The Parasite Heiress
On the first day of freshman year, she made sure to step out of the Maybach first. Then, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me.
“Get a grip, Lucy,” she’d said, her voice dripping with pity. “You’re just the charity case my family sponsors.”
“You take the money your mother earns as our housekeeper and blow it on pretending to be some heiress. Do you ever stop to think how hard she works for that?”
In my past life, that was how she did it. With those perfectly crafted, self-righteous lies, she convinced everyone that she was the daughter of the house. She didn't just steal my identity at school; she orchestrated a campaign of cyberbullying that tore my life apart.
But this is not my past life. I’ve been born again into this moment.
I looked at the smug, arrogant face of Isla Corbin, and without a word, I raised my hand and slapped her. Twice. The sharp crack echoed in the humid air. Before she could recover, I grabbed the collar of the Celine runway jacket she’d stolen from my closet, ripped it from her body, and threw it in the trash.
I leaned in, my voice a low hiss. “You’re a parasite living in my house. Don’t you ever forget who provides the life you’re so desperate to claim as your own.”
1
The heat was suffocating, a thick hundred-degree blanket smothering the Westwood University campus. The moment our driver, Art, brought the car to a stop, Isla practically threw the door open. She positioned herself in the thickest part of the student crowd, a performer finding her light.
Then came the lines I already knew by heart.
“Get a grip, Lucy! You’re just the charity case my family sponsors.” Her voice was a masterclass in performative concern. “You take the money your mother earns as our housekeeper and blow it on pretending to be some heiress. Do you ever stop to think how hard she works for that?”
Heads turned. Whispers started, little barbs of judgment flying my way. I saw the scene play out exactly as it had before, a perfect, horrifying replica, and I knew with chilling certainty that I was back. Back on the first day of my freshman year.
In my first life, this was the day Isla branded me. I became the ungrateful leech, the white-trash girl sucking her parents dry to live out some pathetic fantasy. And she, in turn, slipped seamlessly into my life, becoming the beloved, generous heiress. She thrived.
When I had confronted her then, she had just laughed.
“It’s about presentation, Lucy. I just have a certain… quality. I look the part more than you do. It’s no wonder they believe me.”
I’d felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re twisting everything. You started a witch hunt online. My private information is plastered all over the campus forums. You need to tell them the truth. You need to fix this.”
Isla had rolled her eyes, a perfect picture of boredom. “No. Why would I? I’m not the one getting hate mail. It’s not my problem.”
She’d fed the fire daily, spinning tales to her new friends. “I just don’t know what to do about Lucy,” she’d sigh dramatically over lattes. “It’s so sad. Her family has nothing, and she’s forcing them into debt just to keep up this facade. It’s pathological.”
I finally snapped. I found her in the student center, ready to scream the truth in front of everyone. But Isla was always one step ahead. She gave a subtle nod to her clique. They surrounded me, clamping a hand over my mouth, and dragged me into the nearest women’s restroom. They locked me in a stall as bucket after bucket of ice-cold water crashed down on my head.
The memory of Isla’s vicious, triumphant face then merged with the smug expression she wore now.
“My family has more money than you can dream of, Lucy,” she was saying, her voice a condescending purr. “The scholarship I give you? It’s less than what I’d spend on a handbag.”
“But I’m not a fool. I won’t just throw money away. If you don’t start focusing on your studies and showing a little gratitude, I might just have to reconsider my investment in you.”
2
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Have you bothered to check the balance on your bank account before spouting that nonsense?”
I took a step closer, enjoying the flicker of confusion in her eyes. “Your memory must be short. Wasn’t it just last week you were in tears, telling me your family couldn’t afford tuition, that you’d have to drop out? You begged me, literally begged me to ask my mother to help you. Did you forget that part already?”
Isla scoffed, crossing her arms. “That’s hilarious. This jacket alone is worth more than your entire wardrobe. You really expect anyone to believe I need your charity? Look at you. You look like you bought that top from a clearance rack at Walmart.”
I glanced down at my Loewe tank top. It was simple, understated. And five hundred dollars.
I closed the distance between us in three long strides.
Her eyes widened in shock as my palm connected with her cheek. And then again with the other.
