Shattered Fairytales: The Heiress Who Gave Up

I am a patient in a vegetative state. Before I jumped off a building, I carried a specific title: the fake heiress.

Once, the world revolved around me. But when the true heiress returned, I became the cuckoo that stole the dove's nest.

My dad guarded his assets against me, my mom asked me to move out, my older brother called me a thief, and my fianc broke off our engagement entirely.

My sins were grave, my crimes unforgivable. I had nothing left to compensate them with, except my one and only life.

But I couldn't even jump off a building right. Instead of dying, I turned myself into a vegetable.

Lying in this bed, trapped in a living death, my still-conscious mind heard my former family weeping: "Harper, please wake up. We misunderstood you..."

But what they didn't know was that I would never wake up.

How could someone who had abandoned every single ounce of their will to live ever wake up?

I lay in the hospital bed, completely paralyzed. I couldn't do anything but breathe.

My attempt to jump off the building had failed, leaving me in a vegetative state. But my hearing remained intact. I could hear every sound around me.

I heard the quiet, hollow emptiness of my hospital room. Only the footsteps of doctors and nurses echoed back and forth.

Oh, one girl did come to visit me. Her name was Chloe Kensington.

I used to be Chloe Kensington, too. Once upon a time.

Now, that name belonged to her, and I had changed mine to Harper Miller.

After all, she was the real heiress, and I was the fake one. She had been taken by my biological parents and suffered through a life of hardship, while I stayed in the Kensington estate, enjoying a life of luxury and endless privilege.

Yet now, lying in this hospital, she was the only one who came to see me.

She sat by my bed, using a cotton swab to moisten my dry lips. "I'm going abroad. I never intended for this drama to turn into a tragedy. Harper, get better soon. Go home. I don't blame you anymore..."

I genuinely couldn't move. If I could, I would have smiled a bitter smile.

Even if she didn't blame me, I could never go home.

The people in that house were no longer the family who loved me deeply. Aside from me, no one even remembered that we once loved each other.

The turning point happened one day when my brother ran into a girl who looked exactly like him. She even had the same signature red birthmark by her eye that ran in my father's bloodline.

Feeling an inexplicable connection, my brother brought her home. When my parents saw her, they were stunned. They looked at her, then looked at mewho bore little resemblance to anyone in the familyand fell into a deep silence.

A few days later, a DNA test declared my true identity: a fake heiress.

My biological parents last name was Miller. Years ago, my biological mother had given birth in the same hospital, on the exact same day as my adoptive mother. Before discharge, my adoptive dad had gotten drunk at a business dinner, and my adoptive mom was distracted talking to a cosmetic consultant about postpartum recovery. The Millers were busy with God knows what, and in the confusion, the babies were swapped.

As the Kensington empire grew, I was spoiled and pampered. Meanwhile, the true daughter of the Kensington family struggled to make ends meet in the Miller household.

I was raised as a delicate little princess. Chloe Kensington, on the other hand, fought her way up, eventually landing an internship at my dad's company while finishing her studies. That was where my brother found her.

The rest of the story was a clich. The princess returned to the palace. And the wicked maid who stole her nestwho still shamelessly craved their affectionwas humiliated until she was utterly broken and discarded.

The only deviation from the script was that the wicked maid was supposed to be executed. Instead, I survived, turning into a vegetable, dragging out a miserable existence where I couldn't even end my own life.

This was perhaps an even crueler punishment.

I heard Chloe say, "Harper, get well soon. Mom, Dad, and Carter are waiting for you at home."

She fell silent for a moment before adding, "By the way, Liam is going abroad with me. Did he come to see you? He probably told you, right?"

I felt my breathing stall. It was as if my nervous system was intentionally trying to shut down my respiratory functions.

Liam was my fianc. If nothing had happened, we would have been officially engaged next month.

The suffocation caused my heart rate to fluctuate wildly, and the monitor began to beep frantically.

Chloe quickly ran to get the doctor. The doctor rushed in, checked the monitors, and sighed. "Given her current condition, whenever her bodily functions start to recover even slightly, its as if the patient is using her own subjective consciousness to cut off her own life force. She immediately starts failing again."

The doctor spoke solemnly. "You are her sister, right? Why haven't your parents visited even once? Right now, I suspect the patient simply doesn't want to wake up. If this continues, she will..."

