The True Heiress Asks for Nothing

In my previous life, I resented Emily, the fake daughter, for occupying the place that rightfully belonged to me.

I fought for and snatched at Emily's belongings, earning myself a reputation for being consumed by jealousy.

My biological father, Mr. Davies, claimed I had been corrupted, brandishing a belt to discipline me.

My biological mother, Mrs. Davies, tearfully pushed me away: "If I had known you would become like this, I would rather not have given birth to you."

My brother, Henry, shielded Emily behind him: "My sister should be as pure and kind as Emily."

"You are so malicious; you don't deserve to be my sister."

But they all forgot that I, too, should have grown up carefree by their side.

Fine, if you prefer someone pure and kind.

Then in this life, I will be that pure and kind girl.

And I will make you willingly offer everything I desire.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was brought home to the Davies family.

My biological parents were filled with guilt. They decorated my room like a princesss, but its location was poor, facing north, deprived of sunlight.

The two best rooms on the second floor were given to my brother, Henry, and to Emily, the fake daughter.

In my previous life, because of the room issue, on the very first day I returned, I had a huge fight with my birth parents.

I demanded why they hadnt reserved the best room for me. I was determined to claim Emilys room, scattering her belongings everywhere.

Eventually, Emily, with red-rimmed eyes, conceded.

This room always belonged to Anya. Now that shes back, its only right that I give it to her.

Under the guilty gazes of the whole family, she moved all her things into the guest room.

I never truly belonged in this family anyway, so let me stay here. As long as Anya feels better, I dont care what happens to me.

I got the best room as I wished.

But the very next day, my parents quietly transferred ownership of a luxurious apartment to Emily.

Emily, Anya was being unreasonable. Consider this apartment an apology from Mom and Dad on Anyas behalf. If youre ever unhappy, you can move in whenever you like.

Mmm, thank you, Mom and Dad.

Emily hugged my mother, her suppressed tears making my parents hearts ache.

Then, thinking of my unreasonable self, they sighed helplessly.

This time, I still didnt step into the room prepared for me.

I kept my lips tightly pressed together, standing by the doorway, my gaze lowered. Mom, can I switch rooms?

Whats wrong? Is the room not good enough? My birth mother thought I was dissatisfied with the room and quickly took my hand, asking.

I shook my head. The room is wonderful. I never dreamed of living in such a beautiful room.

But everything is too perfect. So perfect that Im afraid its all a dream, and it might just disappear suddenly. I let my eyes well up with tears at just the right moment.

My birth mothers grip tightened, pulling my hand more firmly. Silly child, of course not. This is real. Mom and Dad brought you home, and from now on, this is your home. You can do whatever you want in your own home.

Is that so? Yet, in my previous life, why did I have to resort to a hysterical argument just to get a room that was already mine?

Why, when I asked for what was rightfully mine, did you make me feel like I was being unreasonable?

Mom, are you really serious? My birth mother nodded.

Then, can I change rooms? I insisted strongly, and my birth mother reluctantly gave in.

Alright, there are plenty of empty rooms. Pick whichever one you like, live wherever you want.

As my birth mother said this, I distinctly felt Emily, standing behind her, tremble slightly.

My gaze passed over them, settling on Emilys room. Emilys pupils contracted sharply, and she instinctively clenched her fists.

I deliberately kept my gaze fixed, standing still as if in deep thought. Then, just before Emily seemed to make some decision, I suddenly spoke.

Mom, I want to stay in that one.

My fingertip swept past Emilys room, then past Henrys room, finally landing on the staff quarters downstairs.

My birth mother followed my gaze. Seeing which room I indicated, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face.

She quickly exchanged a glance with my birth father, then forced a smile.

Anya, dear, that room is for the household staff. Its small and cramped. How could you stay there?

Sweetheart, be a good girl, lets pick another one.

I shook my head, a look of longing on my face. I think its wonderful. It has a comfortable bed and its own bathroom.

I used to think that if I could ever live in such a nice room in this lifetime, I would die content. I never thought that day would actually come.

Mom, I pleaded, looking at my birth mother, Can I have this wish?

This My parents eyes darted between each other, their faces cycling through shades of red and white, like a colorful painting.

Seeing that my parents didnt know how to respond, Emily stepped forward to mediate. How can this be? Why dont you take my

Thank you, Mom and Dad. Before Emily could finish, I cut her off directly, effectively silencing anything else she was about to say.

This time, I wouldnt give her the chance to display her gentle kindness.

I turned and skipped downstairs, feigning an air of great happiness.