I didn't stop there. I grabbed the stolen Celine jacket, my fingers digging into the fine fabric, and peeled it off her. I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can.
“A parasite living in my house for a few weeks and you already think you have the right to steal my clothes? You’ve got a hell of a nerve.”
Isla’s eyes darted to the trash can, a flash of genuine pain on her face. Then her gaze snapped back to mine, filled with venom. “Are you insane? Who said you could throw that away?”
All she had on underneath was a tiny black bralette, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.
Our driver, Art, saw the commotion in the rearview mirror. He quickly got out, grabbing a new jacket from the back seat. “Lucy, what are you doing? Why would you get physical with Miss Isla?”
I froze, turning slowly to face him. “What did you just say, Art?”
A driver who called me by my first name, but referred to the charity case as Miss Isla?
Art saw the red handprints blooming on Isla’s face and his tone shifted, becoming scolding. “Lucy, that was too much. You can’t just hit Miss Isla in front of all these people.”
The warmth of the day turned to ice in my veins. “Art, I am the only daughter of this family. There is no Miss Isla.”
I gestured to the jacket in his hand. “That Balenciaga is worth ten thousand dollars. You’ve worked for my family for a long time, so I’ll let this slide with a warning and dock one month of your pay. But if I ever see you giving my property to someone else again, I’ll find a new driver.”
The color drained from Art’s face. He clearly hadn't expected me to be so decisive, so brutal.
“…Yes. Yes, ma’am.”
3
Dormitory B, fifth floor. Room 501.
I finally wrestled my two largest suitcases up the five flights of stairs, my lungs burning, only to find our housekeeper, Maria, carefully making Isla’s bed.
The dorms had a strict no-men-allowed policy, and I had a mountain of luggage, which is why I’d specifically asked Maria to come help me. But when I’d gone back downstairs to find her, she had vanished.
I leaned against the doorframe, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Maria. My parents pay you a salary. Does Isla pay you now, too?”
She jumped at the sound of my voice, turning to face me. “Oh, Lucy,” she said, flustered. “Isla just… she doesn’t know how to make a bed with hospital corners. I thought I’d help her get settled quickly, and then I was coming right back down for you.”
Isla, meanwhile, was perched on her desk chair, leisurely sipping an iced Americano. She smirked at my sweat-drenched appearance. “Wow, it’s a hundred degrees out there, Lucy. You’re going to look like a drowned rat by the time you haul all ten of those suitcases up here. Have fun with that.”
Maria shot Isla a nervous glance before turning back to me, her voice placating. “I’m almost done here, Lucy. Why don’t you go grab another suitcase, and I’ll be right down to help you.”
“Maria,” I said, my voice sharp with annoyance. “If this job is too much for you, you can just say so.”
Her hands froze over the duvet. “Why would you say something so serious?” she asked, her face a mask of hurt.
My parents were always buried in work, rarely home. Art and Maria, a married couple, had been hired to look after me. They’d worked for us for thirty years, always diligent, always professional. They knew their place.
Until my mother decided to sponsor Isla.
“Honey,” Mom had said over the phone, “Dad and I are swamped. Would you like to have that girl we’re sponsoring come live with us? It might be nice to have some company.”
“Sure,” I’d said, spitting out a watermelon seed. “Why not?”
From the day Isla moved in, the lines started to blur. Whatever Isla craved, Maria would procure. Lobster, king crab, wagyu beef, imported cherries… anything expensive, Isla would request it.
“You poor thing, you’ve had such a hard life,” Maria would coo. “Whatever you want to eat, Miss Isla, I’ll make it for you.”
Meanwhile, I had asked for a simple glass of orange juice two weeks ago and was still waiting.
4
Reluctantly, Maria put down the bedsheet she was holding.
When we got downstairs and she saw the sheer number of suitcases still lining the curb, her expression tightened. “Oh, Lucy, my old back injury is acting up again. The doctor said I really shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy…”
I almost laughed. “Your back was fine when you were carrying Isla’s things, but it magically gives out when it’s time to carry mine? If you’re not feeling well, Maria, I can just tell my mother. She can give you a long vacation. A few years, maybe. To rest up.”