I heard Chloe freeze, suddenly panicking. "I'll go home right now and tell my parents and brother!"

She turned and ran. But I felt the urge to laugh.

They wouldn't come.

They hated me to death. I was a thief.

I thought I knew my family well. No, waitChloe's family.

But facts proved me wrong.

My momor rather, my adoptive momactually came.

She sat next to me. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her voice. "Doctor, haven't we paid enough for her treatments? Why is she still deteriorating?"

The doctor paused, explaining by the book: "Currently, the patient herself has lost the will to live. Some things cannot be solved by medicine. With many illnesses, once the patient gives up hope, their body quickly collapses. This psychological issue requires the cooperation of her family."

My mom sounded annoyed. I could hear it in her tone. "I know her better than anyone. She loves luxury, she loves going out and having fun. She is not the type to just give up on life."

The doctor was stunned again.

After a moment, he asked hesitantly, "Do you still wish to continue her treatments? If not, you actually have the option to pull the plug..."

My mom flared up. "Who said we don't want to?! She is my daugh"

She stopped herself mid-sentence. After a long pause, she muttered, "She called me Mom for twenty years, at least."

The doctor then suggested, "In that case, try thinking about the books she used to like, the shows she watched, the celebrities she followed. Read to her, talk to her. Maybe it will strengthen her will to live."

My mom thought about it and called my brother.

I heard my brother's cheerful voice echo through the receiver. "Mom, I'm helping Liam plan his proposal right now. What's up?"

A proposal.

If I could control my eyelids, I would have shed a tear. Holding it in was agonizing.

Liam was going to propose to Chloe.

My mom also froze for a second, then simply said, "Mm. Come home and bring the books Harper used to love to the hospital. I want to read to her."

My brother sounded deeply impatient. "That's what doctors and nurses are for. Why are you stressing over this? As long as we pay the hospital bills, who cares?"

My mom paused. She didn't say anything else; she just told him to hurry up and bring the books before hanging up.

I completely understood their behavior.

In their eyes, I had stolen the true heiress's life and ruined Chloe. I had ruined the Kensington family.

In her second month back home, my mom discovered Chloe had depression.

Chloe said she kept thinking about those years of grinding poverty. In those years, she was forced to do hard labor until her hands were covered in cracked, bleeding chilblains. Because of their poverty, the Millers grew increasingly violent, and she was relentlessly mocked at school.

My mom broke down. Looking at Chloe's scarred hands, she wept uncontrollably.

I stood to the side, completely at a loss.

I didn't know what to say. I just felt a primal fear. Just the day before, I was the beloved princess of the Kensington family. How did I suddenly become a sinful imposter?

Seeing me zone out, my mom looked at me with eyes colder than ice for the first time. "Shouldn't you say something?"

I stood there, frozen.

I had always been the little girl who rolled around in my mother's embrace. My mom used to say that even when I grew up, I would still be her baby. I even jokingly called myself a mama's girl.

But now, she was looking at me with absolute freezing hatred.

She hadn't even looked that cold when our maid was caught stealing.

My face instantly flushed red. A lifetime of being pampered had blinded me to the impending crisis. I even stomped my foot and whined, "Mom, don't look at me like that!"

My mom gripped Chloe's hand, gritting her teeth. "Then how should I look at you? Should I throw a parade to thank your biological parents?!"

Your parents...

I instantly fell silent.

A profound, suffocating terror bloomed in my chest.

The mother who had given me all her love, the person I was closest to in the worldshe was gone.

Even though, on the day they found Chloe, my mom had told me I was still her child and I just had a new sister... instinct told me things would not end up that way.

Something absolutely terrifying was about to happen.

My brother arrived quickly with the books he had dug out of my old bookshelf.

I was never a big reader, so there weren't many books there.

Growing up, my dad always told me that if studying was too hard, I shouldn't bother. He said I was the Kensington princess, and the Kensington family didn't need me to be a scholar. He told me to just eat, drink, and shopseeing me happy was what gave him the motivation to make money.

But when Chloe returned, my dad looked at her Ivy League resume and beamed with pride, giving himself a thumbs up. "As expected of Kensington blood. Good seed blooms beautifully no matter where you plant it."

After saying that, he glanced at me, a flash of realization crossing his eyes.

