morgans had discovered Helen wasn't their biological daughter. They'd spent a small fortune to track down and finally found her—Lydia Morgan. The real daughter of the Morgans had come home. With their biological daughter now home, Helen, who had been dumped in the countryside as a child and only brought back four years ago, had become disposable trash. "What? Five hundred grand's not good enough for you?" Sienna Blyth's face twisted with disgust, her manicured nails tapping sharply against the desk. "Your real family in that backwater town would need years to earn that! Stop being ungrateful and sign it! Once you do, you and the Morgans are through. Clean break!" "Mom, please, don't say that ... " It was true what they said—money refines a person. Two months back in the mansion and she was already picture-perfect: hair curled to perfection, wearing designer tweed and diamond earrings that sparkled under the sunlight. Her face was sweet and gentle, her voice laced with honey. "Helen has been accustomed to a certain life for so many years, living in a mansion as a wealthy heiress. It's only natural she'd be reluctant to go back to ... rural living." She'd heard all about Helen's origins. Dirt poor. A bedridden grandfather, a deadbeat unemployed father, and three brothers who couldn't afford to get married. The whole family was practically a nest of parasites.Helen would probably be sold off for money the moment she returned. A smug satisfaction curled inside Lydia. She deliberately emphasized the word "rural," all while studying Helen's reaction. When her eyes fell on Helen's face, exquisitely stunning even in the harsh afternoon light, a flicker of pure envy shot through her. She tilted her head, voice still syrupy-sweet. "I did hear your family lives in one of those ... low-income neighborhoods? But still, blood's thicker than water. Better to go home to your real family than staying here where you have to beg for kindness, right?" She stressed the word "real," lacing it with triumphant glee. The whole performance was so theatrically pathetic it almost made Helen laugh aloud. "Is that what happens when you spend too long in the gutter, Lydia? Forgetting basic manners now that you're back among the civilized?" Helen's cool gaze swept over her. "Can't complain; I suppose it's in the blood." That one line sliced clean through all three Morgans at once. Sienna's face went red. She slammed a palm on the desk and shot to her feet, ready to explode. But Helen's composed voice cut in. "I'll sign." Sienna's tirade died in her throat. Helen picked up the pen. She didn't bother reading a single clause. The nib touched the paper, and in three swift, flowing strokes, she signed her name. Helen Walcott. The name flowed from the pen in sharp, elegant strokes—unhesitating, unregretful, final. When she finished, she flicked the pen aside carelessly. It clattered against the papers. Her slender fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the check. Watching this, Sienna's eyes filled with contempt. See? As expected. Poor genes will always be trashy, after all. So easily bought off by a mere 500,000. But then ... Helen picked up the check.With a deft snap of her fingers, she sent the slip of paper fluttering through the air to smack Jacob squarely in the face. Her voice, cold and clear, followed. "Keep that 500,000 of yours. Consider it my contribution. Save it so you Morgans can buy your own graves." The check plastered on Jacob's face felt like a stinging slap to the entire family. "Helen!" Jacob ripped it off, his face red with fury. He stared at her disbelievingly. Was this the same girl who once bowed and scraped before them, dying for tiny bits of love and attention? Since when had she grown a spine? Helen's eyes were steady, emotionless. She turned, walking away with calm, lethal grace. For the Morgans, she felt nothing. Once, she had craved their love. When she'd first been brought back to the Morgans, she'd worked her butt off—always treading carefully, bending over backwards to please them, all so that she could fit in.She lived her life like a puppy desperate for her owners' approval. She'd even studied herbal remedies and aromatherapy to soothe their ailments—all just to earn their approval. To fulfill Jacob's ambition of elevating the family's status, she'd leveraged her own connections to pave the Morgans' way, clearing every obstacle for them. But in the end, what did she get? Criticism. Contempt. Dismissal. All that desperate hope and grovelling effort had become one big joke. The moment Lydia returned, they couldn't wait to kick her out, to make room for their precious blood. That was the day something in her shattered for good. The study door clicked shut. For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Sienna burst out, voice trembling with rage. "What the hell was that supposed to mean? Who is she to disrespect us like that?!"Jacob scowled, looking down at the crumpled check in his hand. The image of Helen's cold, resolute figure flickered in his mind. "Enough!" he snapped coldly. "You got what you wanted. The agreement is signed. Drop it." "Oh, so now it's my fault?" Sienna shot back. "I did this for Lydia! Who knows what Helen's real family might have left her? She's an outsider! Why should she get a single cent of the Morgans' fortune that belongs to Lydia?" Sienna trembled with rage. "Lydia spent 20 years out there suffering while that imposter lived like a princess in her place. Just thinking about it breaks my heart!" "Mom ... " Lydia's eyes welled up with tears. She clung to Sienna's arm. "I know you did it all for me. But it's only because I came back that Helen had to ... " She sniffled, her nose pink. "Mom, I should go after her. See her off." Sienna softened instantly. "You really are too kind, darling." By the time Lydia caught up, Helen was at the door, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her other hand rummaging inside for something."Helen!" Lydia hurried over, a mask of contrition plastered on her face. "I'm so sorry, Helen. I just wanted to come home, to be with Mom and Dad. I never meant to take anything from you. "I really did try to convince them to let you stay, but ... they were just so worried I'd feel displaced, so you got the short end of the stick ... "And Sean ... " Her eyes curved into happy crescents. From an angle shielded from the watching staff, her eyes met Helen's with naked challenge. "Sean said he wants all of Veridia to know I'm his fiancée. We're having a huge engagement party in three months. "I heard you were pursuing him for the longest time before I came back. You ... you don't hate me for it, do you, Helen?" Helen froze for a second, then slowly looked up. Those calm, deep eyes held no ripple of emotion—nothing but pure, unadulterated indifference, laced with a hint of lofty condescension, as if looking down at an ant from the clouds. "Congratulations," she said at last, lips curving faintly. Her tone was cool, almost pitying. "You can have him. You're just picking up trash that I'd thrown away."