Maria’s face went pale. “No, no, a vacation isn’t necessary! I just have to be careful.”
She looked around, then pointed at Art. “Look, why don’t I take one of the small ones, and Art can help you with the rest?”
Art shot her a look, trying to shut her up.
I watched, stone-faced, as Maria circled the luggage, finally picking up the smallest, lightest vanity case.
My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Maria. If my luggage is not in my room today, you can go directly to my father’s accountant, collect your final paycheck, and leave.”
Her expression soured. She muttered something under her breath, a complaint, but Art cut her off.
“Be quiet!” he hissed. “Miss Hayes pays us to work. You don’t make the daughter of the house carry her own bags. Now get all of it upstairs. Now.”
Realization finally dawned on Maria. Terrified of losing her job, she grabbed a suitcase in each hand and started the long trek up the stairs. It took her eight trips. It took three hours.
As she was leaving, she tried to smooth things over, her smile forced and placating. “You get some rest now, Lucy. Call me if you get hungry. I’ll bring you whatever you want.”
5
I came back from the dining hall with a takeout container of fiery ramen to find my roommates—the same ones who had tormented me in my past life—had all arrived.
They shot me a venomous look.
“I can’t believe our luck,” one of them, Brianna, said loudly. “Stuck in a room with a bloodsucking leech who wastes her parents’ life savings.”
“I’m locking up all my valuables,” said the other, Chloe. “Who knows what might go ‘missing’ around here.”
Isla, hearing her cue, looked at me with faux pity. “It’s not just that she’s a leech. She likes to pretend she’s me. She tells people she’s the one sponsoring me. I honestly think she might be, you know…” Isla tapped her temple meaningfully. “Sick.”
Brianna made a gagging sound. “Some people don’t deserve charity. Instead of being grateful, instead of working her butt off to repay you, she tries to steal your identity? Honestly, Isla, you should just cut her off. Let her get kicked out of school.”
Brianna. In my last life, more than half of the hundreds of hate posts about me were traced back to her account.
I walked over to her, popped the lid off my still-steaming ramen, and calmly dumped it over her head. “Your mouth is a sewer,” I said sweetly. “Maybe this will rinse it out.”
The thick, spicy broth clung to her hair, dripping down her face.
After a moment of stunned silence, Brianna let out a piercing shriek, a stream of curses erupting from her mouth. “Are you crazy? You tried to burn me! This is assault! I’m telling the RA!”
Isla jumped to her feet, pointing a finger at me. “You’re a monster, Lucy! It’s the first day and you’ve already disfigured your roommate! You get on your knees and apologize to her right now!”
I just smiled. “Were you born without a brain, or did they cut it out with the umbilical cord?”
Brianna spent the next hour in the shower, but still complained about the smell. Muttering threats, she stormed out to get a professional hair treatment. Isla announced she was taking the other two out for dinner to make up for the trauma.
As they left, a thought struck me. I pulled out my phone. Isla was taking them out to dinner… with my money?
I called my mother immediately.
“Mom,” I said, no preamble. “I don’t want to sponsor Isla anymore. Can you please tell accounting to stop the payments?”
My mother didn’t even hesitate. “Of course, honey. Her monthly allowance hasn’t gone out for this month yet. I’ll have them cancel it right now.”
Isla’s family was dirt poor. On top of her tuition, my mother had arranged for a two-thousand-dollar monthly stipend for her expenses.
Without that, let’s see how long she could keep up the act.
The three of them didn’t get back until after midnight, slamming the door and chattering loudly about some guys they had met at a bar.
6
A message popped up in the freshman class group chat. It was the class president, suggesting a welcome party.
Everyone was enthusiastic. [Sounds great! Where should we have it?]
Brianna immediately typed: [Isla’s family has a huge villa! We should go there!]
She looked up from her phone. “Isla? Is that cool?”
“Of course,” Isla said without a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll just call the housekeeper and have her get things ready. You guys can even stay over for a couple of days if you want.”
She typed back in the group: [Everyone’s welcome at my place! Let’s have a party!]
Brianna and Chloe exchanged an ecstatic look. “This is going to be amazing!”
Lying in my bed, I watched the notifications explode. I lowered my phone. “Did you happen to ask for my permission before inviting the entire class to my house?”