That look of realization made me want to crawl into a hole. So, I was the bad seed.

Chloe's study was packed with books, and she truly loved reading.

Meanwhile, my study still only had one set of fairy tales. I only loved reading fairy tales, even as I grew older.

That set of fairy tales was bought for me by my brother when we were little.

He had always been cold to me. It was the only gift he had ever given me.

But because I loved following him around as a kid, I treasured that gift more than anything.

He handed the book to my mom, coughed, and said somewhat awkwardly, "Why did she even keep such old, beat-up books?"

I treasured that set of books deeply. Even when I finally moved out of the Kensington estate, I had wanted to take them with me.

But my brother had watched me like a hawk, terrified I was trying to steal something valuable. In a fit of anger, I left them behind.

My mom opened the fairy tale book. Her cold fingers hesitantly brushed against the withered, bony back of my hand, trying to soften her voice. "Harper, I'm going to read to you. Wake up soon."

The first story in the book was Snow White.

My mom read a few sentences and stopped. "Did she really like this kind of stuff?"

I had no way of telling her that I did. I had been reading it the night before I moved out, and my tears had even stained the pages.

My brother, surprisingly, understood me. "She liked it. Look how worn the pages are."

My mom continued reading: "The little princess had skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood... She had a kind heart and loved playing with the animals in the forest..."

As she read, my mom suddenly paused.

As if remembering something.

After a while, she forced a strained smile at my brother. "Doesn't this sound exactly like Harper when she was little? Snow-white skin, dark hair, always loving little animals."

She suddenly remembered, "The stray cats near the house... no one's fed them in a long time. Once Harper moved out, no one took care of them, right?"

Someone did. Even after I moved out, I still came back to feed them, Mom.

Because they were the only ones who still wanted to be near me.

Even after I decided to die, I bought a massive amount of cat food and asked a volunteer I knew to keep feeding them.

My brother didn't say anything, seemingly lost in thought as well.

After a moment, he reminded my mom, "Don't mention stuff like this in front of Chloe. She's getting engaged to Liam soon. She needs to be in a good mood."

My mom quickly agreed and kept reading.

When she reached the part where Snow White gets a stepmother, she paused again.

I think that was because I had a habit of writing my thoughts in the margins.

I remembered what I wrote there when I was a kid: So scary. Thank God I have the best mom in the whole world who loves me so much.

My mom got stuck reading that line.

Thankfully, she only froze for a moment before pushing through, though her voice was noticeably unsteady.

When she got to the part where the stepmother gives Snow White the poisoned apple, she stopped again.

I remembered my margin note there, too: Why did she hate Snow White so much? She even called her Mom! After being called Mom for so many years, didn't her heart soften even a little bit? Snow White didn't know anything, she just treated her like a real mother!

I remembered that note so clearly because I didn't write it when I was a kid. I wrote it right before I left the house.

Every word was written through tears, leaving deep indentations on the paper.

My mom suddenly started coughing violently. It was a terrifying, chest-rattling cough that startled my brother.

He snatched the book from her hands. "Mom, you should go home. The smell in here is awful. Don't choke on it."

My mom kept coughing and ignored him.

He added, "Chloe is getting engaged. Go back and help her plan it. It's her first time getting engaged; she doesn't know what to do."

My mom finally stopped coughing. She agreed, turned to leave, and told my brother as she walked out, "You keep reading to Harper. Read a few more stories."

My brother sounded impatient. "I know."

Right then, the doctor walked in and looked surprised. "You're leaving so soon? It's only been ten minutes."

My mom brushed it off. "Something came up at home. Her brother will stay with her."

She paused, then asked hesitantly, "Doctor, is it really true that she is consciously choosing not to live?"

The doctor was firm. "Of course. Let's not forget how she ended up in a vegetative state in the first place."

My mom fell silent.

But I heard my brother scoff. "She's so greedy and terrified of dying. There's no way. She was probably just trying to scare me into giving her money and took it too far."

A month before I jumped, I did ask my brother for money.

My biological father, Mr. Miller, was hospitalized and they couldn't afford the medical bills.

They couldn't reach Chloe because she was on a business trip, so they cautiously came to me, asking if they could borrow some money.

But I had just moved out of the Kensington estate.

To prove that I wasn't greedy and wasn't trying to fight Chloe for the inheritance, I had returned every single cent I had to my brother when I left.