Mom and Dad, you like kind and sensible daughters, dont you?

You feel guilty, dont you?

Well, now that your own biological daughter is suffering, how much guilt will you feel?

Early the next morning, the Davies family was woken by the sound of pots and pans clattering and breaking in the kitchen.

When they came downstairs, I was on the floor, picking up shards.

Hiss~ The sharp edge of a broken bowl cut my rough fingertips. Blood immediately welled from the wound.

Did it hurt? Not really. Compared to the beatings from my adoptive father, Mr. Evans, this was nothing.

But my eyes still welled up with tears. I cautiously looked up, meeting my parents bewildered gazes.

Im sorry, Mom and Dad, I woke you.

I just wanted to make breakfast for you, but the cabinet was too high for me to reach.

So, I accidentally I lowered my head, not daring to look at them, trembling as I softly sobbed.

Like a startled little rabbit.

In my previous life, I had seen Emily act this way countless times. So, in this life, I had her act down pat.

Sure enough, my birth mother ignored the shards on the floor and stepped right in, carefully pulling me out of the kitchen.

Child, we have a chef. You dont need to cook.

My birth mother asked the housekeeper to bring the first aid kit and meticulously tended to my wound.

I sniffled. Im sorry, Mom, its just become a habit.

My adoptive father said if I didnt work, he wouldnt feed me.

Mom, the taste of hunger isnt pleasant. I dont want to go hungry again.

My birth mothers hand suddenly froze.

They had investigated everything I had been through, knowing every detail.

They felt guilty about me.

In my previous life, it was the same. But they thought that by simply making amends, they could erase their guilt.

And my daily jealousy provided them with a convenient excuse to dismiss that guilt.

My birth mother looked away, raising a hand to wipe her face. She was crying. But this wasnt enough.

Mom, its all my fault. Please dont be sad.

I reached out and wrapped my arms around my birth mothers neck.

My oversized sleeve fell away, revealing the scars on my arm.

Anya, what happened to your arm? My birth father, standing nearby, noticed the scars at once.

My birth mother snapped out of it. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, she grabbed my wrist.

She lifted my sleeve. A series of horrifying scars were exposed.

My birth mothers tears could no longer be held back. She hugged me, crying heartbrokenly, My child, my poor child.

Even my birth father, usually so calm, wise, and unreadable, couldnt help but get misty-eyed.

In my previous life, when faced with my scars, they had merely looked away, advising me, The past is the past. You need to learn to move forward.

You have enough to eat and wear now. Dont keep bringing up the past.

Back then, I was like a madwoman. I accused them of being unfit parents, of showing favoritism.

It turns out, sometimes, the crazier you act, the less pity you receive. The calmer you are, the more people empathize.

My past self thought that acting out would awaken their guilt. How foolish.

Under my deliberate display of vulnerability, my parents pity for me grew day by day. In contrast, they paid less attention to Emily.

Emily had grown up being pampered by the family. Naturally, she was somewhat displeased by this shift in affection.

But I had taken her path, leaving her no opportunity to showcase her understanding and kindness.

She sat on the opposite sofa, watching usa seemingly happy family of threelike a stranger.

My peripheral vision secretly focused on her.

Her pale fingertips repeatedly kneaded the throw pillow in her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

Was she hurting? In my previous life, I felt the same way.

My unreasonableness made my parents gradually lose faith in me.

Emily, with her sweet words and kind heart, made my parents beam with joy.

The three of them sat across from me, just as they are now, flaunting their happiness.

To them, it seemed I was the outsider.

If I were truly unrelated to them, it might not have mattered.

But that warm family affection, that should have been mine.

Watching everything that was rightfully mine being taken by another, my heart ached no less than Emilys did now.

My parents, under my subtle guidance, now thought of me first for everything.

Even the luxurious apartment they had given Emily in the previous life was now mine.

Anya, we know youre still getting used to things after coming back, so Mom and Dad want to give you your own independent space. If you ever feel uncomfortable in this house, you can move in there anytime.

I looked at the name on the property deed, a cynical sneer forming in my heart.

Indeed, money flows to those who dont need it, and love flows to those who arent deprived of it.

In my previous life, I lacked both, yet they gave them to Emily, who lacked neither.

In this life, even after trying their best to make amends, they still felt it wasnt enough and wanted to give more.

But who would complain about having too much wealth? I feigned a slight refusal, then reluctantly accepted.

I was genuinely worried that one day, I might suddenly be cast out, just like in my previous life.

Having more security always seemed like a good idea.