Isla crossed her arms, sneering. “I don’t need your permission to invite friends to my own home. What does it have to do with you?”
Brianna chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, someone sounds jealous! Don’t worry, Lucy. It’s a class party. I’m sure you can come, too. It’ll be a good experience for a country bumpkin like you to see how the other half lives.”
My jaw tightened. “That is my house. You have no right to make that decision, Isla.”
Brianna burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, you’re actually delusional. Your main character syndrome is getting seriously out of hand.”
Chloe giggled. “Yeah, yeah, the villa is yours. The whole world is yours, okay? Whatever you say.”
My expression turned to ice.
“Fine,” I said, my voice low and even. “I can’t wait to see how you pull this off.”
7
I rolled over and sent a text to Maria.
[Maria, I’ve decided to stop sponsoring Isla. She is no longer welcome in our home. Do not let her or any of her friends inside.]
After the incident with the luggage, Maria was clearly on edge. She replied almost instantly.
[Yes, Miss Lucy.]
I yawned, turned off my phone, and went to sleep.
For the next few days, there was no more talk of a party. The class group chat went quiet.
8
One night, I was walking back from the library.
It was almost midnight, but the dorm was eerily silent. My room was empty. The rooms next door were dark. A strange feeling prickled at the back of my neck.
I had a very bad feeling.
I called an Uber and went straight to my family’s villa.
From the street, I could see the house was ablaze with lights. The bass of some deafening pop song vibrated through the manicured hedges.
I let myself in. The living room was a disaster zone. Beer bottles and snack wrappers littered every surface. Potato chip crumbs were ground into the Persian rug.
Maria emerged from the kitchen with a platter of cut fruit, a cheerful smile on her face. When she saw me standing in the foyer, her eyes went wide with shock.
“Lucy! You… what are you doing home?”
I laughed, a humorless sound. “What? Do I need to make an appointment to visit my own house now?”
Someone killed the music. The entire party went silent, and every single person turned to stare at me.
Brianna’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with disdain. “You have no shame, do you? Isla didn’t even invite you, and you stalked her all the way here.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Stalked her?”
“Yeah,” she shot back. “How else would you know where Isla lives?”
My eyes found Isla across the room. My voice was cold as steel. “I took pity on you, so I had my mother sponsor you. It’s clear now that you didn’t deserve a dime. Get out of my house. Now.”
A flicker of pure hatred crossed Isla’s face before she masked it. She was still committed to the lie.
“This is my house! Have you been reading too many fantasy novels? Can’t you tell the difference between reality and your pathetic delusions anymore?”
She shook her head, a perfect imitation of concern. “I really think you should see a psychiatrist, Lucy. For your own good. It’s not healthy to let these things go untreated.”
9
“Yeah, seriously, get some help!”
“Isla is so good to you, sponsoring you and everything, and this is how you repay her? You ungrateful bitch, get out!”
The insults came from all corners of the room. But my attention was fixed on the wall above the fireplace. On the spot where our family portrait was supposed to be.
The photo of me with my parents was gone. In its place was a portrait of Isla with my parents.
For a few seconds, I couldn't breathe. Then, a white-hot rage unlike anything I had ever felt surged through me.
“Maria!” My voice cracked like a whip. “Who changed the photo in the living room?”
Maria scurried over to me, her face pleading. “Lucy, please. This is Miss Isla’s first time having friends over. Whatever it is, can we please talk about it tomorrow?”
I looked at her guilty, evasive eyes and felt nothing but contempt. “I gave you a direct order. I told you Isla was not to set foot in this house again. And you not only let her in, you let her throw a party? You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
I raised my voice so everyone could hear. “And now, you’re going to tell all of them. Whose house is this? Mine, or Isla Corbin’s?”
Brianna took a bite of a steak crostini and rolled her eyes. “Just tell her, Maria, so she can stop living in her fantasy world.”
Maria looked at Isla, who was standing tall and defiant in the center of the room. Then her gaze shifted back to me. After a moment of agonizing internal debate, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
“Lucy… Miss Isla was kind enough to sponsor your education. You can’t be so ungrateful. You should go.”
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