My brother had drawled lazily, "I'll hold onto it for you. Someone as lazy and spoiled as you will come crawling back for it eventually."

What did I say back then?

I said I had hands and feet. Even if I wasn't as smart as Chloe, finding a job to feed just myself wouldn't be a problem.

My brother had watched me leave with a cold sneer.

I found a job as a cashier. It was enough to support myself, but I had zero savings to pay the massive medical bill the Millers needed.

Left with no other choice, I called my brother, hoping to borrow a little bit from the money I had given back to himjust enough to cover the hospital fees.

But the moment he heard I was asking for money, he didn't even let me finish. He burst into mocking laughter. "What happened to your backbone? Done pretending?"

Then he said he was in a meeting and too busy to deal with me.

He told me to wait until he had free time, and hung up the phone.

I lowered my head and smiled bitterly.

I really had some nerve. I wasn't a Kensington daughter anymore, yet I was still eyeing my old allowance.

I should have returned everything to the Kensingtons.

I took a deep breath and downloaded a payday loan app.

I had to pay for their hospital bills somehow.

I contacted the loan agent, and they told me to come in for an in-person interview on Monday.

I sighed, agreed, hung up the phone, and waited for Monday to take out the first loan of my life.

But on Sunday, Chloe came back.

Hearing that her adoptive father was hospitalized, Chloe went to the Kensingtons and begged them for help, eventually paying off the medical bills.

When Mrs. Miller called to tell me, I let out a massive sigh of relief.

After all, payday loans were predatory and dangerous. If I fell into a debt trap, it could take years to recover. Who wouldn't be terrified to borrow from them?

But when Mrs. Miller heard me sigh in relief, she fell into a long silence.

After a while, she said coldly, "A person who doesn't even show filial piety to the people who gave her life is worse than an animal."

I froze.

I wasn't being unfilial. I was just waiting until Monday for the loan interview.

But Mrs. Miller didn't wait for my explanation. She hung up.

I called back, but she didn't answer.

From that day on, it felt like my spirit had been completely drained. Just getting out of bed in the morning took a monumental amount of effort. Opening the curtains and washing my face felt like impossible, monumental tasks. I had to lie in bed for hours just to mentally prepare myself to stand up.

I loved keeping the curtains drawn, lying in the dark doing absolutely nothing. Just lying there, crying pointlessly until I fell asleep.

At the time, I thought I was just sad and would get over it soon.

I didn't know it was depression.

By the time I found out, it was already severe.

Even now, trapped as a vegetable, the severe depression still controlled me, draining me of all my will to live.

Even today, when my brother actually took the time to read to mesomething I wouldn't have dared dream of when I was a kidit didn't make things any better.

My brother held the worn fairy tale book, flipped to The Ugly Duckling, and read in a slow, detached voice: "The ugly duckling finally realized that he was a swan, unlike the ducks on the farm."

His voice was cold but pleasant. But when he read that line, the irony was deafening.

If I could open my eyes right now, I would definitely see the mocking sneer on his handsome face.

He murmured softly, "A swan is a swan. Even if it's placed among ducks, it will eventually return to the swan lake."

He came alone today. I heard him on the phone earlier; it seemed my mom forced him to come. He was highly displeased and spoke with obvious irritation.

He kept reading, hitting the exact spot where I had written another margin note: But who put the swan egg in the duck pile? That's so mean!

My brother fell into a long silence.

After a while, he suddenly reached out and touched my face.

The movement was so abrupt that if I wasn't covered in tubes, I would have jumped out of my skin.

My brother touching my face? The sun must have risen in the west.

Looking back carefully, my brother wasn't always completely cold to me.

I always felt like he hated making eye contact with me. If our eyes met, he would look away.

This started when we were very young.

When I was a kid, I thought my brother hated me so much he couldn't even stand the sight of me.

I clung to him, followed him everywhere, and tried to please him, but nothing worked.

It wasn't until he was an adult and I was fifteen. My parents came home late, and there was a massive thunderstorm. I was terrified and crying uncontrollably. My brother sighed, came into my room to comfort me, patted my back until I fell asleep, and in my half-asleep haze, just like today... he touched my face.

But after that night, he seemed to hate me even more.

Just like today. After finishing The Ugly Duckling, he abruptly stood up, kicked his chair back, and hurried out of the room.

If I wasn't a vegetable, I would have thought he was fleeing in a panic.

When he reached the door, his footsteps paused. I heard him take a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately he stayed silent.

He closed the door.

Sometimes I really couldn't understand why my brother hated me so much.

When I was little, I followed his every footstep. When I grew up, I was gentle and obedient to him, but I could never warm his heart.

He was so gentle with everyone else, but to me, he was as cold as ice.

When Chloe returned, I didn't feel threatened at first. I just thought I had gained an older sister.

I saw how much my brother adored her. He bought her gifts constantlyclothes, bags, shoes, jewelry, everything. Meanwhile, growing up, all I ever got from him was a single fairy tale book.

I thought he just admired her driven, career-oriented personality.

I wanted my brother to like me too.

So I told my dad I wanted to intern at the Kensington company, starting from the bottom in sales.

I wanted to work my way up and become as brilliant as Chloe.

Not for any other reasonjust so my brother would look at me a little longer.

I worked so hard. I arrived early, stayed late, worked overtime every day, and learned with relentless enthusiasm.

The employees and managers knew I was the Kensington daughter. Seeing how hardworking, humble, and sweet I was, they often invited me out to their gatherings.

I thought doing this would make my brother happy.

But I never expected that when he saw me having dinner with my coworkers after a shift, he would glare at me with a dark expression and drive away.

When I got home, he was talking to my dad.

When my dad saw me, his expression changed, flashing with a sudden, sharp vigilance.

My dad was a brilliant businessmanalert, sharp, and naturally distrustful of others.

He often looked at people that way.

But he had never, ever looked at me like that.

That day, he scrutinized me with that look for a long time.

He said, "Your brother said you're doing really well at the company? Better than Chloe?"

I was completely confused but nodded. "Um, I guess it's going okay. Chloe is executive material, so naturally she doesn't need to blend in with the regular staff."

I was telling the truth. Chloe was brilliant. She was destined to manage the company alongside my brother, so of course she wouldn't be joking around and eating street food with the regular employees like I did.

My dad nodded, said nothing else, and told me to go upstairs and rest.

As I walked up the stairs, I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

But I had had a few drinks, so I didn't realize what my dad was actually thinking.

It wasn't until the next morning. I arrived at the office early and overheard my manager and an assistant whispering in the bathroom stalls: "Don't let Harper touch any of the important documents."

"Why?"

"Orders from above. Don't ask questions. Now that the true heiress is back, they obviously have to guard against the imposter trying to steal the inheritance."

Sitting in the stall, my hands suddenly turned freezing cold.

Cold all the way to my fingertips.

I waited until the manager left before opening the stall door and stepping out.

My face was covered in tears.

I wrote my resignation letter that very day and left the Kensington company.

When my brother found out, he sneered and called me a useless piece of trash that couldn't be molded into anything.

I admitted he was right.

In this world, besides geniuses like him and Chloe, there are ordinary people, and even idiots like me.

But even idiots have feelings. Even idiots get heartbroken.

I packed up my desk and walked out of the building, wandering aimlessly down the street.

When I was younger, my dad used to take me everywhere, calling me the apple of his eye.

He told me girls didn't need to study too hard, that living a simple, happy life was enough. He said he would protect me before I got married, and my husband would protect me after.

Whenever I stayed up even thirty minutes late studying for exams, he would get so upset, forbidding me from reading and telling me my only job was to be happy.

I was terrified and lost. Had the father who loved me so much vanished forever?

Had all his love transferred to Chloe, leaving absolutely nothing for me?

I was so naive back then. I didn't believe it. I didn't believe that over twenty years of love could vanish overnight.

I called my dad, still whining playfully like I always did: "Dad, you still love me, right?"

My dad hesitated for a moment before telling me in a flat, emotionless voice: "Harper, if you need money, I can give you money. When I'm gone, your brother will provide for you too. But don't covet things that aren't yours. What isn't yours will never be yours."

I froze.

I didn't understand what he was saying.

No, it wasn't that I didn't understand. I was just terrified to understand.

The harsh autumn wind pierced through my bones, chilling me to the core.

I quietly agreed and hung up the phone.

I just wanted a little bit of love. I didn't want anything else.

But who would believe me?